Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book 2

Chapter Eighty Six

Bianca

At some point during the day, I must have drifted into a deep slumber, surrendering to the gentle pull of exhaustion that seemed to pull me under its spell. When I finally stirred, the room was shrouded in darkness, shadows creeping along the walls like silent whispers. An inexplicable urge pulled me from my dreams as if an unseen force had reached out and nudged me awake. The air felt thick and still, tinged with a sense of mystery that hung like a heavy curtain, urging me to uncover what had roused me from my peaceful rest.

Stretching, on impulse, I found the culprit at the end of the bed, pulling me fully awake as I sat my body instantly up to the feeling of someone tugging at the covers around me.

"It's me, Bambi." Benji's voice gently washes over me, soothing my ruffled feathers. I collapse back onto the bed, surrendering to the soft embrace of the pillows, which cradle me like a cloud. It could be worse; it could have been Derek.

"You scared me," I whisper, my heart still racing with the unknown. My tummy rumbles, and I realise I haven't eaten the fruit he demanded I eat. In fact, I can't remember the last full meal I consumed.

"I'm sorry..." His voice trails off, leaving a lingering sense of uncertainty in the air. Unsaid words hang between us; I feel their weight pressing down on him.

"What...What is it?" I ask.

He stands up, pacing the bottom of the bed and holding onto the back of his neck. His posture screams for me to listen to it, and yet I find myself calling out for the lights to come on. I wasn't expecting the light to unveil just what it did.

Blood drips down his body in long lines like the drips on a cake.

"Benji?"

"It's nothing."

"That's not nothing," I fret, racing to the end of the bed to inspect the wounds littering his naked chest and back.

Scars upon scars glitter in the light, and new wounds, bloody lines that undoubtedly come from something striking his skin, something like a whip, weep angrily as they cry.

"He's demanded I fuck you," Benji whispers. "Tonight, every night," he choked on the beginning of a sob, his anguish evident as he kept his voice low and controlled.

"Why did he do that to you?" I ignore his revelation, not mentally equipped to acknowledge it, for fear I will actually have to face what he explains he feels he has to do.

"He figured it out," he laughs deliriously. "He didn't even need to look at the video feed. He knew the moment he walked in and kept it to himself. He always keeps it to himself. He made me look back through the footage, watching every decision where I broke the rules and then asking what he should do to punish me. To punish my brothers, who he deemed as my accomplices."

"What? Your brothers, too?" I ask, grasping at straws. Is he completely with it? Does he need a doctor? Could I even call one?

"I took you when I wasn't supposed to. I gave you the freedom most have never received here. They knew, and they lied for me. That's deemed an act punishable by pain."

"Benji..."

"Shh..." he silences me, walking towards me, pushing me back on the bed with his mere presence. He hovers over the top of me, his chest brushing my own as we breathe. I'm caged to the mattress, his heat enveloping me as his blood and sweat cling to my nostrils.

My fingers come out, stroking below a gnarly-looking cut that wraps around his peck and up to his shoulder and, no doubt, down his shoulder blade behind him.

"I have to. I have no choice," he continues to explain, forcing my hand and attention to him, to his hand that rests at my waist.

"You always have a choice," I breathe.

"I can't keep pushing my boundaries, Bambi; our future depends on my walking the line, not crossing it. And I'm not sure my body would last another beating."

"You don't have to do this."

"You're right; I don't," he replies, calming me as he shifts to lie beside me, lifting his weight off me. I relax, letting him rest his head on my chest while his breathing remains uneven. "I'm sorry, Bambi."

"I'll take your beating," I whisper, making him still.

"Puro congelare," he whispers, stroking my hair away from my face.

****

The room is brightly illuminated, the harsh overhead light reflecting off sterile surfaces and casting sharp shadows. A firm pressure around my bicep pulls me from the depths of slumber. I blink against the brightness, and my gaze lands on the doctor from a few nights ago, his earnest eyes fixed on me as he assesses me with a quiet sterility.

"How are you feeling?" he inquires, his face adorned with a reassuring smile. The corners of his mouth lift genuinely.

"Fine," I reply, the frown I wear contradicting my words, revealing the unease lingering within me.

"Just checking up on you. You seem to be recovering quite well," he continues, his demeanour calm and professional.

"I feel fine," I murmur, my voice barely rising above a whisper, the uncertainty still gnawing at the edges of my mind.

He extends his hand and offers me a small pill pot, its singular round white pill resting inside like a solitary pearl. "Here, take this," he urges gently.

"What is that?" I ask carefully, glancing at the water he offers me, the liquid shimmering in the light. "Medication to ensure there's no... infection," he explains, nodding toward the glass, his brow slightly furrowed with concern.

Tentatively, I accept both the cup and the pill container, my fingers trembling slightly as I bring the cup to my lips. I fill my mouth with the cool water, swallowing the liquid almost instinctively. Then, with a flick of my tongue, I manoeuvre the pill between my teeth and cheek, grappling with the texture.

"Very good," he sighs contently, his expression softening as he watches me. The warmth in his voice offers a momentary comfort amid the uncertainty that still lingers in my chest.

With that, he takes his things and leaves, leaving me to wonder what he was feeding me. I race to the bathroom and take the tablet from my mouth, the medicine disintegrating in my fingers.

"Bambi?" Benji's voice drifts softly from the bedroom, a gentle whisper that dances through the air and brushes against my consciousness. It invokes a faint stirring within me, a flicker of something important that tugs at my mind, yearning for attention. Yet, I choose to sidestep its persistent call, allowing the noise to fade into the background as I linger in my own thoughts, shrouded in distraction at the sink.

"Are you okay?" he inquires, leaning against the doorway, concern etched on his face, as I watch the final remnants of the tablet swirl down the drain in a silent farewell.

"Fine," I reply curtly, a scowl forming on my lips. "Why do you ask?"

His brow furrows as he steps closer, a hint of trepidation in his voice. "Do you remember much from last night?"

I pause, the memories flickering like distant lanterns in the dark corners of my mind. A vivid image strikes me: him at the foot of the bed, his body marred with crimson streaks and pain evident on his features. Then, a strange conversation flits through my thoughts—disjointed and bewildering—before everything fades into deep obscurity, most likely because I fell asleep again.

"You're hurt," I stammer, my voice betraying a mix of shock and concern as the reality of the situation settles in.

"I was," he acknowledges, his nodding solemn, the shadows of yesterday hanging heavy between us.

I race toward him, eager to scrutinise his face in the harsh glow of the artificial light, but his hands shoot out to stop me, our bodies almost brushing. An urgent sensation compels me to confront whatever this is between us, yet the memory slips like water through my fingers, elusive and just out of reach. As the weight of unspoken words settles heavily in the air, an invisible chasm forms between us, and I instinctively take a step back.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, offering a tentative smile that fades as he turns to leave. Confusion swirls within me, a maelstrom of questions I can't voice, and I watch him retreat, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of my room as he hurries away as if his life depended on it.