From Despair Comes Hope (The Strange Case of Devin Sola Book 1)

Sunny Came Home

I look around the throne room carefully before setting foot in there. The last thing I want is to be trapped in there with Ares. I am not allowed to call him Dad, Daddy, or even Father. After all, I am a worthless piece of trash – bringing hope to the world when all he wants to do is rain destruction and war. "Charlatan? What are you doing in here?" Damn. He's caught me.

"Nothing Ares." Stubborn as always, I refuse to call him Sir and refuse to bow to him. Occasionally he'll let it slide, but I doubt he'll do so this time. I am right.

In a flash he is behind me, grasping the back of my neck. At the touch-trigger, I drop to my knees, hands in my lap, eyes on the floor. "Please don't let him whip me." I think to myself, knowing full well that the whip will be coming, no matter how much I wish it away.

A shudder runs through me as I hear the metal barbs of the whip drag across the floor. "What did you say?" His voice is menacing, but when isn't it?

"Nothing Ares." I say again. The whip crashes against my back, which is bare as always. My shirt leaves my back open for the whip at all times.

"What did you say?" He repeats. I know the drill: this will continue until I call him Sir and probably beyond that.

"Nothing Ares." I bite out, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. I am only five years old, but I've already been beaten and broken into submission – or as submissive as that bastard can make me. The whip lashes again and again, the silvery red blood of the Angels flowing down my back like a gruesome waterfall. It doesn't matter. The gashes will heal. Finally having had enough, I bite out, "Nothing, Sir."

"That's better." The final lash rips my cheek from temple to jaw in a jagged line.

I wake up sweating, the memory feeling just as real as when it originally happened. It always comes whenever I speak of or think about Ares. I touch my cheek, feeling the blood drip and knowing that as always, the force of the memory has reopened the wounds. Hopefully they will be healed by the time I go to find Chris and the rest.

I know the next one will be worse and I know I can't stop it unless I stay awake. So awake I stay, trying to figure out a way to fix Devin without needing my powers. I realize with a sigh that I can't.

***The Next Morning***

I wander the house in search of anyone. It almost seems the mansion is deserted. Finally I happen upon a great dining room, where I find Chris seated at the head of the table. I silently glide over and stand next to a chair, softly clearing my throat to let him know I am there.

"Oh, Miss Cage." He smiles. "Please, sit." He gestures to the seat next to his on his right. I sit carefully, hoping he can't tell that I am in pain. The wounds on my back are still there, prompting me to choose a Bleeding Through t-shirt and black jeans for my outfit today – though I am still wearing the buckled platform boots. I am simply thankful that the wound on my face is gone. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, thank you." I lie easily. When you've been asked a million times if you slept well, you learn to say yes and let it go. "But please, don't call me Miss Cage. I feel like an old school teacher when you do."

"I'm sorry, for some reason I keep forgetting to call you Charli. I apologize." Chris gives me a rueful smile. "I tend to be too formal when not dealing with our fans."

"Well, I'm a fan of MIW, so you can feel more at ease calling me Charli. Now, I've figured out what is wrong with Devin." I say, not wanting to waste anymore of his time since I can't help him.

"Tell me, Charli. What is the problem?" Chris asks. "What is wrong with Devin?"

I take a deep breath. "Do you believe in Greek mythology – Hades, the Underworld, & the river Styx?"

"Yes, why?" Chris asks with a puzzled expression. "What does that have to do with Devin?"

I hesitate. "Devin's soul is in the river Styx. And I'm the only one who can get him out."