Devour my Soul

Seconds ticked away in my head as I slouched forward on my blood soaked wooden chair. My face itched; the incessant tingling was slowly driving me insane as I attempted to scratch my cheek against my shoulder. My wrists stung. Raw from trying to force my hand from the clutches of the black zip tie so I could relieve the itch with my fingernails. Thinking about it made me shudder in desire; knowing the feeling of my nails grazing over the itch would be utterly orgasmic.

Delaney had left me alone. His hands no longer inflicted pain on my body, his weapons no longer slicing into me. For the time being, I was safe. If only to gather my strength enough to regenerate my body.

‘It’s not much fun when you pass out,’ he had said. I wasn’t sure whether I should be grateful or scared. Probably the latter.

My body was healing slowly. Antheon was too tired to work any faster, and I didn’t blame him. We’d been tortured for hours on end, and I couldn’t really be sure how long I had been here. Days or weeks, they all blurred into one, and only separated once the torment had stopped. It was then that I’d started counting. I wondered if I would be classified insane at this point.

Three hundred and fifty four. Three hundred and fifty five.

Just as I’d expected, the familiar clang of metal grating against metal sounded in the small room. My count had reached the eighty-six thousand mark, signalling the return of Delaney as he had been doing on a daily basis since the beginning of my ‘recovery’.

A grimace habitually crossed my features, knowing exactly what he would bring with him, and asking myself whether this wasn’t more torturous than the beating he had given me. Perhaps that was the point. Though I hadn’t the strength to look up at him just yet, I knew he would be wearing the ugliest of smirks and I didn’t have the power to slap it off.

“Feeding time,” Delaney chuckled, and as usual I didn’t bother to grace him with a reply. My head hung limply against my chest, willing him to go away. “Now be a good little girl and eat up.”

Snatching my chin in his grasp, the man pried my lips open, his grin widening in amusement as I futilely tried to wrench my face away. Holding on tighter, his fingers dug into my jaw painfully, his eyes dancing with joy. I winced, closing my eyes to shut out his disgusting smirk.

“We need to keep your strength up if you’re going to heal, little lady,” he scolded happily.

Unable to pull away, Delaney spooned a mouthful of potatoes, and shoved it deeply into my throat. Spluttering against the spoon rubbing against my oesophagus, I instinctively threw the potatoes up, narrowly missing Delaney’s shoes as it sprayed out in front of me. My chin fell down to my chest as the man jumped back, swearing profanely.

“What the fu– ”

My eyes fluttered lazily as he abruptly stopped talking. My strength was fading quickly; having thrown up the food Delaney had been trying to feed me the past couple of days. I didn’t have much longer. My body wouldn’t heal quickly enough before I died of starvation. Already I could see my arms shrinking away.

“Take it to Dooley’s. I owe him a body.”

My ears pricked at the sound of a voice that wasn’t Delaney’s. The thick richness rolled through the words, demanding respect and obedience, and most probably receiving both at all times of the day. My head rolled to the side, my muscles too weak to lift it up, in an attempt to find the owner of that beautiful voice.

Peering out of a blurred corner of my eye, a dark shape stepped into my line of sight, stretching down to connect with a motionless form splayed across my dried blood before dragging the darkness away. In its place, another dark shape stepped forward, smelling of expensive leather and aftershave.

“Evan,” I choked in a strangled whisper.

Desperation laced my tone, entwining together with my pain and relief in a sad and pathetic twist. I could barely see him through my tear filled eyes and I blinked rapidly as I peered through my blurry vision. I wanted to see his face. To see that infuriating smirk and his kind eyes.

“Ellie,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

A harsh sob escaped my lips, tears streaming down my face in large drops. The water turned pink as they streaked through the blood still caked on my cheeks, falling to my lap as my wrists found sudden freedom. Within moments, the warmth of Evan’s arms wrapped around me, gathering me into the embrace of his body.

“Are you alright?” he murmured into my hair, but I was frozen, unable to do anything more than clutch feebly at his shirt. Instead he held me back an inch, taking my chin in his fingers and gazing intently into my glassy eyes.

I tried to ignore the heart wrenching pain that etched across his face as his eyes travelled my body, breaking each time they landed on an unhealed bruise or cut. I could only guess what I looked like and it started with an ‘Sh’ and rhymed with ‘it’. Unfortunately I didn’t even have the energy to brush my matted hair from my eyes, dampening again with my refreshed set of tears.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” Evan whispered in my ear. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A content sigh was all that I could muster as my eyes dried up again but it seemed that was all Evan needed to reassure him that I was fine. His grip on me tightened slightly as he carefully lifted my weak body from the chair, pressing me into him as though I were the final piece to his puzzle.

If I had to be honest, I kinda liked it.