LightReader

Chapter 32 - Chapter 31: The Torture Room

Clara

The water in the bathtub, though still, is disturbed only by the faintest of ripples, shifting slightly with each shallow breath we take as blood drips down from our wrists.

I glance towards the girl infront of me, leaning against the edge of the tub on the opposite side.

Her bloodshot eyes, quivering lip, and thin dark hair clinging to her back as she waits for the sweet embrace of death. She looks young than me.

How lonely and scared she must have felt.

I concentrate, trying to, once again, control the outcome of the dream.

Then, there's a sudden pressure. I can't breathe. My chest constricts as if invisible hands are squeezing the air from my lungs. Panic surges through me like a jolt of electricity, forcing my eyes open. The nightmare shatters, but the terror remains.

I'm staring up at a ceiling mottled with dark patches of mold, spreading like ink stains against the yellowing paint. Four light bulbs burn the light into my eyes while the air is thick with the scent of rust.

A rough hand that had been covering my mouth and nose moves away, and I gasp, sucking in a desperate, shuddering breath. But the relief is fleeting when I try to sit up, to move any part of my body. Thick leather straps dig into my skin, binding me to the cold metal table underneath.

To my left, on another table, A bloodied man lies. His legs have been severed at the thighs, raw stumps jutting out, blood coating the metal beneath him. Deep gashes slash across his bare chest and face, and dark blood trickles from his closed eyes. His hands are missing all but one twitching little finger, indicating that he's still alive.

Panic clamps down on my heart. I snap my eyes shut and turn away, bile rising in my throat.

"Are you a sleepwalker?"

The words slither through the air, and I freeze. I try to lift my head, turning toward the voice, but the restraint across my forehead keeps me in place. All I can do is shift my eyes, watching Everley step into view, holding sharp bloody pliers.

Her lips curl at the corners while her eyes gleam with curiosity, studying me like an animal pinned beneath glass.

"You kept trying to move and pull even when asleep," she remarks, tossing the tool to a long metal table that stands against the wall next to a door that looms on the far side of the room. It is cluttered with an array of tools.

She settles on a chair as if she's enjoying the show. Like she has all the time in the world to watch me struggle.

"What do you want?" I ask, glaring at her.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she finally says. "But believe me, I have more."

Her smirk deepens when she leans forward. "With that ugly wig removed, you're very pretty, aren't you?...Clara Austin."

The way she says my name sends a jolt of ice through my veins. I can't show fear. Not now.

"So you want to hand me back to my family?" I ask, forcing steel into my voice.

She chuckles, shaking her head. "Heavens no. I don't care the least about your family matters."

Her gaze sharpens, locking onto mine like a predator that's found something far more interesting. "I'm more interested in you. And that boy."

My body betrays me, jerking instantly at the mention of him.

She sees it. Satisfaction flickering in her eyes like a spark catching fire. "Relax. He's fine. For now."

If she so much as touches him, I'm going to do something far worse to her than what she did to this man next to me.

"But it all depends on you." she says, reaching down to the small table beside her. The dim, flickering light catches on the object as she lifts it—a knife.

My pulse stutters.

"I knew from the moment the girls asked me what I was talking about when I mentioned the gems stuck to your chests."

She gets up and walks closer, the knife glinting between her fingers as she casually twirls it.

"No one could see it. And I realized, you might be one of us." she adds, stepping even closer.

"P-please."

We both turn toward the man's faint voice as he gathers the last of his strength.

"Please… let my son go," he croaks.

Everley pauses mid-step, tilting her head as though his plea were nothing more than a gnat buzzing near her ear. He tries again, his voice cracking. Desperation clings to each word. "He's just a—"

"Sorry about him." Everley cuts in with an almost sheepish smile. "I was a bit preoccupied with my previous guest."

Then she turns back around, lifts the knife, raising it high into the air. "Stop!" I scream, heart lurching into my throat as the knife plunges down into the man's chest. His body arches, and he coughs weakly, red dribbling down his chin until he goes still.

"Why…?" I whisper. "Who was he?"

Everley slowly withdraws the knife and wipes it clean with an already dirty cloth. "Someone who was supposed to be dead," she answers nonchalantly. "But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun before getting to that point."

Something in me shifts.

A black, seething tide crashes through my chest, flooding every vein with molten fury. My hands trembling against the leather restraints, wanting desperately to reach out and choke the life out of her.

"Now, where were we," She steps towards me. The blade's tip presses lightly against my collarbone.

I flinch, but Everley doesn't stop. With agonizing slowness, she drags the knife downward, the tip grazing my skin. Since she unbuttoned my shirt, the blade moved ahead and stoped at the gem. She taps it twice, causing the vibration to echo inside me.

"I suggest you start telling me all about this little thing. And how you knew about my dagger in the office."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I snap, forcing my eyes from the corpse. "I told you. The dagger just looked like it'd fetch good money."

She scoffs. "Oh please, even a toddler could tell it's trash. And how much of a fool do you take me for?" She walks over to the chair and sits back down. "You knew that dagger had magic in it. That's what confuses me. How can an ordinary person know what these particular objects can do? You're not even affiliated with the organization."

I don't know what expression I'm making, but after a few quiet seconds, She looks at me, surprised. "You have no idea...huh?" She leans forward. "Then how the hell did you know about the dagger? Did someone tell you?"

I take a shallow breath. I need something convincing. Something simple enough that she won't pick apart the details.

"We heard about it from a guy." I say, making my voice hesitant, like I'm trying to recall. "Some drifter. He said it was beautiful. One of a kind. That it had… powers."

Her gaze sharpens. "What guy?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. I think his name was Justin."

"And you trusted him?" Her tone is skeptical, but there's a flicker of intrigue beneath it.

"No," I say quickly, "but he seemed—" I pause, searching for the right word, "Obsessed. Kept going on about how it was special. I figured he was just a collector."

Everley watches me closely, as if weighing my every word. "And what did he want?"

I hesitate just long enough to seem uncertain. "I…I don't know. He never told us."

Everley's expression hardens. "And the gems?" she asks. "What are they? How do they fit into all this?"

This is it. I have to come up with something that'll make her leave Alister alone. If I fail, she'll dig deeper, and then we'll both be in even bigger trouble.

An idea comes to mind. But it all depends on one person.

I take a slow breath and force my voice to sound confident. "The gems... they're part of a connection. Think of it like a master and servant bond."

Everley raises an eyebrow. "Master and servant?" she repeats, the word tasting strange on her lips.

"Yes." I answer, keeping my voice steady. "I'm the master. I have the ability to control Alister. Make him do whatever I want and say whatever I want. Like a puppet."

After a long pause, she chuckles. "That's interesting. And yet, you don't seem to be using it. Why not make your little pet break free and come rescue you?"

I force a bitter smile. "Because I need to be close to him for that."

She hums thoughtfully. "And what if you die?"

That's a trick question.

I shrug as best as I can with the straps cutting into my shoulders. "I don't know about that."

She watches me for a long, agonizing moment. Then she gets up again and walks upto me. "If this thing connects you two." she says lightly. "What happens if I take it out?"

Cold terror grips me. "You can't. It—it can't be removed."

Her eyes flash, widening ever so slightly before a grin spreads across her face. "You're literal bounded ones, aren't you? Perfect." She muses, her voice dripping with amusement. "Now let's test your theory."

I feel my stomach drop as she presses the blade against the skin at the edge of the gem. A sharp, hot pain erupts instantly, burning as the blade sinks in. It's like fire rushing through my veins, and my whole body jerks against the restraints. The cut is shallow, but the sting flares beneath the gem, followed almost immediately by the warmth of blood trickling down my ribs, soaking into the white fabric of my shirt.

"Wait!" I choke out. But Everley doesn't stop. Just digs the blade deeper.

I grit my teeth hard enough to make my jaw ache, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream.

No...I can't die. Not when I've just gotten my freedom. Not when I've still got my friends to save. Not when I have a future I'm looking forward to.

"It'll lose its power!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

She pauses, watching me with interest.

"If you take it out, I'll die, and it becomes powerless. Both of them." I gasp. "It'll be nothing—just a useless rock!"

Please believe me.

"One of those, huh?" She sighs and steps back. She smiles like she caught me in some game I didn't know I was playing.

"See, this is why I believe pain is the best way to make people talk and spill the truth." Her fingers lift my hair gently between her fingertips, as if she were inspecting something. I want to spit and tell her to keep her hands off, but I clamp my mouth shut.

"You're smart." Her voice breaks through the silence. "Smart enough to lie. But not enough to fool me."

"It's the truth!" I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be.

"That I believe." Everley lets go of my hair. "But how do you know that?"

The moment the question leaves her lips, a sharp, suffocating weight settles on my chest. I've messed up. My fingers twitch against the restraints. A cold sweat clings to my skin. I know she sees it.

"You said it so certainly," she muses. "Not a guess. You knew."

I have to get out of here. Fast.

"How'd you even get the gems? And how do you know you'll die if they're removed? And that dagger. No way I believe whatever story you spun. Where are you getting all this information from?" She gestures towards the dead man on the table. "I have many ways to make you sing if you don't answer my questions."

I swallow hard. My mind is a whirlwind of possibilities, each one worse than the last. I can't tell her about the book or Leora. She'd kill me for sure just to have it. Or worse, she'd go after Alister and the others.

I force myself to scoff. "Obviously, I know I'll die if I pull it out. It's attached to my chest, isn't it? If it could come off safely, don't you think I would've ripped it out by now? And why do you think I lie about your dagger?"

Everley hums thoughtfully, rolling her knife between her fingers. "People say all kinds of things when they're desperate." She steps closer, her voice dipping into something almost gentle. Almost mocking. "And you do seem very desperate."

I grit my teeth.

I can't let her break me. She's testing me. If I double down, she'll call my bluff. If I backpedal, she'll know for sure I lied.

Either way, I lose.

More Chapters