I've forgiven Grayson.
For keeping secrets. For not telling me everything. I can't die carrying fear of him, not fear, not hate.
Not like this.
I'm too tired for that.
I'm surprised I'm still alive. From the moment I arrived, that nail studded pole, the way it tore through my skin and ripped clumps of hair free... still haunts me. My body is a map of bruises, cuts, and raw flesh.
Days without food or water have hollowed me out.
My wounds fester; the skin around my wrists shredded to the bone by cruel, merciless chains.
My lips are cracked and split so badly that even the slightest movements sends sharp waves of pain through my face.
I'm too weak to cry anymore.
No tears left to fall.
Joe prowls around me like a predator admiring his prey.
His knives gleam in his hands, cold and cruel. His other tools, torture instruments, lie spread out like trophies on the table beside us. He snarls low and dark, venom dripping from every word.
"All these years, I respected your mother's wishes," he spits, the word tasting like poison. "Never touched you like that. Didn't cross that line."
For a moment, I almost laugh, bitter and hollow. Wow. She actually protected me from something? But even that thought curdles. She probably only did it because she didn't want to share him. Because she couldn't stand the thought of him wanting me instead of her. Not for me. Never for me.
His grin twists, sick and humorless.
"But your mom?"
He leans closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"She doesn't do it for me anymore."
His eyes blaze with cruel fire.
"Since you've served your purpose, and unfortunately didn't even work, you're not loved. No one cares about you."
... I already knew that.
He steps forward, slow and deliberate, hunger in his gaze like a beast about to feast.
"I'll show you what it's like. What it means to be with a man." His tone drips with mock tenderness, the words rotting as they leave his mouth. "I'll make you feel so good... before I finally end your life."
I'm empty. Drained.
Too weak to fight, scream, or even breathe properly.
My mind screams in terror, but my body lies still, a fragile shell, broken and barely holding together.
Joe's hand grips my arm, dragging me harder onto the filthy cot.
He's on top of me now, heavy and cold. He slides between my legs.
My heart slams in my chest, desperate.
One of his knives is suddenly in his hand. Slowly, deliberately, he drags the flat of the blade from my collarbone down my chest, over my ribs, past my stomach, mocking me with every inch.
When the cold steel reaches the soft skin of my inner thigh, he pauses.
Then the blade bites.
A hot, stinging slice, close... too close... to where I am most vulnerable. My breath catches, a choked sound I can't control.
Joe's smile widens, his voice almost playful. "But I don't want to make you feel too good now," he murmurs, savoring each word. "After all... I'm here to torture you."
He drops the knife on the floor and begins to fumble with the zipper of his pants, pulling it down, his face inches from mine.
He pulls what's left of my dress up, that sickening smile curling his lips.
"I've waited a long time for this," he grunts, excitement laced with menace.
I close my eyes, hoping this will be my last breath.
And then...
A distant scream cuts through the thick air.
Another.
Boots pounding hard on concrete, fast, urgent.
Gunfire cracks, sharp and sudden.
Joe freezes, his face twisting in confusion and anger.
"What the fuck is going on?" he snarls, sliding off me abruptly.
His heavy boots hit the floor as he strides toward the door. Before he can reach it, the door explodes inward.
It crashes against the wall with a deafening slam, nearly ripping off its hinges. Men burst into the room, guns drawn, shouting orders, a whirlwind of chaos tearing through the silence like a hurricane.
The men flood the room, closing in on Joe like a tightening noose. Every barrel, rifles, pistols, locks on him, unblinking and deadly. The air crackles with raw, electric energy. Joe's snarling fades into a grimace. He's caught. Trapped.
Then the door behind them swings open again.
Grayson steps in.
Black from head to toe. A tight, long-sleeve shirt clings to his lean, muscular frame; sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the hard lines of his forearms. Tactical pants, combat boots, tailored to deadly precision. His presence commands the room: cold, lethal, unyielding. Sharp eyes that miss nothing. His jaw clenched, lips pressed thin, but beneath it all, a simmering heat. The kind of dangerous that makes your skin tingle.
He doesn't rush. Doesn't need to.
He walks in slowly. Steady.
Joe's eyes flicker with pure, visceral hate.
Grayson's voice cuts through, lethal, quiet, a promise of pain. To me, it's just muffled noise.
Without hesitation, Grayson gestures to two hulking men. They seize Joe, arms and legs, lifting him clear off the ground.
My vision begins to blur as Grayson turns toward me. I can't make out his expression, just the shape of him into shadows.
But my heart still skips.
I want to move toward him, to say something... anything. Relief and hope surge through me. He found me.
But the pain, the exhaustion, the terror, all crash down.
His face blurs further, melting into the dark.
I try to reach out, but my arms lies limp at my side.
My vision narrows, tunnel like, until all I see is his shadow receding.
His voice... faint, unreachable, echoes just beyond the darkness closing in.
And then... nothing.
I HATE JOE! GET HIM GRAYSON!
Aven is finally savedddddd!!! How do you think she's going to recover after this?
Vote and comment! I like to know what your thoughts are!
Word count:1001
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Shattered Asylum
RomansaShe escaped a house full of monsters... but she never stopped being hunted. I thought I escaped the worst of it. But some monsters don't stay in the past. After years of surviving in a house that only knew cruelty, sixteen year old Aven is sent to l...
