An Oath In Blood (Book #3)

Chapter 48: A Soft Launch?

Corvina Hawke

I had grown quite accustomed to the basement of my house. My parents often locked me in it, until I was half-dead with starvation and thirst, begging for them to give me a morsel of food or a sip of water. Nobody questioned my presence those days; I was sure my parents came up with a good enough lie to stop people from asking too many questions.

But tonight, the walls of the basement seemed more pressing, haunting in a way they had not before. An elaborate set-up greeted me when I stumbled down the stairs after my father, his grip on my wrist absolute.

Suddenly, I wished I hadn't left the Academy.

Dad pushed me towards the seat in the middle of the room, a woman sitting on a round stool beside it, cleaning her supplies. It was a tattoo station, rather a shop that seemed to have been set up in our basement.

"W-what is this?" I stammered as I glanced at my parents. My mother walked in after my father, her dress whispering against the floor. I could still hear Seb calling for me through the closed door of the basement.

"Your birthday present," came my father's calm response. His gaze didn't waiver as he held mine, a somber expression on his face.

"Mom?" I looked at my mother, whose brows furrowed at the title, as if she was offended that I had spoken to her.

"We heard what you did at the Academy last week," she spoke calmly, the way she always did. Sometimes, I thought my mother was not human, because her expressions seemed to be set in stone most of the time. Her smiles were measured and faint, and her frowns were merely a dip at the corners of her lips. "You were in solitary again?" she added and I felt my heart pummel to my stomach.

"I-it wasn't my mistake." I shook my head. I didn't know why the Big Guy sent my parents regular reports of my performance. Lily and Trish didn't have to worry about it—they were orphans. Sometimes, I wished I was one, too.

"Enough." My father's voice cut through the room, silencing me before I could say anything more—not that I was going to. "You are a disgrace." He shook his head, the words spoken with such casualty, that for a moment, I wondered if they were not meant to offend. "Every time I have to remind you of who you are—no—what you are. I am sick of it." He bared his teeth.

I took a step back, but the back of my knees collided lightly against the seat. My father turned to the woman, still sitting on the stool, ignoring the interaction so well that for a moment, I believed she was deaf.

"Dad, please," I begged, my voice catching in my throat. I didn't even know what he was going to do to me this time. But my survival instincts kicked in, and I knew that I needed to get away from him, that I needed to get out of the basement.

Seb's voice had faded—he would lose his voice again. It wasn't the first time he had screamed until he couldn't anymore. It wasn't the first time our parents had dragged me away to be punished in front of him. My knees shook.

"Get on the chair." My father's voice had taken a calm tone—eerily calm. I began shaking my head. Despite the fear ripping into my heart with its sharp claws and teeth, I couldn't cry. I had lost my ability to weep a long time ago.

"Dad-"

"I said get on the fucking chair!" I was startled as he raised his voice suddenly. It propelled me into action though. "Face down," he added. With my limbs shaking, I took the position he directed me into.

My body quivered, feeling weak from being in solitary the past week—the people in charge of the students at the Academy weren't punctual with the meals. I put my head on the seat, cringing against the strong smell of disinfectant mixing with leather.