Chapter Thirty-Three #2
He kisses the scar on my temple. I wish I could say that his breath is terrible, that he stinks, that he’s ugly.
But it doesn’t, he doesn’t and he’s not.
“You’ll have to tell me how you arranged for that to happen, Butterfly.
The campus cameras show you were in class at the time of my old friend’s death.
If I’m honest, I don’t think I want to know.
I like a woman with a little mystery. It makes her that much more alluring; wouldn’t you agree? ”
I don’t answer, just watch him with narrowed eyes I hope resembles a glare.
He pauses, reaching into his sports coat to the inside pocket. “One beautiful thing I did get to keep from my contract with the royals was a merger with just one company.” He pulls out a vial and a syringe. “A pharmaceutical research company.”
He stretches his arm up, shaking it into the light, the liquid tinted with yellow, and plunges the shaft of the needle into the rubber part of the vial.
“ This is a synthetic paralyzer and anesthetic. Neurosurgeons use this while conducting craniotomies when they need the patient awake. Isn’t that fascinating? ”
I’m filled with foul dread, making bile rise to my throat once more as he injects into my arm. Only to pull out a second vial as my limbs grow heavier by the minute.
“And this is injectable psilocybin with a side of methamphetamine. I heard you suffer from hallucinations – from your mother no less… and unable to move from the anesthetic but unable to sleep from the methamphetamine… let’s just say you’re patient zero.
” He plunges the needle into my arm again with the second drug and I spit at him.
“I…” His eyes flare with excitement at the sound of my voice. “Will kill you.”
He grins, the fucking psychopath and kisses my forehead. “Of that, I have no doubt you will, Butterfly. Until then… let’s have some fun, shall we ? ” He flicks off the light, and it swings, glowing red, his features turn demonic as he makes it up the stairs and all my nightmares come to life.
________
The light flickers between red and white above me, gently swaying and the shadows in the corners of the already dark room I’m in, move with it.
“Stars shining bright above you…”
He steps out of the corner of the room, dark boots with mud on the sides, dark jeans, black zip-up pullover, the hood is up. As he steps carefully closer, spindly arms drag across the ground, fog like, and I see he has no face. Not even the whites of his eyes are visible.
I kick my legs but it’s futile. I can’t even turn my head away from the grotesque form encroaching on me.
I’m paralyzed. A prisoner in my own body.
The hood comes down and the mask comes off.
Autumn eyes I’ve lost myself in distort and melt, pouring out of his eyeballs like hot wax down his cheekbones.
Not real . I blink rapidly but Jonas’ features morph and now I’m looking at Maverick. My devil. And that’s what he morphs into – a demon come to torture me.
Bile once again rises in my throat, and I swallow it down, so I don’t choke on it.
Please !
My moth mask sits heavy like a boulder on my abdomen, sinking into me. I can feel it coming alive and burrowing into me.
Not real, not real.
It squirms.
“Tongueless… all tied up and nowhere to go.” He reaches out, his touch feather light on my skin but it feels wrong. “Worthless little thing aren’t you?”
“Amourette!” Damon’s voice is loud and rings in my ears from the far corner of the room, fading in and out with every flickering sway of that fucking light bulb.
He runs at me and I swear, I swear he crashes into me, the bed shakes or maybe it’s me.
Damon looms over me and my heart sails through the concrete ceiling.
“I suppose I always knew you were weak. Years of therapy wasted . As useless as a flightless bird.”
No ! I blink, tears escaping and running down the corners of my eyes and into my hair. This isn’t real.
I close my eyes, my breathing erratic. It’s freezing but I’m hot all over. If I close my eyes, I can’t see them.
“Look at me, baby.”
No.
“C’monnnnnn Raven.” He growls low and dark. “Look at me… look at me, baby… I said LOOK. AT. ME!”
My eyes snap open and Jonas climbs onto the bed I’m strapped to, straddling me. A weightless ghost. But that moth is still fluttering inside of me. “Look who came to visit.”
They grow out of the sides of his neck. Chase. Riordan. Blue eyes now grey like ash. They move around like serpents, and I whimper, doing my best to get away but I can’t. I let out a sob and shut my eyes tight.
Not real.
I keep my eyes closed. I piss myself. I ignore the taunts. I sing to myself to drown out their voices until it’s quiet.
Then I make the mistake of opening my eyes and it starts all over again.
My sweet Kronos is a hellhound. Lucifer is a giant skeletal cat with fleshy bat wings.
Maverick is a demon, Damon’s just watching me, eyes glowing like silver flames and Jonas has no eyes.
The twins float and circle above me. The light, the fucking light simply sways, casting more imaginary shadows that were once trapped in my mind.
I don’t know how long it takes. Hours. Days. I’m starving. I’m wet, itchy and smell of my urine, there’s no Lex this time to find me. Even if Shadow showed up, this one only watches from the corner, still as can be.
Dirty boots. Hands in his pockets. He's the only thing that doesn’t shift or change into something or someone else.
I drift, finally, shivering asleep, twitching. My hair itches. My skin burns, my brain feels like it’s on fire but I’m so very, very cold. I can’t feel my toes.
And then it’s warm again…
When my eyes shut for good to give me a moment’s peace… I dream of them.
The real them.
“We’re coming, baby…”
“I love you, Amourette…”
“We’ll burn them down for you, Siren. Nobody will survive.” Retreating whispers that fill me with hope as I drift drift drift…
And a melody begins to form. Soft, at first, in adagio, a cello. Low and forewarning. The tempo accelerates with the accompaniment of violins… a piano causes goosebumps to break on my skin and a clash of cymbals.
My nipples peak from the cold, rubbing against the material of the hospital gown. I shiver as I dream of bathing in Stephen’s warm blood wearing my mask and nothing but the mask that he thinks is a butterfly.
I can be good.
I’ll be so good.
“Raven baby…”
I don’t dare open my eyes.
“We’re coming, angel.”
Beautiful lies.
“Gorgeous little bird.”
Tears well into my eyes and seep out, warm against my face.
________
There’s a tap, tap, tapping against my cheek.
My eyes flutter open.
Blurry blue eyes. Blonde hair.
I don’t allow myself to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
“You made a mess of yourself. Come, let’s get you clean. And before you try to run, there are heavily armed guards standing at every exit and entrance. They’re told to shoot on sight if you try to run. Now, I’ve unstrapped you. Sit up.”
I get immediate vertigo sitting up and lean over, the last remaining bile landing on Stephen’s shoes. I look at my wrist.
Real.
I really puked on his Armani’s.
Good.
He helps me stand on weak wobbly legs, my mask falling to the ground, just an inch away from my puddle of vomit, with not even one trace of disgust on his face and leads me to a wall.
I lean into him, hating myself for being so dependent on him, his warmth.
He looks so fucking pleased with himself.
Utterly satisfied to have me dependent on him.
He removes my scrub gown, and I’m completely bare for him. The thought alone makes me recoil but Stephen holds me tighter, putting his hands against my flesh and squeezes roughly, the tips of his nails scratching. I try to push him off but I’m too weak.
I don’t allow myself to cry.
The water comes boiling on my skin and I welcome the burn, as I watch him lean, the water wetting his button-up.
He didn’t bother to undress. He doesn’t care that he’s soaked, he merely cares about getting me clean.
To be the shiny, pretty little dolly he remembers me as.
A wash rag of soap. Shampoo. Conditioner.
My bile washes off his Armani’s, sliding down like yellow slime around my feet and down the drain.
He dries me. Carefully. Then it’s a new hospital gown.
I can hear the vials in his breast pocket clink together with every move he makes, and my skin slickens with nervous sweat.
I shiver, the room colder with my hair wet.
He uncaps and then hands me a tiny bottle of water. I chug it down.
“Your men are circling my property.” He says once I’m sitting.
Someone changed the thin mattress while he was showering me.
Someone else was in here. I look around the room, unable to find Shadow.
“That was a surprise to me, Raven.” He pulls up the rolling chair and sits before me like he's my doctor.
Is he?
I look at my wrist.
No .
“You know Arlo… Arlo was my last remaining son. A half-breed. His mother’s Puerto Rican genes overpowered the Prescott ones and so, he had the perfect cover.
You know he watched your little boyfriend’s lectures and read over case files he closed to get an accurate sense of acting as a detective?
All those pictures, Raven… you really should close your blinds.
Sure had your professor nervous there, for a while.
But alas, your boyfriend was the smarter of the two and because of that, I can admit defeat and so here we are.
Your lovers are circling my property, and you’re in my prison, with my men standing guard and ready to shoot.
So, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do-“
He doesn't get another chance to finish his sentence. There’s a commotion upstairs, violent and loud and my heart stammers in my chest, hopeful but unwilling to believe it because if they’re here, that means they aren’t safe.
The sound of fireworks goes off as well as the music in my mind, a low, beautiful, mesmerizing hum. My breath hitches, my heart rioting, and I lunge.
Knocking Stephen off the rolling chair and onto the floor and straddle him.
The music begins, a low, beautiful hum, taking over me.
I hear nothing but the music as I punch Stephen with all the strength I have in me, he swings back, trying to catch my arms but I don’t let him.
I keep going until I hear a crash and thundering footsteps booming down the stairs and all can think about is the blood coating my fists and fingers.
Stephen gurgles beneath me but I’m not finished.
“Little bird-“
“Hold… him.” I rasp, my voice heavy with vitriol as his eyes widen.
So clear. So beautiful. So blue. I should be ecstatic that they’re here but nobody…
nobody tries to break me and gets away with it.
My vision is blurry and red when Jonas crouches before me, taking hold of Stephen’s arms, his scent delicious and soothing.
I let out a sob of happiness, wanting to do nothing more than crawl unto his arms and never let go but I reach into Stephen’s breast pocket, the pretentious asshole, and fish out the vials and syringe .
With shaky hands and numb fingers, I hold them up to the light to see the clear one and uncap the syringe.
“Butterfly, don’t do this.”
“Not your… butterfly,” I reply hoarsely, ready to plunge it into his chest but Damon stops me, reading the vial and his stare becomes narrowed and dangerous.
“Allow me, Amourette. Maverick, help me with his sleeve.”
A ripping sound. I don’t dare look up from Stephen’s busted face and he doesn’t dare look away from me. An ocean crashing against steep brown rock.
“A fucking queen.” He gurgles and right before his jaw goes slack, “This won’t kill me.”
I hand Damon the other vial and quirk a brow at the handsome motherfucker at my mercy. Mercy I don’t have to give.
“All of it will,” I say clearly, finally tearing my eyes away to look at my deranged doctor expertly shaking and then tipping the vial to fill the barrel, a mad scientist. A doctor. Mine. All mine.
It takes two full rounds until Stephen is limp, his eyes moving back and forth and I crawl to my mask, retrieving it from my puke pile and tug it on.
I stand over Stephen and squat on his stomach like a paralysis demon and watch as his eyes fill with absolute terror. His breathing quickens, his chest going up and down quickly and then quicker, slight, muffled screams fill the chamber we’re inside.
“He’s pissing himself,” Maverick warns but I don’t move.
Good.
I stand over his body, cerulean eyes darting everywhere but my face and I slap him so he can focus on me.
I can feel his stomach doing something and suddenly, vomit fills his mouth.
I stay. Watching as he chokes on his own sick until his chest stops moving.
The deafening music in my mind decrescendos to a stop.
When I rise over his corpse, I stumble backward, throwing my mask off. It clatters to the ground behind me and finally; after looking at my wrist, I leap into their arms and allow myself to scream in pure, uncensored agony.
And they let me.
They don’t ask me to stop.
They don’t shush me.
What I am, is wrapped in a soft blanket and carried up those seventeen stairs.