I don’t know where I am as Shane throws me over his shoulder and carries me back to the castle on top of the mountain. I know where my body is, but my soul is far off. I wish I could say it’s wandering after Tim, the man I pledged my love and life to. The man who died because I couldn’t keep it in my pants.
But it’s not.
It’s mourning everything I thought Shane and I could be. I hate to admit it even now that I see who he is and what he’s capable of, but in these last weeks, he had convinced me we could have a life together—one where I’m wanted and needed, lusted after deeply, and cherished. The loss of that dream cuts so deep that my bleeding soul hurts more than my numerous new wounds. A bird cries overhead, and I wonder if it’s mistaken me for a carrion.
Shane’s arm bands around my knees. I’m his prize, and even if a crow or something were big enough to take me, he wouldn’t let me go. I lie draped over his back, and he doesn’t bother stabilizing me. As a result, my face smacks against him with each step up the incline.
Shane’s boots crunch and his breaths are labored, but he doesn’t make a sound. Blood rushes to my head, and my eyes and fingertips feel about to explode. I wonder if he would warn me if I became too heavy and he needed to drop me. I’d smash my face on the rocks and roll down the whole way. It might kill me, but it might not, and the unknown keeps me from attempting to fight.
I also wonder if he hates me now, and that thought crushes me. Why does it hurt so much? Why do I want this man to love me even when I know what he’s done? I’ve been crying since I learned he killed Tim, but my sobs come louder, bouncing off the unforgiving stone.
He says nothing to soothe me. Instead, he holds me tight and drags me up the mountain. My sobs and his labored steps are the only sounds we hear upon our return. They bounce off the stairs leading to the front door and echo in the giant entryway. When he closes the door behind us, I yelp. There’s finality in that action, and my entrapment hurts like physical pain. I know that I’ll never be able to get out of here in my current state.
I try to accept the fact that this is my life now. While I’m heartbroken over Tim and angry about what Shane did to me, I don’t have the correct level of reluctance. Part of me still believes I might love it in this mountaintop castle, provided he doesn’t kill me. I’m angry about being demeaned, debased, and used, but I fucking loved it. I hate myself more than I could ever hate Shane, and maybe that’s why I can’t muster the proper outrage.
Or maybe you think Tim deserved to die for what he did to you.
I nearly puke at the thought.
Still, that naïve person expects Shane to take me back to the room I’ve stayed in, the plush place full of pillows and books, looking out over a picturesque valley, clawfoot tub, and everything. He has consistently spoiled me, and even if he plans to kill me once we’re there, I expect him to take me back. So, when he goes left toward a wing I’ve never seen, I kick and claw, trying my hardest to escape. This could be so much worse than death.
He opens a door, and I’m shaking with how cold it is. The air smells different than the rest of the house, and I’m curious if there’s even heat. His hand finds the switch, illuminating the long old hallway with a pale yellow light. The walls are painted in a thick Robin’s egg blue, fading and yellowing in places. My vision blurs around the edges from the pressure on my eyes, but I need to see as much as I can of where he’s taking me.
Looking around at the much smaller halls and doorways, I can only conclude he’s brought me to the servants’ quarters. I’m terrified this is where the staff Pax said he dismissed actually lives. Shane confirms my suspicions about the servants’ quarters when he opens a door and tosses me onto a threadbare single bed. I bounce off the mattress, which is so hard it can barely be called such. My fingers encounter scratchy wool with a thick, grimy coating.
He pulls a cord, and a single bulb flashes overhead. The room is a horrid green and dusty. There’s a window, which I didn’t expect, revealing a sliver of light above the ground. Of course no one could fit through it anyway, but it’s nailed shut to ensure you can’t breathe. The nails are rusty, and I silently thank God it’s been a long time since people have stayed here.
You are people, Seraphina.
Shane drops to his knees before me, his fine dress pants smudging the dirt and dust on the floor. Scooting back from him, I encounter the wall before I get far. He snatches my more injured foot and pulls, dropping me onto my back so he can inspect the wound. Instead of letting him, I fight, kicking him as hard as possible. My foot connects with his nose, and I hear a crunch before I wail in agony.
Oh shit, oh fuck.
I regret my decision immediately, but not because I’m in horrible pain. I hate myself for hurting Shane. I hate myself for striking out against the only person I need. Jesus Christ, I fucking love him.
Blood drips from his nose, over his lips, and down his chin. His tongue darts out and licks away the trail on his lower lip, and I stop fighting. Our breaths are the only noise between us as I figure out where I got that idea. Why do I need Shane after such a short time? Why do I love him?
The answer rings in my head, clear as a bell.
Hypnosis.
With that one word, everything left of me breaks. The eyes I thought would drown me have finally succeeded, and I slump against the bed. All vestiges of my fight leave me as surely as Tim lost his life.
“None of it was real,” I whisper, and if I thought Shane looked mad because I broke his nose, I was wrong.
That single stream of blood continues to trickle as he looks at me like I am dirt beneath his shoes. His blue eyes are blackening already, and their pain threatens to swallow me in their depths and erase even the memory of my existence.
“It was all real.”
“You hypnotized me.”
“And you remember every single session, Seraphina. I didn’t erase your memories; you’re not a goddamn puppet! Whether you want to think about what we did together is up to you, but you don’t have amnesia. And the hypnosis didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t already want.”
Shane watches my face. Maybe he wants me to respond or thinks he can read the thoughts out of my head. Whatever he sees there doesn’t satisfy him. Shane pushes off the ground, and I flinch as he reaches for me. He smiles as he grabs the tattered silk shift still covering me even after everything. Sure he’s going to hurt me, instead, he wipes the blood from his lip off on the crusted fabric. Once his lips are slightly cleaner, he gently presses them to mine.
Despite my best intentions, I meet his tongue when he licks his way into my mouth.
“For now, let the pain in your ass remind you what will happen if you try to leave me again. I’ll be back to clean your feet as soon as you let me.” He points at the camera in the corner, and I notice the red light blinking at me for the first time. He stands and turns, closing my cell door and leaving me without another word.
I look at the wounds on my feet. They’re jagged, filthy, and awful—I’ll die before I let Shane clean them.
