Angel's POV
The guard's smile was the kind that promised pain - the kind that said he'd watched this scene play out a hundred times before and never once felt a shred of pity.
"Come along now," he said, reaching for my arm. "Master's waiting, and he doesn't like to be kept waiting."
I pressed myself harder against the stone wall, as if I could somehow merge with it, become part of it, disappear into it. "Please," I whispered. "Please don't do this."
The second guard laughed harshly, an ugly sound that echoed off the dungeon walls. "They always beg. Every single one of them."
"Makes no difference though, does it?" the first guard replied, his fingers closing around my wrist like an iron shackle. "Master gets what Master wants."
"No!" I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, bruising me. "Please, I'll do anything else! I'll work in the kitchens, I'll scrub floors, I'll…"
"You'll do exactly what you were bought for," he interrupted, yanking me to my feet so hard I stumbled. "Now move."
They began dragging me out of the cell, and I fought them. God help me, I fought them with everything I had left. I dug my heels into the ground, making myself as heavy as possible, using my weight - the weight everyone had always mocked me for - as a weapon.
"Bloody hell, she's strong for a fat girl," the second guard grunted, grabbing my other arm.
"Stop fighting!" the first one snarled, shaking me so violently my teeth rattled. "You're only making this worse for yourself!"
But I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. My feet scraped against the stone floor as they hauled me forward, leaving marks in the grime. My shoulders screamed in protest as they pulled me between them like a reluctant animal being led to slaughter.
"Please!" I sobbed, my voice breaking. "Please, I don't want to die this way!"
"Who said anything about dying?" the second guard laughed. "Master Hawkins knows how to keep his toys alive. You'll wish you were dead, maybe, but you'll live."
The words sent ice through my veins. To live through what was coming - to survive it and have to wake up the next day and the day after that, to exist in a body that had been violated, broken, used…
No. No, I won't.
We were climbing the stairs now, moving up from the dungeon's depths toward the main house. The corridor grew warmer, better lit. I could smell cooking food from somewhere, hear the distant murmur of servants going about their evening duties.
Normal sounds. Normal smells. As if the world wasn't ending.
As if I wasn't being dragged to my destruction.
My family is dead, I thought desperately. Everyone I ever loved is gone. Why am I still here? Why did I survive when they didn't?
Perhaps this was my punishment. Perhaps God was punishing me for not being there, for choosing the convent over my family, for being selfish enough to want a life of my own instead of…
The guard on my right adjusted his grip, and I felt it.
The blade.
Hanging from his belt in a leather sheath, the handle within reach of my trembling fingers.
My heart began to pound so hard I thought they must hear it. This was it. This was the answer. I wouldn't let Hawkins touch me. I wouldn't give him that victory. I would leave this world on my own terms, join my family in whatever came after, and finally - finally - be free.
Forgive me, God. Forgive me, Mother Superior. But I can't. I can't do what he wants.
The guard was focused on hauling me forward, not paying attention to where his weapons were. His companion was complaining about how much longer this was taking than it should.
I had one chance.
With a burst of strength I didn't know I possessed, I wrenched my right arm free and grabbed the blade. My fingers closed around the leather-wrapped handle, and I pulled it free of its sheath with a metallic shing that seemed to fill the corridor.
"Hey! What the…"
I didn't let him finish. I pressed the cold steel against my throat, feeling the sharp edge kiss my skin. One quick motion. That's all it would take. One slice and I'd be with Mama, with Papa, with Agnes and little Elijah. No more pain. No more shame. No more Hawkins.
"Angel, no!" one of the guards shouted, reaching for me.
"Stay back!" I screamed, pressing the blade harder. I felt it break skin, felt the warm trickle of blood begin to slide down my neck. "Stay back or I swear to God I'll do it!"
They both froze, their eyes wide with panic. Not because they cared about me - I knew that. But because I was their master's property, and Hawkins will have their heads if I'm dead.
"Put the blade down," the first guard said slowly, holding up his hands as if calming a spooked horse. "Just put it down and we can forget this happened."
"Forget?" I laughed, and it came out half-sob, half-shriek. "How do I forget? How do I forget that my family is dead? That I was sold like cattle? That he… that he's going to…"
My hand began to shake. The blade trembled against my throat.
Do it. Do it now. Before you lose your nerve.
I thought of Mother Superior's kind face. I thought of the church bells ringing on what should have been the happiest day of my life. I thought of my mother's letters, always signed "With all my love."
I'm sorry, Mama. I'm so sorry.
I began to pull the blade across my throat…
They moved with speed.
The first guard slammed into me from the left, his shoulder catching me in the ribs and knocking the air from my lungs. The second grabbed my wrist, twisting it viciously until my fingers went numb and the blade clattered to the floor.
"NO!" I screamed, fighting like a wild thing, kicking and clawing and biting. "Let me go! Let me die! Please, please let me die!"
But they held me fast, pinning my arms behind my back with brutality. I felt blood trickling down my neck where the blade had scratched the surface.
"Stupid bitch," the first guard panted, grabbing his blade from where it had fallen. "You almost cost us our lives. Master Hawkins doesn't take kindly to damaged goods."
"Should have let her do it," the second muttered. "She deserves it for causing us so much trouble."