The Island

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Tillie

Extra chains were added, I was stuck in the center of the room, on my knees, chains holding my arms out to either side of me, my neck chain taunts from where it was attached to the wall behind me, holding me up. My wings were chained closed, and they ached to stretch.

The corpse was starting to rot.

They were taunting me, her fair skin covered in hand-shaped bruises. She was covered in piss, mud, and dried white liquid. I threw up when I woke up, threw up again when I realized what Mark had planned when he found everybody who had helped me.

Zoie didn't come in. I didn't know what hurt more, the longing for her, or the chains cutting my skin.

They brought in the tools the next day. Sharp crooked ones that I knew would leave scars as if the ones I already had weren't enough.

They brought water with them, cold to the point where it bit into my skin. It reminded me of flying with Zain, how his wings froze the rain, how before I'd gotten wings, it was almost unbearable for me to fly in his arms. They used it to wake me up. I snapped up when the door creaked, dreading the thought of Mark.

I was surprised when Zoie came in. Using the shadows to cover my eyes, when she uncovered them, the corpse was gone.

I felt the flat end of a cold blade drag down my arm.

The chains rattled as I jolted away, only to stay in the same space.

"You can't escape now, Tillie" Mark whispered in my ear, taking off my gag, "and I want to hear you scream."

He applied pressure to the blade, piercing the skin on my shoulder, pulling down my back.

I grunted but refused to scream.

I didn't scream when Ian cut me.

I wouldn't scream now.

I felt my blood drip down to the floor, but I still didn't scream. Mark went over the scar from Ian, reopening the cut. Maybe it was Zoie watching, or the fact that he held my head as he opened the scars on my face, but the tears started falling, stinging the open cuts.

I focused on Zoie, not taking my eyes off her0 as Mark brought out a leather strip with a metal barb on the end. He walked in a circle around me, stopping at my back. I felt the cold air bite into my back as he tore my shirt. I heard the crack of a whip before he brought it down.

It stung.

But I didn't scream.

One.

I grunted, tears dripping off my chin.

Two.

The scream burned my throat.

Three.

I gave in to the pain, roaring as he brought it down.

He kept whipping my back. Until my vision blurred and I lay limp against my chains, he finally put the leather down. I knew he didn't hit my wings, but I could feel the blood coating them and my back.

I saw him leave the room, I saw Zoie follow him, I wished she stayed, but the gag was back on, I couldn't cry out to her.

The world faded, my back surely in ribbons, my arm slowing it's bleeding.

I didn't know it, but the dull buzzing in my ears was my power, not the pain.

They fed me less than before, Zoie only came in when Mark did, and Mark only came in to make me scream.

So I screamed.

He would leave when my voice was hoarse. Until then, he brought out the whip or a new knife. The buzzing was slowly getting louder until it turned to dull roaring. A knot was forming in my stomach, all I wanted was for it to unravel.

Zoie came to visit one day, but she didn't take off the gag, she didn't take off any chains.

My latest session with Mark had left me with blood dripping down my eye, I could barely see as she picked up the ice bucket and dumped it over my head, washing off the blood and tears.

"The Shadows are talking, they're coming for you. Whoever they are."

I grunted her name though the gag as she sat on her knees.

"I don't want them to take you. You said that I'm yours. You're mine," She looked sad at the idea of me leaving. I was sopping wet, but I wasn't cold. What made me shiver was the tendrils of shadows brushing against the rare bits of skin that weren't torn and the way Zoie stroked my wings. I moaned her name through the gag, coaxing her to take the damn thing off.

She didn't.

"They don't get you. They don't get to take you away from me." I pulled from where she dragged a finger along with the gag, glaring at her. This wasn't my Zoie. I tried to talk through the gag, but nothing made sense. I looked down at my mouth, trying to explain.

"I'm not taking off the gag," she whispered, standing, "You don't get to talk me out of it."

She left, and I was alone in the dark, my entire body aching. I felt it more than I saw it, the burning sensation at my feet, the smell of burning flesh. I just prayed Kirklyn and the others would find me soon. Before it was my ashes they find.