Destroyed(58)

I deserved an eternity of purgatory.

Zel climbed onto her knees, double-fisting the knife. “Who the hell are you?”

I dropped my eyes, looking detachedly at the wounds in my legs. The red seemed to twist and helix into shapes. I became entranced watching the droplets spread into a larger stain on the carpet, turning black to deep red. Who am I? I don’t know. I’ll never know who I was before they broke me.

I deliberately poked the oozing wound in my thigh with an unforgiving finger. I winced, hissing through my teeth. The cut wasn’t big, only a centimetre in length, but it was deep.

I’d been stabbed, beaten, and tortured more times than I could remember, but Zel was the first female—the only woman—to ever inflict harm on me.

My eyes flew up at the thought. Every injury had been given by a man. Either sought out by fighters or retribution from my handlers.

My anger toward Zel changed to deep respect. Something untangled deep inside me, unlocking long forgotten needs. I wanted companionship, friendship—someone I could rely on to never let me get out of control.

It was as if the sun entered every recess of my brain, chasing away the darkness and despicable past leaving me to see clearly for the first time in my life. Hazel was strong enough, brave enough, stupid enough to put up with me. I could suddenly breathe easier, and the hatred for myself ebbed just a little—leaving me suspended, tingling with hope.

I drank her in: her fire, her temper, her amazing strength. She was fierce and quick and smart. She’d prevented a Ghost from killing her. No one had been able to stop me mid-mission.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but what could I say? How could I put into words the epiphany Zel gave me from stabbing me in the leg? She’d knocked more sense into me with one action than anything she’d screamed at me in passion. She may never forgive me, but I’d fallen more under her spell and had no chance in hell of letting her go.

Panic raced in my veins with a compulsion to tie her up and never let her out of my sight again.

“What’s wrong with you, Fox?” Zel snapped me out of my thoughts. She sat braver, slightly recovered. Her lips were parted, eyes wild, and the buttons in her shirt had torn open revealing lace-cupped breasts.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away. “Everything’s wrong,” I murmured. My heart thudded with lust, so different to the driving throb of taking her last night. This was different. It was laced with something deeper, more profound. I wanted to be deep inside her. I didn’t want to come fast or search for a quick release, but just feel her heat and rest a while.

Rest.

Sleep.

A chill seeped into my bones, and I dimly wondered how much blood had spewed from my body to floor.

Perhaps it was best if I just let go. Let death finally take me.

Anything would be easier than the constant fight—even if Zel had shown me hope.

A rustling caught my attention and I craned my neck to look at Zel standing above me. “You move and I’ll stab you.” Her green eyes glowed and the knife stayed pointed in my direction. “Stay there.”

The incredible urge to say ‘yes, sir’ filled me with amazement.

Oh, my f*cking hell.

By earning my utmost respect, she’d somehow earned a top hierarchy in my mind.

I’d done it. I’d found what I’d been searching for and constructed a replacement for my handlers. If I could learn to obey Zel’s every command—to find that sweet surrender of never thinking, always obeying—I might find freedom.

I would belong to her body and f*cking soul. She could order me to do anything and I would, regardless.

That’s not freedom.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to curse. I hadn’t found freedom. I’d just replaced one prison with another.

My head swam as I closed my eyes. I’m f*cked.

The sound of the door locking gave me something to latch onto, but I let myself drift—welcomed the vagueness, the coldness, ignoring the intermittent shivers and lightheadedness.

Sighing, I let myself tumble back into memories.

The stars above glittered in the black velvet sky. A small flurry of snowflakes made their way into my pit when the wind blew from the northeast.

Frostbite was my only friend and I lay on the icy ground with only leaf matter and mud for insulation.

I made a promise.

The first opportunity, I would kill myself. This wasn’t a life. It was servitude. I would be better off dead than alive and doing the devil’s work.

Crossing my seventeen-year-old fingers, I swore on the moon.

“I will kill myself to avoid more orders. I’ll put myself down like the predator they’ve trained me to be.”

My eyes flew open. I’d forgotten that promise. It’d been pushed to the depths of my mind as more and more travesty was layered upon me.

But I could keep that promise now. I didn’t have to search for someone to obey, so I could fall back into old patterns. I could control my own fate for once.

The pill.

My head flopped to the side, looking toward the wardrobe. I couldn’t keep putting people around me at risk. I was too messed up; I needed too much help. To think I could change was a fairy-tale. I wasn’t the handsome knight who won the girl—I was the scarred troll whose only purpose was to be killed.

It was time to end it.

The day my handler tossed me out, he’d given me a goodbye gift. His parting order had been to swallow the pill and erase myself from existence. I fought the command for days, not wanting to die.