Ruthless

29

My hands trembled as I approached the door, eager to leave the room. Despite the strong urge to glance back and witness Hades' reaction, I resisted the foolish temptation. The prospect of facing him again seemed daunting, and I doubted my ability to stand on my feet.

Not that it isn't already a miracle that my legs could bear my weight, and an even greater one that I could move with feet that felt like jelly.

Secondly, I am determined not to give them the satisfaction of witnessing my broken state.

Struggling, I somehow carried myself to the bar and began setting the table. However, my hands shook so violently that I almost dropped everything.

"Be careful; these are more expensive than your entire life," she stated with disdain.

Her snide remarks are nothing new; this isn't the first time I've heard them, and it won't be the last. They're not exclusive to me but extend to every woman working here. Yet, surprisingly, her words failed to annoy me this time, nor had I wished for her to stumble and break her long, pointy nose.

"Anyway, utilize your miserable life and take this, but be cautious. I don't want your clumsy self creating a mess here."

"Could you please handle this in my place?" I muttered.

I kept my eyes lowered throughout, so I missed the expression on her face, but I could already envision her breathing fire through her nose.

Despite the conversation and the unsettling events outside, I remained internally disturbed by the judgmental stares. I've admitted before that I do care about what people think of me, and it continues to bother me.

"But-"

"Please," I pleaded, not giving her a chance to refuse.

Without waiting to hear any complaints or refusals, I swiftly walked out of the room. Although I didn't hear her scream, a buzzing sound in my ears made her words incomprehensible.

**********

Upon stepping into the room, I promptly secured the door behind me, craving a moment of time alone. It's times like these when the absence of a personal space weighs heavily on me. Room-sharing lacks the luxury of privacy; anyone could enter unannounced.

My legs felt on the verge of giving way, and to prevent a potential injury from falling, I gently slid down, leaning against the door with my back.

A reflexive harsh sob escaped me, and I instinctively covered my mouth to stifle the loud sound. Tears streamed down my face as nightmarish memories replayed in my mind, vividly etched into my memory. The agonizing screams, the dungeons, the pain, darkness, starvation, and their touch overwhelmed me, leaving no room for any other thoughts or feelings.

"Faith, open the door!" Austin's urgent voice echoed as he banged against the door. This is what I meant, but the lack of privacy and, let's not even go, to Austin's exaggerated reaction. Clearly, he must be scared. I have hurt myself. If not, at least it is my intention of harming myself.

"Open the door, or I'll break it!" Austin threatened, persistently banging on the door. Rolling my eyes, I couldn't fathom the need for such dramatics.

The door-kicking impact nudged me too, and I realized Austin would break it if I delayed any longer. Reluctantly, I got up and opened the door. My raised eyebrows questioned him before my mouth asked. "What?" I asked, still having some irritation about intruding on my personal time.

Austin pushed past me into the room, inspecting the surroundings and fixating on the ceiling fan. Did he expect to find a rope hanging from it? Rolling my eyes again, I observed his unhappy expression when he turned to face me.