Somewhere Between the Depths

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nora

My ribs ache, the left side of my face aches, blood is actively pouring from the knife wound Knox left on my thigh. My wrists rubbed raw from trying and failing to break free from the damn rope. I let out a sigh through my nose. Of all the ways to die...  I wouldn't say I was defeated, just accepting of my situation. I should've known better than to try and do this alone, I'm a fighter, not a goddamn assassin. Granted, if I wasn't tied up, I would've killed them both already. But that wasn't the hand I was dealt. 

I refuse to wallow in self-pity if these are truly my final hours. I have a lot to be thankful for. The time I've spent with Gran and Lydia the last few years have healed me in ways they'll never know. I've found the warmth and love in both of them that I was missing for so long. I was able to forgive not only Lydia, but myself for ever blaming her in the first place. I know she still thinks it was her fault, but I hope that I've done enough to convince her that it wasn't. She's my best friend in the whole world, and I wouldn't have survived the aftermath of this place three years ago without her. She saved me. 

I'm grateful that Silas is alive, that I was able to be back in his arms even if it was for an impossibly short time. I never believed in soulmates before, but if they're real then he's mine. Honestly, I never believed in much of anything before coming here. But this town, the people in it, they changed me. I don't regret coming here, not for a second. Even now, with death looking me in the face, I wouldn't change it. I was lost, a broken shell of a girl who was only filled with rage so I wouldn't have to face the darkness and despair swirling inside me. Sure, I was angry, and I had every right to be, but mostly, I was just sad. I was a sad little girl. I didn't deserve any of the horrible things that happened to me, I did nothing to provoke that type of behavior. It wasn't my fault. 

Seems simple, doesn't it? I'm sure most people would think, well of course it wasn't your fault. But when you're deep in the middle of it, tortured and abused day in and day out, you begin to think that maybe it is your fault. How could it not be? You must have done something to deserve this, but the simple fact is that some people are just evil. They're rotten to their core and they don't care that you're innocent. They don't care about you at all. My only crime was that I wasn't Jace Prescott's daughter. He was a sick fuck who punished me for not sharing his blood, but I'm glad I don't. Cash is my father, and the thought that I'll never get to tell him he's a good one has a lump welling in my throat. 

I sit back in the chair, wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs. I'm not that angry or sad girl anymore. I'm happy. I've felt pure happiness and love, and that's more than some people get. I've dreamed up a future so beautiful, one I never thought I could have, but I know if I hadn't been led here, it would've become a reality. That's what I hold onto as Knox approaches me again, slamming his fist into my midsection, the knife glinting off the shop lights in the warehouse. I breathe through the pain and envision summer days spent on a porch swing while Silas works on his bike in the front yard. I gasp as the scar on my collar bone is sliced open, squeezing my eyes shut as I picture dancing to a slow song in the kitchen, sipping iced tea on our porch, Silas coming home with roses whenever he has to go away on a trip. I picture babies with his chartreuse eyes and my dark hair. I can see it all past the blinding pain, I can hear the laughter and contented sighs past the leering and taunting coming from Knox and Sloane. 

I can't even see them anymore. I can only see what could've been, what should've been. They can wreck my body, but they'll never take this away from me. 

"Not going to beg, baby?" Sloane grins wickedly, coming into view. 

I only give the smallest of smiles which he promptly smacks off my face. I keep my head turned to the side, but he grips my jaw with bruising force, turning me back to face him again.