Chapter 20 #3
His fingers curled around his beating heart, and he pulled, cautious but without hesitation. The veins connecting the organ stretched, supported by more dark matter, until Dion held it on the outside of my father’s body, each agitated beat of the organ clearly visible.
“You see, Soleth Ortha, the duty of a parent is to guard their child’s body and soul, as well as their heart. You failed so completely that you don’t deserve a heart of your own, no matter how rotten it may be.”
My father screamed as Dion squeezed the organ into his fist. “Nevermore shall you control your daughter’s heart, body, or soul.”
“Dion—” My whisper was full of horror as I witnessed the scene while I was locked in place. I tried to close my eyes, but my body wouldn’t cooperate.
“Don’t worry, Naya. My revenge will give you freedom,” Dion said, full of conviction.
I wanted to answer, but my voice wouldn’t cooperate as Dion’s fist slowly contracted further around the beating organ.
My father screamed and moaned, sobbed, and begged until every single drop of blood had leaked out of his heart, which had given up on beating somewhere along the way. My father was dead and crumpled into a puddle of his own heart’s blood. Horror, sadness, but also relief battled within me.
But Dion didn’t grant me a single moment’s break. He turned to Jelric, and hatred surrounded him—a loathing so visceral that it overpowered everything else.
“Your actual death was unintended. That needs to be revised.” His eyes met mine. “This time, it won’t be an accident.”
Cold shivers ran down my spine as the midnight dagger appeared in my hand, and my legs moved forward. I tried to stop my approach—I really did—but nothing could keep me from advancing.
“Do it, Naya. Free yourself from the past—from your guilt. He deserves your punishment.”
My hand moved on its own, the tip of the dagger tracing over Jelric’s bare skin. Even though he was an evil man, I didn’t want to hurt him. Instead, everything in me begged to escape the field of carnage, but something held my body hostage, and my actions weren’t my own. I was merely an observer.
I pressed the tip of the dark dagger into Jelric’s shoulder, and it cut into his flesh like a hot knife into butter.
For a while, I busied myself with leaving shallow cuts all over his skin and watched the slow flow of blood painting his skin red, as it’d done to mine all those weeks ago. I was toying with his fear and agony as Jelric fought not to make a single sound.
Inside my mind, I revolted against what I did, against the strings that controlled me like a puppet—a puppet wearing a face just as sinister and vengeful as Dion did.
The burning wish to stop playing around, if there was no way to prevent this torture, was taking up all the room in my consciousness. I wanted this slaughter to be over with, and a thousand desperate voices screamed inside my head.
As I gripped the darkness dagger tighter and slowly moved the tip lower, across Jelric’s chest, past his belly button, and further, I finally got my wish fulfilled.
The weapon stopped at Jelric’s pelvic area, cutting into his flesh. Deep. Deeper. And by the time the dagger sliced off his manhood and testicles, his agonizing screams pierced the air.
I stared at my hand holding the midnight dagger as I castrated my former fiancé.
When I was done, I retreated to Dion’s side, and both of us witnessed the sight of Jelric bleeding out. Until the end, he was sobbing and moaning and screaming in pain, but neither of us moved or showed any pity.
After an eternity, the life faded from Jelric’s eyes, and silence hung in the air while Dion radiated with satisfied vengeance.
“This, and much more, will happen to everyone who only breathes wrong in your direction. I’ll be your shield and your sword. Your safety and your vengeance. No harm shall ever befall you again.” Dion stared at me with fire in his eyes as he vowed to protect me at all costs.
But I couldn’t help it. Now that I’d seen what his protection could entail, his vow sounded more like a threat.
I woke up with a start, my breath labored.
Sitting up and staring at my hands, half expecting them to be stained with blood.
Instead, I found only my slightly dirty skin, and the lingering doubt of dream or reality vanished.
All that talk of my past, revenge, and morally compromised actions must have gotten to me to trigger such a depraved dream scene.
My breaths slowly calmed down as I concentrated on each rise and fall of my chest, and I watched the remaining embers of our fire before my eyes searched for Dion.
He was sleeping next to me as usual, his face relaxed. He wore a satisfied expression so similar to the one of his dream double, and I recoiled, closed my eyes, and convinced myself that I was only imagining it.
The nightmare still lingered in my mind, and it was only natural I was projecting.
As if he felt my turmoil, Dion stirred and opened his eyes. His voice sounded hoarse and sleepy. “Why are you awake, Naya? You need to sleep.” His eyes already fell shut as he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down into a lying position.
Faster than it should have been possible for a man half asleep, he enveloped me in his arms and held me tight. All attempts to extract myself from his embrace were in vain. There was no escaping him, neither in my dreams nor in reality.
I silently sighed before accepting my fate, as I had in my nightmare, and allowing the warmth radiating from Dion to pull me back into a dreamless sleep.