36. Saoirse
Saoirse
“ U seless.”
Thwack.
A hot lance of pain against my back, searing and bright, as my father towered over me from behind. Warm, wet blood trickled down my back, my hideous dress clinging to my skin in tatters as new wounds joined the old.
“Worthless.”
Thwack.
Red-hot agony bloomed across my jaw as my teeth clenched against the scream that I refused to let escape me. He’d already taken so much from me, I wouldn’t let him have this, too. I’d learned very early on that screaming did nothing except to make him more excited, his hits more destructive.
“Abomination,” he hissed, and I heard the telltale rustle of the spike-tipped leather as he wound the whip around his hand, preparing for his next strike. He never used his flare on me, preferring to do it with his own two hands, but this whip was an upgrade from the one he’d used on me in childhood. No doubt created to cause even more damage to myself, and anyone else he’d dragged down into this prison over the years. Hot tears blazed a trail down my cheeks as I tensed for the blow I knew was coming.
It was always in threes.
Thwack.
Stars danced across my vision and I gasped as my back arched away, trying its best to get away from the evil that caused it harm. Hush , I tried to tell it, my mind doing everything it could to not focus on my reality. That’s the last one. The hurt will fade.
It’d been six years since I had last been at his mercy like this, cowered and beaten beneath him, but still the memories came rushing back. As if no time had passed at all, visceral flits of my darkest days flashing in my mind’s eye.
Gooseflesh bristled to attention on my skin as the whip clattered to the ground with a resounding clang. My father’s heavy presence still hovered behind me. I didn’t dare turn around, not when we still shared the room. I’d made that mistake once, and once only. The break to my jaw had been so bad I’d had to stay locked inside my room for nearly a month as it healed, so no one asked any questions.
The silence stretched, slithering around my lungs, squeezing so tight I thought I might pass out. My heart pounded in my chest, reaching a crescendo that I was sure he could hear as panic set in. He always leaves.
For the first time, it occurred to me that given the circumstances, I couldn’t count on that. In his eyes, I was a traitor. An accomplice to an assassination to interfere with a budding alliance and marriage that could have changed everything for our two kingdoms.
To him, I was the catalyst that brought all that crumbling to the ground.
Leather screamed as he stepped forward, his booted foot disturbing the fine layer of dust that had settled on the dungeon floor. This was always where he’d taken me when he needed a release, a target to focus his anger on, even now.
I was never truly going to be free.
He squatted next to me, his knees cracking loudly as he did, and I couldn’t hold back the cringe of my body as he reached a hand toward me. My lungs were tight, and I heaved, desperate to get enough air as I tried to move, to crawl further away from him. Fear, true fear, split my spine as the realization that he very well could kill me crashed over me. His hand darted out, fisting a handful of my unruly hair so tightly I had to lift off the ground in order to keep it attached to my scalp.
“Let go!” I managed to gasp out, not daring to bring my arms up to fight against him, knowing one scratch could be the difference between me stepping foot outside of this room alive. I’d spent a few too many nights sleeping in the dungeon, and I’d do almost anything to not have to repeat the experience.
“Breathe, Saoirse,” he chuckled, my name falling off his tongue like a taunt. His tone was relaxed, like he hadn’t just torn my back to shreds. Like he wasn’t currently holding his eldest daughter like a ragdoll, my throat still burning from the earlier cut he had made there. “If you’d just been a good child and stayed out of my way, you wouldn’t be here.”
He leaned closer, his pungent breath nearly making me gag. “And a Darkwing at that? I never thought you very bright, but even I didn’t think you would consort to fucking the shadows. I saw the way he looked at you. Tell me, was the fuck worth your life?”
Bile rose in my throat, and before I could say anything, he punched me in my side, and I gasped silently, all the air draining from my lungs with the searing pain. Again and again, he punched and kicked me, until we both heard the sound of my ribs cracking. Finally, when he was spent, he stood straight again, the door to my cage clicking shut behind him. He stopped just outside the bars, turning to face me. I didn’t move.
“By the time I kill you, you’ll be begging for it. ”
And then he was gone.
I lay on the cold, hard floor long after he had gone, my body one giant throbbing pain. Every breath I took was misery, my ribs aching with each inhale. The dark cloud had descended upon me, taken me over from the inside out, and all that was left behind was despair.
The image of Vane fighting so fiercely to protect me, only to give up instead of fleeing. We’d come so close, the staff held in his hands, and he’d thrown it all away for me. Now he was somewhere else in this dungeon, probably getting his own beating right now. He’d been willing to sacrifice everything for me, and now we were both paying the price.
Our only hope was Xan, but I knew that was a long shot. She was a future queen; she couldn’t break out accused terrorists from the dungeon. We’d interrupted the wedding, and I wondered what happened to her. Was she safe? I hoped she was. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, and a deep sense of hopelessness settled in. I would die here, on this dusty floor, just another one of my father’s victims.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the pain, both physical and emotional, but it was no use. The memory of Vane’s voice, his touch, his determination—all replaying in my mind on a loop. I wished I could have been as strong as he believed me to be, but right now, all I felt was broken.
The thought of escaping, of fighting back, seemed like a distant dream. We were trapped, and there was no one coming to save us. The darkness of the dungeon felt stifling, and I wondered if this was where it would end for me.
My father’s words echoed in my mind, his cruelty and hatred leaving scars deeper than any damage he could cause me physically. I had tried so hard to escape their grasp, to build a life for myself away from his influence, but that was pointless. I was delusional to think I could have actually gotten away and started a life of my own.
I was back where I had started, helpless and at his mercy .
As the darkness closed in, I felt the last remnants of my hope slipping away. I was tired, so tired of fighting and trying to survive. I just wanted it to end, to escape the pain and fear and go to a place where I didn’t have to worry about that anymore.
As I drifted off into sleep, right there on the dirty ground, the last spark of hope within me died.