𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

14

The chains rattle as I thrash against my restraints. My pleas for mercy tear from my throat. "NO! PLEASE DON'T KILL HER! I-I'm sorry I lied, just please..."

My desperate cries are cut off by a sudden, violent coughing fit, as I choke on my own blood. Suddenly, I feel a sharp, searing pain between my legs, as if a hot knife is being driven into me. It steals the breath from my lungs. My muscles seize and convulse under the onslaught. I try to scream, but all that comes out is a sound I hardly recognize as my own. It's the cry of a dying animal, that seems to come from some place I didn't even know existed inside me. The sound rings and echoes in my ears as I jolt awake, my breaths coming out in gasps.

For a terrifying, disorienting moment, I'm suspended between worlds. The phantom pain is still pulsing through my midsection. But slowly, reality filters back in; the softness of the sheets tangled around my legs, the familiar curtains in the bedroom, the absence of restraints biting into my neck. The scars on my psyche run far deeper than the ones on my skin, and they make themselves known every-single-night.

The bedroom door slams open. Damien bursts in, his gun drawn and his eyes scanning for a threat. Finding none, he lowers the weapon and hurries to my side. He slides into bed beside me, his strong arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace. "It's okay, baby. You're safe. I got you."

It's been weeks since my escape, and while the physical evidence of my torture is starting to fade - the bruises turning from angry purple to sickly green, the scars beginning to knit together - the emotional wounds are still raw and bleeding. I've barely left the house since my return, too haunted by the thought of what might lurk beyond these walls. Damien has been my constant shadow, rarely ever letting me out of his sight for more than a moment. Even a trip to the bathroom, only five feet away, is a journey I can't take alone. But rather than feeling suffocated, I find comfort in it. He's there to hold me when I wake up screaming. He's there to wipe away the tears that fall at the sight of a baby stroller on TV.

As he rocks me gently, his voice takes on a harder edge. "I'm going to make them pay for what they fucking did to you, Cat. I swear. I'll hunt down every last one of 'em and make them suffer for it."

There's a deeply seeded anger in his voice, a barely controlled violence that would frighten me if I didn't know it was born of love and his desperate need to protect me.

"I killed one of them..." I whisper. "Their leader."

Damien pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You did? How?"

I nod, the memory of blood on my hands flashing behind my eyes, and the sickening crunch of cartilage echoing in the back of my head. "I stabbed him. Forty six times I think. I had to...for our baby."

Something flickers in Damien's expression, a look that makes my heart stutter. "Cat..."

"I didn't have a choice." I cry, my voice cracking. "They were going to kill me. Kill our baby. I had to. I couldn't..."

Damien pulls me closer, his hand resting on the back of my head as he mumbles soothingly into my hair. "I know, baby. I know. You did what you had to do. I promise I won't let anything happen to you again."

"I was going to name her Faith," I whisper, the words catching on a sob.

Damien's breath hitches, his arms tightening around me. "Faith," he repeats softly. "She would have been perfect, Cat."

We stay like that for a long while, holding each other, mourning the future we'll never get to see. I pick my head up and take a deep breath. I swipe roughly at the tears with the back of my hand. "I don't. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I can't keep reliving it, Damien. It's eating me alive."