Page 50 of Taint My Soul

I reaffirm in my mind, but my body doesn’t catch up. My mind filters in the darkest of memories. The blood and gunshot. The horror in the eyes of the man I once showed mercy, dead before my feet.

The first time I held the bars of that prison was when I had spared to someone who stole from us. Father had disciplined me. He had kept me in that isolated place for weeks. He had reminded me that he didn’t tolerate weakness, especially from his own children.

We don’t show thieves mercy.

We don’t show weak men mercy.

He’d taken me out of the Red Vault weeks later, then he handed me a gun and asked me to prove my worthiness to the family.

So, I did.

I pulled the trigger.

I put a bullet in his head and watched as blood pooled beneath his unconscious body.

The first man I ever kissed died at my hands. And in those final moments, all I saw was his hatred. Not the gentle way he’d always looked at me. He never forgave me, and I haven’t forgiven myself ever since. That moment had left a scar. Weeks of waking up in nightmares drenched in sweat. Sometimes it was the memory itself. Other times, he held me down in a river of blood, drowning me repeatedly. Relentlessly.

But even with years of burying those memories, of locking them away, it clawed its way out of the darkness.

Again.

I tap my feet on the floor, short, shallow breaths splitting through my lungs.

I focus on getting out of here.

It’s only an hour. Maybe, a few more minutes.

He’s kept me prisoner in the Red Vault for months. I can survive just an hour here.

The walls feel closer than they should, like the metal itself is leaning in to taste my fear. The ceiling feels lower, almost pressing down on me. My heart slams against my ribs, loud enough that I can hear it. I grit my teeth as the air thickens. My lungs strain. I turn around and put my hand against the wall to steady myself. But still, my mind races with so many thoughts.

I think of Mason.

His eyes. His smile.

I’m not supposed to think of him, but I do, and he grounds me a little. My hands shake against the wall. “I don’t ever let this happen.” My voice comes out in short, broken gasps, too quiet for Mason to hear.

“Saint.” The sound of his voice pulls me out of the vortex that’s swallowing me into an unending darkness.

But only for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He steps closer, and I flinch, chest heaving as I put some distance between us.

I don’t need him.

I won’t ever need a man who’s supposed to be a contract.

I don’t need anyone.

My briefcase slips from my hand and crashes with a thud on the floor. I move away from him, rubbing my hand across my temple and shaking my head. “I’m… I’m fine.” I bring down my trembling hand and ball it into a fist.

I bring my hand against the steel wall and bang repeatedly. “I need to get out of here.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Beside me, Mason tries to put his hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.

“I make sure this never happens. I make sure everything works perfectly.” I press my palm to the nearest surface, fingers splayed, desperate for something solid to anchor me, but it’s not enough.

“We’ll be out here before you know it.” He says. But it doesn’t make me feel any better. The air thickens, sharp as a blade. The walls warp in my vision, and I shut my eyes. “Saint, let me hold you.”