Defiant: Book 2 of the Forbidden Series

Chapter Two: Hell

Van

When Van was eight, she sneaked into her mother's bathroom, determined to get into the makeup she knew was kept in the cabinet over the sink. Every morning she sat cross-legged in the doorway, watching Xandra swipe liquids and powders across her face in awe. Van didn't think the makeup made her mother prettier because there was no one who could compare to her mom in her eight-year-old mind, but she loved the rich pigments and bright shimmers.

Getting into the cabinet proved to be a challenge. She was small for her age, and even using her step stool, she couldn't reach the door, much less the top shelf holding the basket filled with makeup. Pulling out the drawers, she used them as steps and threw her leg over the countertop to hoist herself up.

It took a second for the pain to register. With a shriek, Van fell backward, landing on the tile floors with a jarring thud that didn't register over the burning in her flesh. Through tear-filled eyes, she stared at the blister blossoming on her shin. Later, it would turn into a scar in the shape of lips, a thin unmarred strip of flesh breaking up the redness where the clamp touched the barrel of the curling iron.

The effects of the potion started out like the curling iron incident. The fire in her chest caught her by surprise, but she couldn't escape it by falling off the counter. It grew until she collapsed in Luca's arms. She heard him tell her mother she was burning up, and then she heard no more.

But passing out didn't free Van from the agony. Instead, it made her more aware. It was as if she'd gone from warming herself over a bonfire to crawling into its center. She was trapped in the blaze, and there was no way out.

For days, she clawed at arms and legs covered in flames, feeling her skin tear and build up beneath her nails. She was the only light in a world of black, and she begged it to crush her into oblivion.

This was hell. It had to be. Her only consolation was that the pain was too great to allow her thoughts to wander far from its source. She couldn't wonder why she was being punished. She couldn't worry about the pain her death was causing her family and friends. Luca. They all ceased to exist for her.

Until, at last, the fire extinguished.

The concept of time didn't exist in this hell. Van thought she might have laid in a trembling heap for days or years before finding the strength to lift her head. A century could have passed before she was able to stand and blissfully, the memory of burning joined the memories of who she had been before coming to this place.

"H-hello?" she called out.

An echo answered her, and she reached into the darkness with a trembling hand, gasping when she saw the darkness recede. Her skin glowed with a white light that rippled when she moved. Pressing her finger to her arm, it flashed the colors of the rainbow, returning to its pure form when she pulled away.

Sitting down, she pulled her knees to her chest and stared into the black. It didn't take long for her to decide this existence was worse than burning. Now, she had time to think, only the longer she sat there, the harder it was for her to think thoughts. What was a person if not the collection of their memories and experiences? They were gone, and this world offered nothing new to replace them.

"P-please," she whispered, the syllable feeling foreign in her mouth. Her tongue was thick and didn't move correctly, making the word sound more like a grunt than any recognizable language.

Little by little the light receded from her body, bringing the shadows closer to her. Her legs were swallowed first. Then her arms. She shut her eyes, preferring the blank expanse of her mind to the monsters in the unknown darkness.