Heaven or Hell

Chapter 17

Iyla's POV

Eleven and A Half Months Later

My breath came out in short pants. I could feel the cool breeze that swept through the bars and into my cell. 

I kept my head down hoping to get more air into my lung, but it was not working.

At the sound of feet walking down the hall, I forced me head back and groaned.

They want to torture me again? Did we not just go through this like an hour ago? I mean I can still smell the stench of my own blood as it pours out of my back. I cannot feel it, but I sure as hell can smell it.

"It seems like she isn't happy to see us?" I hear Greg, the second in command, say.

The sound of keys jingling and the cell door being pushed open, makes me lift my head.

Greg and his followers walk into the cell and turn on the crappy fluorescent light. The light flickers a few times before it starts humming.

"Hey there Iyla, how ya doin'?" The sarcastic asshole asks me.

"Just peachy." I mutter softly with a forced smile on my face.

Greg hums and walks closer to me.

"So, we have received word that you precious husband is coming to get you." Greg laughs. "We don't know when he is going to attack, but we are not going to stand around and wait."

I sigh.

"Why are you telling me this?" I breathlessly ask.

He gives me his infamous smirk and walks behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the whip to tear into the skin of my back.

I gasp as my body starts to fall to the ground. Taking a deep breathe, I cough as so much air enters my lungs.

"Sir," One of the guys say, "they are here."

The chains drop to the floor as I hear Greg walk towards me.

"I have decided to not be a complete dick, so when your husband shows up at least he won't have to see his beloved at her weakest." He states as he walks out of the cell.

"Leave the cell slightly open, I do not need them breaking anything we are broke enough."

I manage to finally look up as someone slides the cell door in place. The sounds of their footsteps disappear and are soon replaced with the sounds of pleas and screams.

Knowing it will take them a while I try to remove the metal chains from around my wrist. 

Honestly I am surprised that they are not broken. Being hung from a ceiling for three months is probably not good for your wrists.

My weak arms refuse to move as strongly as I need them too. Ignoring the chains I slowly start to rise to my feet. As I begin to stand up, my right foot slips on the chain and I fall to the floor once again.

Groaning, I stay on the floor and hope that I do not pass out before they get here. Black dots start to dance around the edge of my vision as I hear someone.

"Iyla!" I hear a distant voice yell.

"Iyla!" The voice yells once again, but much further this time.

Forcing my dry mouth open, I yell as loud as I can.

"I'm over here!"

Laying my head down, I close my eyes and wait.

Whoever is looking for me was in the process of calling my name once again before I yelled out to them.

The sound of their footsteps begin to sound much closer. A gasp is heard before the sound of the cell door opening reaches my ears.

"Iyla, Iyla hold on." The voice says, well more like whispers.

A warm sensation touches my wrist as the chains are being pulled off in one quick motion.

I slowly begin to open my eyes as the person picks me up into their arms. A groan escapes past my lips as the cloth of their shirt comes in contact with my back. My eyes involuntarily close in pain.

Quickly moving their arms I hear them saying something, but I do not understand exactly what they are saying.

Opening my eyes one last time all I see is blonde hair.

"Niall." I whisper before everything goes black.

-------------------------

The first thing I notice as my sense come back to me is that I am laying on something, something soft and fluffy. The second thing is that someone is touching my back and for some reason that creeps me out. Third thing is there is a hushed conversation going on and no matter how hard I strain my ears I cannot hear what they are saying, or who they are.

Finally deciding that I have been fake sleeping long enough, I wake up. A groan as I try to sit up, only to be forced back down by someone.

"Mrs. Malik, you must stay still. I am trying to tend to your wounds, once I am done I will help you sit up." Grace, my old doctor, says.

Listening to what she says I silently lay there for another ten minutes as she cleans my wounds and patches up my back. When she is done she sticks to her promise and helps me up onto my knees.

"Try not to lean against your back." She instructs as she turns me around.

As I turn around I see my husband standing at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

He still looks the same. Ruggedly handsome good looks, perfect hair, beautiful eyes, and a nice smile. If only that smile graced his face instead of the slight frown he was wearing.

Once I am situated Zayn dismisses Grace and sits on the edge of my bed.

"I would ask how you have been, but it is quite obvious with all of those marking on your body. I see the humans did not take it lightly on you, even though you are one of their kind." He states.

I sigh and look out the window.

"You do know you being captured was entirely your fault. If you had just gone to your room like I had insisted that night, then you would have never run off which means you would have never been captured." He mentions.

I bite my lip and slowly nod my head. He sighs once he realizes that I will not say anything to him.

"I did not mean to hurt you that night, but now I guess you can understand. When you do not follow my orders there will be severe consequences. It just seems that I was not the one to give it to you." He rises from his seat on the bed and walks towards the door.

"We leave in two weeks to go on the annual partner show. This year we have decided to go to the Caribbean. Grace said she will have you healed in that time, until then stay here and do not leave unless she says so. Do you understand?"

Finally deciding to look at him, I see the spark of hope he has in his eyes. His eyes slowly widen as he looks into mine.

"Yes, your majesty." I whisper with a slight head bow.

Whatever hope he had left slowly disappears as he walks out of the room with his head held down.

"Zayn, I want my own room in the Caribbean." I whisper before the door closes.

He does not enter the room again.

Doing exactly as Grace instructed me not to do, I lean my back against the headboard and think of numerous ways to have my sister burned alive and Zayn removed as Demon King.