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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR pure, raw rage
⋆*✧･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:
A KNIFE TORE INTO NADINE'S stomach, splitting her skin open from the epigastric region all the way down to her belly button. It was a long, jagged cut, dragging with enough force to pull back layers of skin. As it descended, it released a fountain of blood in its wake, which was soon accompanied by the expulsion of guts. The pain of this was indescribable—really, Nadine could barely feel it herself. It was one searing agony, then nothing. The only emotion that remained was shock, and that only occurred when she looked up into the eyes of her attacker.
Because it was Allison who was holding the knife.
Betrayal is a curious thing. You put so much of your faith into someone, baring your soul, spilling your secrets, allowing them to know every inch of you, bodily, only for them to turn right around and slit your throat when you're not looking. It doesn't matter that they perhaps know more about you than anyone else. It doesn't matter that they know you're a person, that you're not just another faceless entity standing in their way. They still make the choice to forsake you. They still squeeze the life out of you and watch you writhe.
Allison hadn't actually physically stabbed Nadine, but the betrayal she'd committed hurt as much as if she had. Allison was supposed to be one of her best friends—no, more than that. A member of her family. And here she was, standing in front of Nadine with no remorse in her eyes, performing the unforgivable—not just taking her bodily autonomy away, but her privacy, too.
You have trailed him like a pathetic puppy since day one. You're always following his lead, always on his side. You can't stand the idea that he can be wrong, can you? Because you're just too fucking obsessed with him.
For years, now, Nadine couldn't put into words the way she felt about Viktor. The week she'd met him, she'd fallen in love with him, but it was a jumbled, tangled love, one that didn't quite know if it was platonic or the buddings of romantic. Then she'd lost him and gained a girlfriend of her own, and he hadn't even remembered her, anyway. Even so, there was still something there—above all, she supposed, the visceral need to protect him. Some degree of love had still remained, but it had been pushed so far down that it struggled to define what it really was.
And now, the present. Molly and Sissy were both gone, and Nadine had gravitated to Viktor more than ever, needing something familiar to hold onto. Viktor was... he was constant. He was welcoming. He was... well.
He was beautiful, too.
These feelings... they were hot and passionate, confusing and curious. Nadine still couldn't understand what it was about Viktor Hargreeves that so lured her in—like a siren at sea—but it had always been him. It would always be him.
