Her Deviant Husband | [✓]

Chapter 62

Trigger Warning:  Violence, Torture, Mutilation, Blood and Revenge

This chapter contains intense depictions of physical and psychological torture. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Note: Refer Unwritten (Sehgal Sister's arc for more context)

- - -

His screams had stopped meaning anything.

They had started as wails, raw and guttural, the kind that made my guards bones rattle and the air thick with the scent of fear. Then they had softened into hoarse, broken cries, and now, they were nothing but silent whimpers, his body too ruined to scream, his voice too shredded to make a sound.

Anhad hung from the rusted metal chains, his arms stretched above his head, wrists cut open just enough to let the blood flow, but not enough to kill him.

Who would know better than me what he had put my mother through. I had seen the cuts on my mother's wrist. Which she had always tried to cover with her bangles.

So why not let him face the same pain for as long as he could?

But, that too would be too easy. Too merciful.

Mercy was for men.
For humans.

Anhad was not a man.

I sat on a chair opposite him, my eyes bloodshot, body twitching as the reality around me flickered in and out. I could feel myself slipping, my mind disintegrating into something cold and monstrous, something that did not remember what it meant to be human.

The amount of killing I had done in these two days.
Was starting to make me feel numb.
Numb to everything.

And fuck, it felt good.

"Hor das," I murmured, my voice a whisper. "Do din, sirf do din ho gaye. Jaan nikal gayi?"
(Tell me, just two days, only two fucking days, and you're ready to die?)

Anhad's head lolled to the side, his swollen eye barely able to open, lips cracked and bleeding. His body if we can even call it that any longer with all the violence—gashes carved into his flesh, nails ripped from their beds, fingers twisted at unnatural angles.