Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Fear overcame me. For Nestore. For myself. For Flavia and the baby. What would happen to us now?
Father stalked toward Nestore and began to kick him hard in the side and the stomach.
“Stop it!” I screamed, taking a step forward to intervene. Father’s hateful gaze hit me as he let up from Nestore and advanced on me. I backed away until the thorns pierced my back.
Father raised his arm and backhanded me across the face. My lip burned fiercely, and the taste of copper coated my tongue. “You traitorous bitch.”
Another slap, even harder, hit my cheek and mouth. My head rang as I went down to my knees, my cheek stinging fiercely. I swallowed spit and blood, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Cruel hands gripped my hair. I clasped his wrists to keep some weight off my scalp, but it still hurt. He dragged me after him, and I had no chance to get on my feet. I was crying from pain and terror by the time we reached the basement.
Two guards tossed an unconscious Nestore into his cell before they locked it. Father held me upright by my hair, his expression brimming with fury and disgust as he peered down at me.
With a snarl, he shoved me toward another cell. I stumbled inside and dropped to my knees. Not wanting to kneel in front of my father, I shoved to my feet and clutched the bars to steady myself and get my bearings. Father locked the door and tossed the keys to the lanky guy by his side with an evil gleam in his eyes. “Bury them in the garden. I won’t need them again.” His cruel gaze hit me. “This will be your tomb, whore. No daughter of mine betrays her own blood to help a gutter rat.”
“Leave her alone,” Nestore growled in a raw voice as he dragged himself to his legs. His body was too weak and battered for this. Fear for him burned through me.
Father’s answering grin turned my blood to ice.
“Unlock the door,” he ordered the older, heavyset man, who didn’t hesitate to open Nestore’s cell.
No. No. No. Nestore had barely survived the last torture session three days ago, and my father looked like he would do worse today.
“Don’t hurt him. You’ll kill him!” I whispered.
Nestore gave me a pained look as if he wanted me to be quiet. Father looked between him and me, and a sadistic gleam filled his eyes. He began to beat Nestore with his fists, then, when Nestore collapsed, he kicked him. It was nothing compared to last time yet—no lighter, no knife, no electroshocks—but my heart couldn’t take it. I cried silently. Nestore was still on the ground, panting, blood trickling out of his mouth as he met my gaze. “It’s okay,” he mouthed.
Father stepped back, his eyes narrowing on me, then he smiled. He walked out and took the water hose that the guards used to clean the cells and the prisoners. “He’s become too adept at bearing pain. Let’s see how good he is at handling yours.”
Before I could react, cold water smashed into me with a force that had me stumbling backward against the wall. I gasped from the freezing cold that bit into my skin like icy fingers. Water filled my mouth and flooded my airways, making me sputter and then gasp. I tried to breathe, but the water jet assaulted my face, cutting off the air. My skin burned from the force of the water. I fell to my knees, choking, my eyes squeezed shut. Pain filled my face. Would any skin be left? It felt as if I was being skinned alive by the water.
My vision swam as I gulped down more water in my desperation to breathe.
Nestore’s terrified roars mixed with the whooshing of the water.
I tumbled to my side, shaking violently in pain and lack of air. Soon, blissful oblivion would grab me. I wanted it. How could Nestore have survived years of torture? I wanted to give up. I wanted to die to end this.
You promised to stay. I fought against unconsciousness, but it snagged at my mind.
The water flow stopped. I sucked in a deep breath but remained curled up on the stone floor. Tremors wracked my bruised body. Who knew water could be this cruel? My face burned with pain, and my body felt battered as if hundreds of fists had rained down on it.
“I see her pain is yours. What a beautiful thing,” Father drawled.
I kept my eyes closed. Now he had another way to torture Nestore, but maybe it was better this way. If I took the torture, Nestore’s body could heal.
“I’ll be back later. She’s too weak.” Steps crunched, and the heavy door fell shut.
“Amelia.”
Nestore’s voice beckoned me to leave the dark, but I felt too fragile to move.