needle from my flesh, adding to my already unbearable suffering.
The restraints were next. His eyes flashed to mine before he released the last of my bonds. It was a challenging look, as if he were goading me. He wanted me to fight against him. He wished for the opportunity to hurt me. I was strong-willed and probably a little pig-headed but I was not stupid. I knew my physical breaking point, and that breaking point was closer than I could have possibly imagined.
Without a care in the world for my battered back, my wobbly limbs, or the fact that I was still groggy from anesthesia, the Keeper ripped me from the table, and threw me into the adjacent wall. I cried out as I crashed into the unforgiving cement barrier.
The Keeper smiled down at me and slowly creeped closer to my shaking body. Bending, so I could see the laughter playing across his wicked eyes, he chuckled, “He said no permanent injuries, nothing about having a little fun.”
I wanted to plead for him to have mercy but that word did not exist in a Keeper’s vocabulary. They fed on fear, frolicked in our tortured screams and pleas for relief. Stiffening my spine, I pulled to my feet, using the surgical table as my support. With my limbs feeling the consistency of rubber, I did not know how long I could support my weight.
He stepped nearer, brows raised, eyes a tempting flicker of delight, “How did it feel, watching us take down your friend?” He smiled as he watched the shock of his words hit me like the force of a wrecking-ball into my chest. Gripping the metal table for support, my knuckles cracking and straining a brilliant white, I sucked in a deep breath. I knew I had to stay calm, that I had to stay in control. I couldn’t play into his hand. He wanted me to react. To him, I was a fun new toy,
“His screams of agony, his pleas, they rang in our ears like music.”
John would have never pleaded with a Keeper. He would have suffocated on his own spit and blood before he begged a Keeper for anything.
With one iced cold hand resting atop mine, he pulled my chin up with the other so that I would be looking directly into his empty pale eyes, and he smiled. “His death was not a quick one.”
I collapsed under the weight of emotion that crushed me. Whether his words rang with truth or not, my best friend was still gone and there was no one to blame but me.
I lied on the cold floor of the operating room, anticipating the Keeper’s next move, praying for a physical blow because my mind could no longer handle any more afflictions.
An unyielding foot landed to the center of my ribs, my held breath rushed out accompanied by a tortured wail. “ Ahhhh! god, why ?”
“What did I tell you!” A harsh voice boomed furiously through the room, echoing off the barren walls.
The Keeper that once stood over me, waiting for the next opening to rain down another blow quickly backed away, his hands up in surrender watching Declan reentered the room. “Touch her again and die.” Declan threatened as he grabbed my shoulders, lifting me to my feet, “Are you hurt?” He asked once the Keeper was out of earshot.
My ribs felt bruised, not broken, thankfully. Breathing was difficult due to the aching, but not impossible. I would heal quickly, “Not permanently .” I repeated his words back to him, mocking his impetuous tone.
“Walk slowly.” He ordered, leading the way down the darkened hall, supporting my tired form with a rigid arm, “This will happen again, Erin.” He admitted once more, “But, please trust me when I say that this is far better than anything else.”
“You killed the only person I had left in this world.” I said to him through clenched teeth, “Nothing you say will I ever believe.”
Drawing in a harsh breath, he swung the steel cell door open, and pushed me inside.
“I am saving you.” He murmured. His voice barely above a whisper before he slammed the door shut behind me.
The collective shrieks from the scared occupants
The restraints were next. His eyes flashed to mine before he released the last of my bonds. It was a challenging look, as if he were goading me. He wanted me to fight against him. He wished for the opportunity to hurt me. I was strong-willed and probably a little pig-headed but I was not stupid. I knew my physical breaking point, and that breaking point was closer than I could have possibly imagined.
Without a care in the world for my battered back, my wobbly limbs, or the fact that I was still groggy from anesthesia, the Keeper ripped me from the table, and threw me into the adjacent wall. I cried out as I crashed into the unforgiving cement barrier.
The Keeper smiled down at me and slowly creeped closer to my shaking body. Bending, so I could see the laughter playing across his wicked eyes, he chuckled, “He said no permanent injuries, nothing about having a little fun.”
I wanted to plead for him to have mercy but that word did not exist in a Keeper’s vocabulary. They fed on fear, frolicked in our tortured screams and pleas for relief. Stiffening my spine, I pulled to my feet, using the surgical table as my support. With my limbs feeling the consistency of rubber, I did not know how long I could support my weight.
He stepped nearer, brows raised, eyes a tempting flicker of delight, “How did it feel, watching us take down your friend?” He smiled as he watched the shock of his words hit me like the force of a wrecking-ball into my chest. Gripping the metal table for support, my knuckles cracking and straining a brilliant white, I sucked in a deep breath. I knew I had to stay calm, that I had to stay in control. I couldn’t play into his hand. He wanted me to react. To him, I was a fun new toy,
“His screams of agony, his pleas, they rang in our ears like music.”
John would have never pleaded with a Keeper. He would have suffocated on his own spit and blood before he begged a Keeper for anything.
With one iced cold hand resting atop mine, he pulled my chin up with the other so that I would be looking directly into his empty pale eyes, and he smiled. “His death was not a quick one.”
I collapsed under the weight of emotion that crushed me. Whether his words rang with truth or not, my best friend was still gone and there was no one to blame but me.
I lied on the cold floor of the operating room, anticipating the Keeper’s next move, praying for a physical blow because my mind could no longer handle any more afflictions.
An unyielding foot landed to the center of my ribs, my held breath rushed out accompanied by a tortured wail. “ Ahhhh! god, why ?”
“What did I tell you!” A harsh voice boomed furiously through the room, echoing off the barren walls.
The Keeper that once stood over me, waiting for the next opening to rain down another blow quickly backed away, his hands up in surrender watching Declan reentered the room. “Touch her again and die.” Declan threatened as he grabbed my shoulders, lifting me to my feet, “Are you hurt?” He asked once the Keeper was out of earshot.
My ribs felt bruised, not broken, thankfully. Breathing was difficult due to the aching, but not impossible. I would heal quickly, “Not permanently .” I repeated his words back to him, mocking his impetuous tone.
“Walk slowly.” He ordered, leading the way down the darkened hall, supporting my tired form with a rigid arm, “This will happen again, Erin.” He admitted once more, “But, please trust me when I say that this is far better than anything else.”
“You killed the only person I had left in this world.” I said to him through clenched teeth, “Nothing you say will I ever believe.”
Drawing in a harsh breath, he swung the steel cell door open, and pushed me inside.
“I am saving you.” He murmured. His voice barely above a whisper before he slammed the door shut behind me.
The collective shrieks from the scared occupants
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