The Curiosities Concerning Fate

∷ Chapter 43 ∷

VOICES.

Distant murmuring and incomprehensible words wedged their way into Adine's mind. Their rampant urgency pushed her to do something: to get up, to run, to escape. Her confusion morphed into swirls of ink that dissipated and contorted into images storming her mind: the van, her father, Sebastian, the everpresent fear, and intense pain———

Her eyes snapped open as she gasped for breath and shivered at the sudden cold that nipped at her skin; realising a moment later that a pail of iced water had been dumped over her head. The water soaked her to the bone, her mind shifting continually between alertness and befuddlement.

The fog was beginning to lift as did her gaze when she focused on the stranger holding the empty pail above her head. She couldn't see his face but she knew it was one of the four men from earlier. He tossed the pail aside, its material causing a ruckus as it clattered against the ground in echoes. Adine flinched at the sound, the action somewhat amusing to him as he chuckled before leaving to join the others where they stood conversing with her father.

She watched as he handed them an envelope, exchanging words with them before stepping aside. The doors opened, allowing for the brief invasion of outside disturbances as she heard the distinct sounds of waves crashing. She forced herself to look around in an attempt to discern her whereabouts, ignoring the immense throbbing in her head at her sudden movement.

"You don't recognise this place?" Michael asked. She could hear his footsteps echoing the closer he got to her.

"A pity. To think I decided on this place just for you and you don't recognise it at all."

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Don't you know?"

Adine couldn't bring herself to speak. Her throat hurt too much and she felt as though her skull would split clean down the middle if she moved again.

"We're at the lighthouse you love so damn much," he said. "The same one you're always running off to."

She lifted her head at his mocking words.

"You knew?" she asked.

"Of course, I knew!" he shouted, causing her to flinch reflexively.

He was always so unpredictable. He would appear to be calm and collected one moment, only to start yelling over the smallest cause of agitation the next. And before she knew it, he would be hitting her with fisted hands that did not know mercy.

The yelling was always a cue for worse to come.

"I knew everything that went on in that miserable life of yours, you stupid wench," he hissed, stalking forward to grab a fistful of her hair.

She winced, closing her eyes against the harsh glare of the lights above. She heard him click his tongue in annoyance before roughly releasing his hold on her.

"I admit," Michael said, spinning on his heel to face his daughter with his arms stretched out before him. "I do have a flair for the dramatic which is why I decided to bring you here."

He noticed her confusion and deciphered her thoughts easily, saying, "Ah, you're wondering how I managed to get us in here."

He grinned, extracting a key from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"My friends can do anything for the right price," he said. "And since you used to come here when you were hurt, I thought it would be fitting to bring you here one last time. After all, you're going to be really hurt, really soon, and before long, you'll be dead so . . . Your final resting place: the lighthouse that used to cure your troubled soul. It's nice, don't you think?"