Page 117

A cold, wet flannel touches my cheek as Melina gently begins to wipe away at the vomit and blood that stains my skin. The guards stand closely beside her, the smell of tomato soup in the air making my stomach growl.

"You know, I always thought you were a smart girl, Amora. That maybe you were different from the whores down in the cells. I thought you were selfless, hell, even brave by the way you fought Vincent. Even stabbing him with the glass." Her voice is soft as she continues to clean my face. "But you aren't, are you? You're as cold as us. You're as evil as the people you fight against. Because who does what you did? Who sends their sister out into the wild with nowhere to go but into the arms of the man who's chained her? I admire it, though, what you'll do to survive. What you'll give to ensure it isn't just you wrapped in those cold metal links."

My heart drops to my stomach. "Let her go," I say through gritted teeth. I forced her out of here and straight into the arms of a monster.

"Stop grinding your teeth, it's not ladylike." She smirks, eyes glinting under the light.

"Fuck you," I spit back.

She stands, a high-pitched laugh falling from her lips. My eyes follow her as she stalks circles around me, fingers playing with my loose, tangled curls.

"Tell me, little dove. Was it your dirty cunt or filthy mouth that appeased my beloved executioner?" Her voice shifts into something darker, something more malevolent. I hold my breath.

Her fingers tangle into my hair, pulling my head back against her chest. "Tell me how he touched you, Amora. Tell me, did he make love to you? Did his mouth shower kisses along your jaw, whispering sweet nothings into your ear about how you're the only woman he'll ever love?"

I swallow. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her fingers tighten, causing me to wince.

"You can tell me, Amora. We're friends, aren't we? Tell me all about how his tongue makes you forget that another man has ever touched you, or how the taste of his kiss makes you feel alive, even when you're drowning in everything else."

"It wasn't—we didn't…" I try to think of a lie that will make her happy, but from the way her eyes scold into mine, I know nothing I say will change anything. She's a woman possessed.

"I remember the days he'd make love to me like that. Where he'd whisper pathetic plans in my ear of the life we'd have when we'd escape. When he'd brush the hair from my face and look at me like I was the only thing in this world that made him feel something." She brushes a loose strand of hair from my face whilst keeping her other hand tightly wrapped around the rest.

"You tried to take him from me. You made him hate me. Your filthy fucking body convinced him that I wasn't worthy of his love anymore," she seethes into my ear. "It wasn't enough taking my brother, you had to have him, too? Didn't you? You fucking whores will open your legs to anyone."

"I didn't do anything. I didn't want this. I don't want this," I whisper through the pain.

"Damon. Scissors," she calls out to the guard who hands her the scissors. My breath catches in my throat.

She begins snipping away at my hair. Cutting strand after strand, tiny pieces falling onto my tear-stained chest as she removes another part of my identity.

It's just hair, I try to talk myself through it. It'll grow back. It's just hair.

She doesn't stop until the only hair left is close to my skull, each part jagged and awful. She moves across the room with ease, slamming the scissors down on the table and picking up the small mirror.

"This is who you are. Ugly. Broken. Unlovable. Fucking worthless." She forces it in my face, and I can't bear to look. I turn my head away.

"Look at yourself!" she screams, the guards now gripping me. Their fingers dig painfully deep into my swollen cheeks. "See for yourself how disgusting you are. See for yourself how you're nothing. You'll never be anything more than a fucking hole to fuck."

I flinch at the sight of my face, my hair cut in all different shapes and angles. Cut close to my scalp, my face swollen. Eyes barely open and lips cut. My skin darker than before as the bruises begin to settle.

The girl in the mirror looks nothing like me.

I hold onto that. That girl looks broken. She looks tortured. But inside, it isn't me. Not yet. I still have some fight left.

She throws the mirror on the floor. "Put the whore back in her box. Let her have some time to think about what she's done."

Their hands are grabbing, but I don't fight them. Placing me back in the box, the lid shuts and I'm slid back under the bed as I let the darkness swallow me whole.

"What was that?" Her voice calls out, but it isn't the same tone as before. There's something different. Something…scared.

The door slams against the wall, more footsteps approaching inside of the room.

"Miss Reigns, we've got word there's a disturbance down in the main lobby. You're to be escorted out."

"Make sure no one comes in this room, got it? No one enters, and no one leaves." Her muffled voice floods through the wood, and I finally let myself breathe.

They've found Rosa. They caught her before we could escape. She might not have said it outright, but through her messed up emotional whiplash, she pretty much admitted it. I try not to think of the punishment she'll receive instead. I begin whispering small little prayers into the silence.