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Darla, which I doubted was her real name, dropped her head, bowing down and obeying the creep.
Cat’s lock released, and he put his giant hands inside her cage.
“Let her go,” he demanded.
Cat’s fingers untwined from the dead child next to her.
“If only you listened that well yesterday, you wouldn’t have all these ugly bruises and scabs today.”
His dirty nail hooked into what looked to be a cigar burn on her chest, and he flicked it from her skin.
A drop of blood ran between her breasts, which looked nothing like I remembered them, and I remembered every perfect detail.
Now, they were misshapen and uneven in size and position.
I gritted my teeth, my eyes still focusing on her healed scars. I felt like Cat was doing the same as Plaid Shirt’s ugly smile became unavoidable.
She proved me wrong, taking a deep breath, and I did, too, determined to hold back the feelings of disgust swirling inside me.
He stabbed his finger—and that jagged nail in need of cutting—into another cigar burn, fresh and marring her sternum.
He created enough blood to write out the word ugly, and it stood over a permanent silver scar that branded her a slut.
“Are you sorry now?” he asked in a voice draped in false sympathy that had my nostrils flaring and sucking in air quicker in an effort to keep calm. My nose twitched over the sweet, earthy scents filling the tiny closet.
I ignored old desires as they came to life, noticing the peculiar-looking plant that had been stuffed in the corner of this cramped space.
I breathed through my mouth, which helped more with my anger but only slightly.
Cat tensed, waiting for the next injury when he laughed in her face, but her breathing remained perfectly controlled as mine eradicated.
My fingers wrapped around the door handle, and a light squeak called her attention and Plaid Shirt’s.
“I’m sorry,” she spat out her words, and her delicate and raspy voice sounded like music to my ears—a low hum of a tragic melody that managed to calm me.
I froze, watching from the shadows as his attention moved back to her.
“I’m sure you are, Aribella. I’m sure you are.”
Brutal fingers pulled her from the cage by jabbing into already bruised breasts and pulling her out with physical violence he never showed the other girls.
Now, with her teeth gritted, she hushed a mewl.
My jaw clenched, my molars grinding so hard I’d need dental work if my teeth didn’t turn to dust.
Cat’s naked body was nothing but scars and bruises, the odd cut and scratch decorating her smaller-than-before curves.
I hated that she’d been butchered. Actually fucking butchered. And it twisted something inside me, pushing around all the feelings I’d tried to bury, bringing them to the surface.
I wanted out of this fucking room, and I’d have gotten out of this fucking room already, if it wasn’t for the way he watched her. A hunting knife trailed her spine as she moved to join the other girls, waiting and ready for one foot to step out of line.
One tiny blade fell onto another as she plucked it from the table, only to have her skin pricked by the bigger one in her back. “Ah-ah. You forfeited your weapon, remember?”
She nodded, narrowing in on my gaze as my blood boiled with fury.
Seeing her from the side made me realize how different she looked, curling in at the waist from malnutrition.
I couldn’t wait to get her away from here and fucking feed her.
