The Key to My Hart

Chapter 29

Trigger warning: assault, blood, gore, death, SA

Peter came down the stairs with two bowels of soup. I'd forgotten to tell Angel not to eat or drink anything. She was currently pretending to be asleep. Angel was already weak as a person, I wasn't sure she needed anything to keep her from struggling or escaping.

Peter kicked Angel in the ribs. To my surprise, she didn't even flinch. Just groaned softly as if she felt it in her sleep. I remained expressionless as Peter turned his attention to me.

"Has she woken up yet?" He snapped.

"No." I lied. "Pretty sure she hit her head hard when you shoved her down the stairs."

He grumbled to himself before stepping up to give me my bowl of food. Despite hunger gripping my stomach and my chapped dry bleeding lips, I turned my head away.

"Do you really want to play this game?" He growled out. His fingers tangled in my hair as he gripped my head still. He tipped the bowl up to my mouth. My lips parted, but only wide enough for my teeth to bite down on the plastic lip. A slight tug from my head and Peter's already unsteady hold on the bowl rocked it from his fingers. The bowl clattered to the floor.

"You stupid cunt!" He raged, backhanding me. He jerked his arm backwards to the small tray of tools and grabbed the first thing his fingers touched. It was a nice looking Damascus hunting knife.

There wasn't time to truly appreciate the designs on the steel before he stabbed it into my thigh. I screamed at the fresh wave of pain and thrashed against my bonds. His hand tightened around the handle, but then he paused and seemed to think better of it. Instead, Peter left the knife in my leg and reached back for another one. I wasn't even paying attention as he shoved another blade into my other thigh. I bucked upwards, wanting to get away from the pain.

Guess he found a new game to keep from being bored. Afterwards, there were six different knifes sticking inside my body. Four in my legs, the other two in my forearms.

Peter took a couple steps backwards to study his work. He grinned like a child in a candy shop. Glancing down at Angel, he sneered at her still "sleeping" form. He gave her a couple more kicks then left the room.

Angel opened her eyes, finally, and they widened when she saw the knives sticking out of me. "Atalia... this is a dumb question, but are you okay?"

"No, Angel, I'm not okay." There was no stopping the tears from falling. I was tired. Just so very tired. I wanted to give up. Give up being strong. Give up waiting to be rescued. Give up wishing for something good to happen. Changing the subject, I said, "I'm surprised he bought your fake sleeping act. Especially considering your gag was removed."

She grimaced. "I panicked. I left you alone to fend for yourself. I'm so sorry. I was just scared."

"No." I exhaled. "You did the right thing. I can survive the stabbing. Although, I'm surprised he went for my thighs again."

"Why?" Angel tilted her head, eyebrows drawn together.

I chuckled. "Because I peed on him last time he got too close."

Angel guffawed before clamping her teeth down on her lips. "You did not?"

"Yes. Yes I did." I grimaced trying to adjust myself. "I think my body is trying to heal around the knives." The feeling was very painful and itchy. If I did heal, taking the knives out would reopen the wounds. Hell, moving too much would continue to reopen them. This was probably by far the worst pain he had inflicted on me.

"I guess I know why your voice is so rough." She whispered.

I startled, shifting the knives, and bit back a groan. "I think my voice may be permanently damaged." It was a confession I hadn't wanted to admit to even myself.