Identity

Chapter Two

Matisse jerked his arm from his son’s grasp and made his way down the steps slowly. his face showed that not only was he going to whip me but that he was going to enjoy it. Immensely. I wanted to claw that look off his face, and then claw out his emotionless eyes while I was at it.

 

He smiled as if sensing my thoughts.

 

Cais launched himself in front of his father, putting a barrier between me and the heartless monster.

 

“You can’t even be sure she did it!” he argued putting his hands up as if to stop his father.

 

Matisse backhanded him so hard he fell to the ground.

 

“Put him back in his room.” Matisse commanded the confused guards who were still hovering by the door unsure of who was in charge. “He is obviously unable to keep his wits about him when facing a pretty girl and is therefore unworthy of the power this position grants him. I will have to resume the position until he remembers the duties paired with it.”

 

The boy in question was standing back up to put himself between me and Matisse again when a few guards grabbed him and dragged him away.

 

What an idiot. A selfless idiot. But an idiot no less.

 

Cais struggled, screaming at his father the guards marched him up the steps. “You can’t! You’ll kill her!”

 

Great. So I wasn’t the only one sure of my imminent demise.

 

I flinched as the door slammed behind the Cais and the guards, cutting off his pleas.

 

Matisse looked to the remaining guards. “Tie her to the post.”

 

A shiver went down my spine as Matisse shifted his attention back to me, tossing me a sadistic smile.

 

I trembled as the guards grabbed me roughly, shoving my body painfully up against the wooden pole centered in the room. They forced me into a kneeling position and shoved my arms around the splintering pole tying my wrists to a metal loop far up the pole. That way I would stay upright when my body gave up. My body shook with adrenaline and fear and I looked around for something in the empty room to focus my attention on rather than wondering how long Matisse would drag out my death.

I followed the plain tile pattern to a nearby drain on the floor. I furrowed my brow. What was that drain for? Then my eyes caught on the faint stream of rust colored stain that led to it. Oh.

 

I quickly looked up to the doors that Cais had disappeared behind instead.

 

I didn’t hear Matisse move to position himself behind me, just the thundering clap of the whip cutting through my shirt and hitting my flesh. I didn’t feel it at first either. Shock shielded me from the pain for one burning confused moment before the pain hit.