by Mason, V. F.
If it meant there were no other kids who experienced what I did because I was so irresistible, I was glad.
He’d have friends come over, drinking and smoking, who would look at Liam and me and make him weird propositions about other products.
At this point, I learned that products were children, but we never saw any of them or heard them, but then Uncle has a huge mansion, so who knows where he keeps them.
Uncle would give me to them despite his earlier claims of not sharing me, and they’d do the same stuff as him. Sometimes worse, if it was possible, or Uncle allowed them to use chains on me.
One almost choked me to death.
“Ah, Eachann is already here. Let’s hope he can keep his mouth shut.” His voice drops, but I have no worry as I see Eachann emerging from the car and jumping into father’s arms, wrapping them tightly around him while Mom is nowhere in sight.
No wonder. She probably doesn’t want to see her family, and who could blame her?
I understand her comments all too well now.
Later that night in the room, I convinced Eachann that everything done to us was by mistake, and he should never tell this to Dad; otherwise, they wouldn’t send us to Uncle and Grandfather anymore.
He was hesitant but agreed to it after my begging, and his life there was great. He played piano, read books, and enjoyed this summer to the fullest.
Because I paid for it every single night with my body.
“Prepare to smile, Eudard. And remember what will happen if you speak about our relationship or don’t come to me again,” he warns, squeezing my thigh so hard I have no doubt he’s leaving bruises, but I just blink, nodding.
I learned to never show him my pain, because it lights up his eyes with joy, and I hate that.
I hate him and every second close to him, but I will keep this secret.
Uncle is an evil man, and he will hurt us if I tell the truth. He might kidnap Eachann and sell him, or worse, kill our parents and then kidnap us.
I’ve seen so many things in the last three months that I don’t even feel like a kid anymore. I just know he has resources to do what he threatens me with, and I can’t allow this to happen.
Finally, the car parks near the house and the door opens, with James smiling brightly at me. “Eudard, you’re back.” I take a second to think about what he is doing here, since he works for Ralph’s parents. When he lifts me up in his arms, hugging me close, I barely contain the reaction to claw at his hands, hating anyone’s contact. “Welcome home, boy,” he says affectionately, but this word snaps something inside me. I kick him a little to his surprise and say, “My name is Eudard.” He frowns in confusion but places me on the ground where I take several steps back.
“Son.” Dad is by my side instantly, kneeling next to me and wrapping me in his arms.
Even though I hate his touch too, I still wrap my arms around his neck and allow him to lift me up, hiding my face in his shoulder and wanting to cry so much in his arms.
Tell him about everything that has happened.
Beg him to never send me to that man again.
To protect me.
But I can’t hope for it, because none of it can come true. “Hi, Dad,” I say, leaning back. He smiles at me brightly, the corner of his eyes wrinkling. “Hey there, buddy. I missed you.” Eachann jumps next to us, and Dad presses him to his knee, ruffling his hair. “Both of you. Fun vacation?”
“The best! I finally learned how to play the D note.” For the first time, I hear something weird in Eachann’s voice, and even though he is grinning, his eyes are dead. “Mike taught me.” Right, Uncle got him a teacher who spent a lot of time with him in that study.
They’d play for hours, and Eachann would always return sweaty and exhausted, quickly running to the shower before he’d go to bed.
A weird feeling slams into me, but my uncle doesn’t let me focus on those thoughts. “Ridge.” He extends his hand to my father, winking. “Glad to see you again.”
Dad looks at his hand and then tells him, his voice coated in fury, “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t ever come back.” He hugs me closer and Eachann pushes against his leg harder. “I already told your father that if he wants to see the boys, he will do so on his territory. Pull shit like that again, and I’ll put you behind bars.” According to Uncle, Daddy didn’t know about the change of plans and never agreed to them.
Bill never mentioned it to him either, which is weird.
Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t he be out greeting all of us like always?
Uncle keeps his smile intact, but by how his eyes narrow, I know he is barely controlling his anger. “Is that any way to greet your family?”
“You are not my or my wife’s family. Get the hell off my property,” he says again, but then Uncle looks at me, his brows lifting, and pushes Liam forward, who changes from indifferent child to crying baby really quick.
“Does this mean I’ll never see the twins again, Daddy?” he asks our uncle, playing his role well, and even though I want to hide from them and get free of their chains, I can’t risk it.
Uncle even made him memorize these lines in English so he could play his role.
I wiggle down from my dad’s arms and hug Liam close, who surprisingly has a strong grip on me, almost like his dad.
Shaking the feeling off once again, I half turn to Dad and say, even though pushing these words out takes everything in me, “I want to go there on Christmas, Daddy.” I pat Liam then hook my arm over him. “Please.”
Dad frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it when Eachann goes to the other side of Liam, hooking his arm with his. “Me too. Please, Dad.”
Uncle smiles brightly next to us, patting us on the head. I wince with the desire to duck. “Ridge, I think our kids became friends. Isn’t it a crime to break them apart?”
“I’ll decide what’s a crime or not for them.” But since we both watch him with pleading in our eyes, he orders, “Kids, go inside the house. Matilda has cookies ready for you.” He shifts his focus to Liam, who tenses between us. “You too. I need to talk with your father.” My uncle looks very confident, but I spare him no attention as Eachann is dragging us up the stairs, where our butler Leon greets us. “Glad to have you back, Campbell heirs,” he says joyfully, opening the massive doors for us, and Eachann rolls his eyes.
“Stop calling us that.”
But Leon only laughs.
For some reason, he loves the word heirs as if we need a reminder of who we are.
The door shuts behind us, but not before I see a smirk on Uncle’s face. I’m sure he knows Dad rarely refuses us anything.
The smell of freshly baked cookies floats in the air, and Eachann grabs Liam’s arm, pulling him in the direction of the kitchen and shouting over his shoulder to me, “I’m so starved for them.” I nod in agreement even though my stomach twists inside me, because I don’t want any cookies.
Some of Uncle’s friends fed me those before doing….
Fisting my hands, I shake my head and stroll after them, all while mentally begging for Arianna not to be here.
The minute we enter the spacious kitchen though, I see her standing next to her mom, putting melted chocolate on the cookies while they laugh about something.
Her red locks glisten in the sun, and she looks so happy… so warm that my heart does a funny thing in my chest, wanting to be close to that.
I step forward without thinking, despite my earlier thoughts, but that’s when Eachann screams, “Matilda,” and runs to her, hugging her waist. “We are back.”
“My boys are here!” she exclaims, wiping her hands on a towel, and then turns around to return his embrace, rocking him from side to side. “Oh, I missed you so.”
Arianna though pays no attention to them, her violet eyes focusing on me, and then her mouth spreads in such a huge grin I’m blinded by it.
With a loud squeal, she jumps from the counter and darts toward me, slamming into me wit
h full force while her arms wrap around me like an octopus. “Eudard,” she whispers into my ear, rocking me from side to side while I stay motionless in her arms, breathing in her scent and focusing only on it.
I can’t believe she’s here. I’ve imagined her so many times during my nightmares that for a second, I think she isn’t real.
But then she leans back and palms my face, cocking her head to the side, jokingly frowning. “You didn’t come as soon as you promised.” She hugs me again, laughing in joy, and I raise my arms, ready to return the embrace, because I’ve missed her so much.
Liam’s gaze on us stops me. His eyes flash in a dangerous way, almost offended that I dare to be this close to anyone. He has similar looks when Eachann is around, pulling at my sleeves and demanding my attention, even though I never give it.
He might be harmless, but he can tell the monster about Arianna, and I can’t have her close when they are around.
So instead, my hands fist and I weep inside. I take a deep breath and push her away.
She stumbles back in shock, her mom blinking in surprise too, when I say, “I can do whatever I want.” Then I inform Matilda, “I’m going upstairs.” I spin around, but her voice stops me.
“But I baked your favorite cookies.”
“I don’t like cookies anymore,” I throw over my shoulder and run upstairs, hoping to forget forever the tears in Arianna’s eyes that for the first time appeared because of me.
That day is forever stuck in my brain.
Because on that day, the maestro learned about my angel.
So he transformed her into a sinner, trying to punish me.
However, the monster was wrong about one thing.
No matter what happens to me, to her, to us.
There won’t be a day she won’t be mine.
And that is her greatest tragedy.
Cassandra
The seagulls caw loudly in the distance, above the ocean humming in rhythm with them as it crashes against the rocks. The sounds pull me from the kingdom of sleep, alerting me to a new day.
Groaning, my eyes open only to close again when the blinding sun shines brightly on me.
Covering my face with my palm, I roll to the side and inhale a masculine scent that tickles my nostrils. A strong arm is thrown over my middle, keeping me in a protective hold as if announcing to the world I’m untouchable.
I’m about to nuzzle into his neck, to welcome the heat his body produces to warm me from the little breeze that sends goose bumps through me, but then the memories come flooding back, halting my movements.
Eudard.
Gasping, I lift onto my side to see him lying next to me, his chest rising and falling evenly like he doesn’t have a care in the world. We are both naked; a fluffy white blanket is thrown over us.
He must have gotten it in the middle of the night, when right in the arms of an enemy, I was lullabied to sleep with the beating of his heart.
I should probably be more terrified after discovering the truth about him, that I’ve let his bloody hands touch me, but he never forced me to do it.
I was a willing participant in this, and in a way I’m glad.
Because that was my goodbye to him. From this day on, I can’t belong to an enemy, even if part of me will always love him.
We were doomed from the very beginning, but stubbornly we believed otherwise, and didn’t life find a way to prove us wrong?
The devil and his sinner.
In this story, she will escape his clutches, even if she has to run away from Cerberus chasing after her.
Leaning forward, I place a light kiss on his cheek, barely grazing his skin with my lips, and murmur into his ear, “Goodbye, Eudard.” He stays unmoving, only his breath fanning my face. He seems so peaceful in this moment one might doubt he is capable of those horrendous things he’s doing.
But that’s not even the biggest problem between us, and doesn’t it just show how messed up we are?
I can’t ever soothe his darkness… for I have my own.
Pressing the blanket to my chest, I sit up, swinging my legs over the lounger, and wince when the back of my neck protests. A flash of pain travels through me. Cracking my neck from side to side, I ease some tension from it while looking around for my clothes and spot them neatly folded on the chair nearby.
Frowning at this but not questioning my luck, I quickly get up and pad to them, shivering slightly from the cold. I slip my dress on, hating how the fabric is still wet from the rain earlier.
Giving him one last glance, I enter the house, darting toward the door and searching for any sign of my shoes, and stop in my tracks when I notice them by the entrance.
A nagging thought rubs my mind—isn’t it a bit too easy for me? But I shake my head and focus on the good parts.
Maybe God has finally decided to turn his face to me and help me out of this situation.
All I need to do is find a way to go back home and call Arson. They’ll fix it after that. Eudard must know them. He won’t be able to do anything with them in town. And besides, killing me is not on his agenda, right? He probably wouldn’t even have done anything to me and just pretended till my revenge was done.
What did Eunan say back in the church?
I wanted to kill those fuckers for a long time. But we couldn’t until you came back so you could play with them yourself.
So does it mean Eudard waits for me to have my fill before he inflicts his? Is this why he has played a game with me?
Why does he want vengeance anyway?
Did they do something to Eachann and that’s why…
Oh, God.
Dizziness overtakes me, and I sway a little to the side, grabbing the top of the chair and steading myself as the realization rocks my entire body.
Could the founding five be so fearless that ten years ago they went against a Campbell in their own town?
The chirping of the birds in the distance snaps my attention back to the present, and I resume my walk toward the door. I ignore the warning bells in my head, in addition to the pity I’m feeling and the curiosity to ask all these questions.
Whatever happened in the past doesn’t matter, because in the present we have no future.
I can’t think about Eudard’s emotions. I have to make myself a priority first; otherwise, the madness around me will consume me.
With that thought in mind, I quietly step outside, gasping when I see endless forest around me.
But what about the ocean in the distance?
Only then it dawns on me that we are on no-man’s land, between ours and the island town, which means Eudard built his fortress, or whatever the hell he calls this thing, right in the middle of the borders.
So we’re close to one of the beaches of the island town, the one located closer to the edges.
Running forward, I turn around to study the building from the outside, and I see nothing but a single-level brick house with two windows, hidden from view by a lot of trees so that people wandering in the forest would have a hard time finding it.
How did he build such a massive house with a basement around here, though? It would take years to prepare something like this.
For a second, I think I’m in the same place where we made love for the first time but then realize we are miles away from there. He probably didn’t want to have his dungeon so close to town.
It doesn’t escape my notice though that it’s dangerously close to the cliff, nevertheless.
“Stop it and move, Cassandra,” I order myself, hating the fact that I’m still dwelling on it instead of darting away from this hell as quickly as possible.
Since the grass and leaves are soft under me, I slip off my heels and dart through the forest, thinking only about escape and not how many memories this place brings.
Or pain or my screams of agony.
In the distance, I hear screeches of cars, so that means there must be a road nearby, and I exhale heavily, speeding up, ignoring the scratches forming on my f
eet and the light sting traveling up from my calves to my knees.
I run and run, my ears alert for any sounds that might come from behind me—probably like a deer feels when a predator hunts it, ready to strike its claw into the prey’s neck.
Does their heart beat wildly in their chest too? Do white dots blur their vision and their lungs beg for a break and a deep breath of air, but instead they have to feed it with raspy gulps while they run with all their might, fighting for their life?
Is there ever a reprieve from the chase? A moment of peace without fighting for the right to live?
Hunters and prey are forever connected in this life, because their survival revolves around each other.
One doesn’t exist without the other.
I’m so deep into my thoughts and my instinct to survive that I don’t notice when I get out on the road, my bare feet connecting with the hot concrete. I cry out when I see a car moving toward me, stopping at the last second right in front of my knees, inches away.
Breathing heavily, I cover my mouth with my palms, blinking in shock at such luck and recklessness on my side.
The driver emerges from the vehicle, resting his elbow on the car door while his sunglasses-covered eyes give nothing away.
He is so freaking tall. His blond hair is pulled into a messy bun, shining brightly under the sun, and I blink from the impact this Scandinavian God has on me.
Not that I find any man particularly good-looking for many reasons, but this one is surely considered handsome among the ladies.
I tense, fully expecting him to shout at me or curse me seven ways to Sunday. After all, I’m the crazy lunatic who was on the road that he almost ran over.
But to my surprise, he does none of those things. Instead, he cocks his head to the side and studies me with interest. “Hey! Are you all right?” he asks, his tone void of any emotion, but the frostiness of it sends chills down my spine, nevertheless.
He scans me from head to toe, probably noticing my state but doesn’t comment on it, patiently awaiting my reply.
