Damned and Desolate

by S D Hegyes

  Thinking of her mother reminded her of how late it was. She hugged Abaddon, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

  “Goodbye, Abaddon,” she whispered against his mouth.

  “Goodbye, Sorsha.” He pulled away and gave her one last look of longing. Her hand remained in his until he stood with his back to the stone wall, in almost the exact same place she’d first seen him.

  She watched as he melted into the shadows.

  She mourned his absence only once she was sure he was gone. Tears trailed down her cheeks. She’d finally met someone she could relate to, someone who didn’t call her a freak, who accepted her as she was, and he’d left. Forever.

  20

  It wasn’t all that late when Sorsha got home, but she knew she’d be in trouble. That had been a given the moment Preston and Bobby saw her at the fair. It wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed to go to the fair. Only that she hadn’t gone with other Shaded Glade members her age. Then she'd hung out with someone who wasn’t from Shaded Glade.

  When she walked in, she wasn’t surprised Preston was sitting on the couch, talking to her father. They didn’t look up as she entered though, allowing her to strip off her jacket and kick off her boots.

  She glanced at them as she walked past and went straight to her room, wondering why neither said anything to her. They both saw her, she knew, because their gaze followed her trek down the hall. Neither said anything though.

  Odd.

  Sorsha didn’t realize Preston had followed her down the hall until her door closed behind her. He hadn’t said anything and she hadn’t heard his footsteps on the carpet.

  “Who was that you were hanging out with at the fair, Sorsha?” He reached for her, but she spun away from him.

  “It’s none of your business who I hang out with, Preston. We’re not married.”

  His eyes flashed with anger and she watched his hands curl into fists. “We will be. We're engaged.”

  “But we’re not married yet, and I will hang out with who I want to until we are.” No reason to tell him she was still trying to figure out a way to prevent that from happening at all. She walked to her door and opened it. “My father has a rule. This stays open.”

  He gave her a smirk. “So, you want your parents to hear what we’re doing?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “We’re not doing anything, and we’re not going to. I don’t know why you can’t seem to understand me when I say I’m not interested, but somehow, you don’t. I wonder if it’s because of the cotton in your ears or stupidity.” She tapped at her lip, pretending to think about it.

  Preston growled at her. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

  “Clever girl,” she replied, quoting a movie. “No. Not really. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. So why don’t you drop the act and tell me what you want?”

  His lip curled up. “Oh, Sorsha.” He shook his head back and forth. “You already know what I want. It’s what I’ve wanted all along. It’s why I even agreed to this whole charade.”

  “Let me guess—” She held up her hand to cut him off before he could even begin. “You want to dominate me and be the one to—” She raised her hands and did air quotes with her fingers. “—tame me, is that it?”

  He sneered. “Why else would I want to marry you, Freak?”

  After all the years, it still stung when someone called her a freak to her face. She felt the pain in her chest and tried to ignore it, but the sting remained.

  She knew it was why she enjoyed being around Abaddon. No one in the community would ever accept her as she was. She would have to change for them all. Abaddon? He not only accepted her, but encouraged her to be different. Welcomed it, even.

  “Why marry me at all?”

  At that, Preston scoffed. “Like I had a choice? Your father paid a lot of money to have you married off.”

  The second sting hurt more. She’d told Abaddon her father would have to pay someone to get them to marry her, but she hadn’t believed he would.

  Great. No one in Shaded Glade wanted her either. Not without a price tag it seemed.

  “How much?” She clenched her hands into fists. She didn’t really want to know how much she’d been sold for. The thought alone made her sick to her stomach.

  Preston, who’d been lost in his own thoughts, looked at her. “What? Why do you care?”

  “I want to know.” She lied. “How much?”

  He sneered at her again. It seemed to be all he could do around her. Was she that disgusting to him? Was she that horrible? Maybe.

  “Twenty grand.”

  What? She coughed, choking on her own spittle as she replayed his words in her head. Twenty grand? Twenty. Thousand. Dollars. No way. There was no way. Her father didn’t have twenty thousand dollars to pay someone for her.

  “In cash?”

  The young man nodded, a grin on his face as he saw Sorsha’s shock. “Twenty thousand dollars. In cash.”

  She blinked a couple of times and then shrugged. “Nice to know how much I’m worth. I’m betting you and your father are just rolling in the cash right now.”

  At her words, his grin fell away and his jaw tightened. “Shut up, Freak.”

  “Why? You’re the one with the big bucks now, aren’t you?” As he ground his teeth, she realized why she’d upset him. “Oh! You aren’t, are you? Daddy won’t share?” She pouted and pretended to rub at her eyes with her hands. “How sad? Daddy won’t share the money and you’re forced to marry me—the Freak of Shaded Glade.”

  She paused and tilted her head to the side, thinking. “The Freak of Shaded Glade. Huh. I like it.” She turned back to Preston who was clenching his hands into fists. “I could make a fortune off it. You know, like a psychic?”

  He growled, and his eyes started twitching.

  “So, since my father had to pay your father for you to take me off his hands, does that money go to your father or does it go to Shaded Glade?” Sorsha knew that amount of money wouldn’t have gone to Shaded Glade like it was supposed to. If it had, Preston wouldn’t have been as upset, Sorsha was sure.

  It made her smile to know that the most devout of the Shaded Glade folks could be callous and greedy as well. He wouldn’t tell anyone he’d been paid to take Sorsha off her father’s hands.

  “So, your father isn’t so righteous after all. What’s he going to do with the money, hmm, Preston? Is he going to buy a new car with it? Is he going to build a new church? A new home? What’s his plan now?”

  She found the whole situation funny. Terribly so. She shouldn’t laugh, but she couldn’t help it. The more she thought about it, the funnier it got.

  “Stop it!” Preston snarled at her.

  “No. It’s hilarious.” The laughter bubbled out of her in big guffaws. “You and your father pretend to be saints, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

  She stopped paying attention to Preston as she fell to the floor, clutching her sides to help with the pain that rippled through her with each breath she took. Her face hurt from smiling so much and her stomach cramped with the force of her laughter.

  Pain rippled through her head, neck and shoulders as Preston grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up.

  “Shut up!” He snarled at her, spittle spraying from his mouth. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. “Shut up, Freak. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about me or my father. You refuse to learn anything about this community. You mock us, pretend you’re better than us. In the end, you’re nothing. Nothing but a freak. If I had my way, no one would find anything but your carcass.” He grinned then, a mad grin that chilled Sorsha to her bones.

  She grabbed at his wrist, trying to get him to release her and simultaneously trying to lift herself closer to his hand to relieve the pain shooting through her scalp. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out. It was what he was waiting for, she knew. Her pain. He relished in causing her misery. Silent tears stream
ed down her face as she struggled in his hold.

  “You and I are getting married, Sorsha,” he told her with an air of foreboding she didn’t like. “And once we’re married, if you don’t quit these games you play, I will kill you.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile.

  “And you know the best part?” He didn’t wait for her to answer as he dragged her toward her bed and tossed her at it. “The best part is no one will question it. Everyone in this community knows I’ll tell them the truth. They’ll never suspect me of killing you. Especially when I reveal you’ve been cutting yourself to try to end your… affliction.”

  Dread rippled through her, and she glanced back at him to see a knife in his hand. He strode toward her with long confident strides, pausing at the door to close it once more, turning the knob to lock it, watching Sorsha as he did so.

  “Like I said, we don’t want your parents to hear what we’re doing now, do we?” He gave her a dark grin and continued toward her.

  “Preston?” She hated that her voice trembled. Her eyes zeroed in on the knife in his hand, which was closer to a dagger in length. “What are you doing?”

  “What someone should have done to you a long time ago.” He struck like a cobra, and she didn’t even get a chance to dodge him this time. He caught one arm and yanked it around behind her back, pulling up until Sorsha heard a loud pop as the shoulder dislocated in its socket.

  She screamed in pain. Preston wasn’t done though. He shoved her face down on the bed, pinning her free, uninjured arm under her body and climbed on top of her. His knee found the center of her back and pressed down, successfully immobilizing her.

  Sorsha kicked backwards and screamed at him to get off her, but her feet didn’t reach him and her shouts fell on deaf ears.

  Pain shot through her as Preston took her bound arm and sliced her wrist over and over again. She howled in pain each time the dagger slid through her skin in a thin trail and tried to buck Preston off her. He was nearly a hundred pounds heavier than her though. As blood poured from the wounds he caused, she felt herself grow weaker and weaker. She stopped struggling to free herself and her head slumped against the bed.

  Her vision grew blurry as she lay there. Preston slipped off her and her arm fell to the bed. She blinked several times and tried not to pass out. Blood stained her bed spread and she watched it trickle from the slashes in her wrist.

  Preston stood behind her, cleaning the blade off with her bedspread. For some reason, the thought of him wiping the blade on the blanket bothered her more than her blood pouring on it. That thought made her laugh, even though it shouldn’t.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She sneered at Preston. “You’re so weak.” She giggled. “You can’t even kill me proper.”

  He chuckled. Then he leaned down over her, his hands braced on either side of her head as he whispered in her ear, “Who said anything about trying to kill you?”

  He pushed himself off her, and she flopped up and down as his weight made her mattress bounce. She whimpered as pain rippled through her. The arm pinned underneath her had fallen asleep and blood still poured from the arm that also had a dislocated shoulder.

  She blinked back another wave of dizziness. Then she pushed herself to her feet with her uninjured arm, gritting her teeth at the pins and needles feeling.

  “What are you doing?” Preston gave her an incredulous stare. There was a box of bandages in his hand.

  What the hell? He was going to slice her up and then dress her as if he hadn’t done anything wrong? What kind of sick pervert was he?

  Sorsha stumbled, bumping into him and shoving him to the floor. She got up before he could stop her and clutched her wrist to her chest. She had to get out of the house. She had to get away.

  She unlocked her door with her good hand and yanked it open.

  “Sorsha!” Preston whispered loudly behind her.

  She didn’t even glance back at him. Her gaze narrowed until all she saw was her escape. She left a trail of blood behind her, but she ignored it. She had to get out of the house, get away from these people. They were sick.

  They called her sick. They dared to say she was sick with her affliction. Yet, here they were, injuring her and trying to pretend she’d done it to herself. They were selling her to the first person who’d take her so they wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore.

  Funny how history repeated itself and monsters always found her and cut her.

  “Sorsha?” There was a deep-seated fear in her mother’s voice.

  For a moment, Sorsha paused, blinking at the woman who birthed her. Gray eyes met hers. “Why?” It was all she could ask before she stumbled and fell to the floor. Her injured arm banged against the floor and she howled in pain.

  Then she was on her feet and moving again, ignoring the way her father screamed at her, demanding she clean up the mess she was making.

  Power flared through Sorsha, and she felt true strength flow through her. Strong enough to handle her family’s disapproval and disappointment. She rolled her shoulders back and continued for the door.

  When Preston grabbed her arm, his hand wrapped around her sliced wrist. She screamed in pain, and her power lashed out in a circle of red smoke like a sound wave.

  Preston toppled to the floor on his backside, her father’s wheelchair slammed back into the opposite wall. Even her mother lost her footing.

  Sorsha turned around, glaring at the three before her with glowing red eyes. Angry streaks of red smoke pulsed around her whole body in jerking motions.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.” She spat out, glaring at each of them in turn before she returned her attention to the door.

  Her hand slipped off the knob twice before she finally grasped it and twisted it to open. She looked down. Her jacket was in her room, she wasn’t wearing shoes, and snow was falling. This time, it was sticking to the ground, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before there was at least a foot of it on the ground. Not with it snowing so hard.

  “Screw it,” she snarled and slammed the door behind her as she stumbled out into the snow. She didn’t care where she went as long as it was away from there. She couldn’t handle anymore of her family torturing her for being who she was naturally.

  Where could she go though?

  Sorsha looked around and, as an icy blast of wind chilled her to her bones, she knew exactly where she should go. She pulled her injured arm close to her body and wrapped her uninjured one around herself.

  She blinked away a wave of dizziness and ground her teeth into a twisted, feral expression of determination. She’d make it there if it was the last thing she did.

  21

  She didn’t make it to the monument before she collapsed, too weak to move further. She leaned against the white stone of headstone marked for an unnamed warrior, trying to sit down slowly, but her body had other plans. She wobbled before her legs gave out.

  Her face slammed against the blanket of snow that had formed on the ground, and she groaned.

  Behind her, somewhere further away, she heard Preston laugh. She looked around, blinking back the spots that threatened to overtake her vision. The wind howled around her, whipping snow around in thick sheets.

  She groaned and used her good arm to push herself up and lean against the headstone. Her legs were too weak to go any further.

  Sorsha knew this would be where she died. She chuckled, but the sound broke and cracked.

  “I should have known Shaded Glade would be the end of me.” Her words came out garbled and slurred. She was losing too much blood, she knew.

  Looking back the way she came, she could see the trail of red she’d left behind. The snow falling quickly covered it up though, leaving her to wonder if it was there at all.

  Her head sloughed to the side as she looked down at her wounded arm. There were great gashes in it, and she could see where there was a flap of skin hanging off where Preston had filleted her.

  Snow fell and buried her feet. She giggled nonsensic
ally. “My toes are turning blue,” she tried to say, but it came out as nonsense. Her words no longer sounded like words at all. The fact only made her giggle again, weaker than before.

  She dropped her good arm in the snow next to her sliced arm and slowly scooped up snow to cover it. Maybe the snow would numb her and make her feel less pain.

  For she did feel pain. A lot of it. She could feel the warm blood pour from her wounds, could hear it call her name.

  No. That didn’t make sense.

  She scrunched her brows together, trying to concentrate. Her blood called her name? No, but something—or someone—was calling her name. She blinked, trying to figure out what she heard.

  “Sorsha!”

  No. Not Preston. Anyone but Preston. She whimpered. Was he there to finish what he started? Probably.

  “Sorsha!”

  That wasn’t Preston calling her.

  “So tired,” she said, her eyes fluttering. She could feel her body shutting down. She felt so drained, so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep.

  “Sorsha!”

  Her eyelids fluttered open long enough to catch a glimpse of burning scarlet eyes boring into hers. It wasn’t scary though, like the one memory of red eyes and smoke. These eyes were full of terror.

  “It’s alright,” she wanted to tell Abaddon, but the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She couldn’t speak. She felt so weak.

  Her eyes closed even as she reached up and clasped Abaddon’s hand.

  He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “It’s alright, Sorsha. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Sorsha’s eyes fluttered open once more as he poked and prodded at her arm, assessing the damage. “Abaddon?”

  He growled low in his throat, and she knew she should be afraid, but she couldn’t stop the way her heart danced to hear Abaddon. He’d keep her safe, like he said.

  “Am I dying?” she managed to ask.

  “No.” Abaddon’s growl rippled through her, and she shuddered at the power in his words.