Chapter 16 Devil’s Words Dying #2
Sapphire tries to scream again, but the sound gurgles and is abruptly blocked by the old woman’s hand. I nearly peel the skin off my wrists by straining violently against these restraints.
Finally, Agatha tugs the strap off Sapphire’s head and steps away.
Sapphire convulses, flopping her head to the side to spew vomit to the floor.
It splashes to the ground as saliva and clear liquid, certainly because we haven’t been given food or water.
She attempts to say something, curse probably, but only whines and moans come out.
It seems she has cottonmouth, or her tongue is severely injured. Both are likely.
She got herself into this. She got herself into this. She got herself into this.
That heavy mop of sweaty, honey-copper hair hangs off the side of the mattress. She’s speechless. Awake but eyes lost somewhere deep in her own mind, glazed over and out of focus. I’ve never seen her this way before. It’s… disturbing.
The old woman turns and studies me like an insect on display.
I maintain a dead expression. Though a murderous impulse dances behind my eyes, and I let her see it. Unblinking. Unflinching. I could break her neck. All she would have to do is free me.
Agatha scoffs like this isn’t the first time someone looked at her with homicidal thoughts. And I remember how her demise turns out. I know it comes from the hands of Skylenna’s father. I can imagine she’ll see this glare again from him.
“Don’t look at me like that, young man.” She walks toward me, a little wobbly from the exertion she put into Sapphire’s cleansing. “I’m doing you a favor.”
I stare at her long enough to make her shift on her feet.
“Oh?”
“You see that mouth?” She points a gnarled finger.
My gaze slides to Sapphire’s swollen lips quickly, uncaringly, then I shoot it back to the old woman with boredom forced over my features. Every part of me hides how I had to hold my breath when I looked at her.
“I do.”
“By the time I am finished with her, that mouth won’t be of a whore. It will be of a wife.”
Oh god.
Sapphire’s dry gasps and wretches distract me for a moment, and I have to hold my breath again.
“Yeah. Not at all interested,” I respond to Agatha.
“Well, not now, no.” The old woman gives me a once-over. “I have work to do on you as well, boy. You don’t think God sees all? Even when you touch your penis to the sight of this girl?”
I stare blankly.
“It’ll take some time, but I’m going to build you in His image. To be a respectable husband. Train and maintain your wife. Discipline. Coitus for reproduction only,” she states.
A small crack fractures my cold exterior. I can’t help it. Laughter falls from my mouth abruptly. “I’m sorry, what?”
Agatha pulls her shoulders back, attempting to hide a layer of insecurity.
“Oh,” I say, lifting my chin. “I get it. I get it. You haven’t been fucked in a while, huh?”
I am just as stupid as Sapphire. But fuck, that felt good to say.
Her charged descent to my chair is unsettling. Pinched lips. Wide eyes. Sweat dripping down her temple. A frizzy, gray strand of hair pulled free from her tight bun. Agatha jabs out her hand and grabs me by the balls. I hiss through clenched teeth as she squeezes.
“You will respect me, boy! I could cut these off with a pair of old sewing scissors for using that language on me. Is that what you want?” Her yellow nails bite into my sensitive skin through my drawers as she tightens her grip.
Mmm-hmm. That gets my attention. Consider me reformed like Sapphire.
“No, I’m good,” I grit.
The world goes black around the edges as her fingers script a cruel sermon into my crotch. The nerves across my groin misfire, and my stomach lurches. I’ve lost the motor functions in my arms and hands to continue attempting an escape.
“I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that, boy?”
A thunderous gong claps inside my spine. Her bony hand twists deliberately—not enough to cause serious damage, but enough get the reaction she’s looking for.
I growl like a wild animal as my molars grind together.
Fuck!
I refrain from cursing in her face. Calling her the many insults populating in my brain at a rapid rate. I hold back the adjective I want to use. The foul, grotesque threats. The crude, downright evil taunts.
I might as well kiss my balls goodbye if I give in to those impulses.
“No, that is not what I want,” I growl.
Agatha smirks. “I thought so. You men are all the same. What a pathetic weak spot.”
Don’t you fucking say what you’re thinking, Niklaus.
That rigid hand unclenches, and I sag in both agony and relief.
My thighs tremble as the pain flares wide, cascading into my gut, laying down a heavy, potent wave of nausea for me to sit with.
My groin contains a slow, throbbing explosion.
The anguish deep in my pelvis makes it feel like something vital has been permanently severed.
But I know I have to wait. Breathe. Wait. Breathe.
Agatha glances back at Sapphire. Fuck, she looks bad. Open mouth. Half-crest eyes. Skin oily and practically a sick shade of green.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” she announces smugly.
Agatha’s absence is a huge fucking relief, yet dread settles into my chest as I wait for Sapphire to fire off a string of profanities and complaints. I’d welcome it actually. Anything to relieve this tension.
But she doesn’t say a word.