Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2) (8 page)

The wall directly in front of me displays a shrine of sorts . . . an array of tools from the Spanish Inquisition. Biting down on my bottom lip, my eyes rake over the Iron Spider, better known as the “Breast Ripper”. A tool made of solid iron, that when heated, is used to literally rip the breasts off women. Staring at the horrid torture device, my tears begin streaming faster. My eyes slide to the next horrific device . . . the lead sprinkler.

A horrendous device indeed. It was used to shower its victims with boiling water, tar, or even . . . lead. As I continue to stare at the wall, the knot in my stomach tightens. In all of my time as a teacher, I’ve never once doubted my career choice . . . until this very moment. However, right now, I find myself wishing I’d chosen an entirely different path. The phrase “ignorance is bliss” immediately comes to mind. For the first time in my life, I wish I wasn’t a teacher and hadn’t minored in history.

I’d love nothing more than to be completely unenlightened as to what each and every one of these egregious devices are. My eyes once again slide across the wall, continuing their trek around the room and land on the rack. Who in the hell actually owns a rack? My mother. Of course she owns a damn rack. Why wouldn’t she . . . That’s my luck.

Looking up at the ceiling, I notice the large hooks embedded with chains attached. Shackles line the walls and a small table with surgical instruments sits off to the side. No, not surgical instruments, knives of all different sizes. Letting my head fall forward, my chin rests on my chest as my tears continue to fall. A painful tightness sets in my shoulders. Rolling them, I try to alleviate some of the pressure when I notice my arms are tied behind my back, and my knees and ankles are bound together as well.

Wiggling, I try to get the ropes loose. Firm hands painfully latch onto my shoulders. Tsking, the henchman moves closer, his voice low and menacing. “I would not do that if I were you, Agassi.”

Immediately, my body goes rigid in the chair. His voice holds a dangerous unspoken promise. Something tells me he wants me to continue struggling. An overwhelming urge to vomit arises, one that I’m unable to quash. Turning my head to the right, acid works its way up my esophagus, pitching and rolling until I’m spewing over the side of the chair.

Growling, he grasps my hair tightly, thrusting me forward while I continue to empty my stomach. Running his free hand down the side of my face, he coos in my ear, “There, there now, Agassi. I’ll take care of you.”

With my stomach churning for an entirely different reason now, I rasp out, “Get your damn hands off of me.”

Firming his hold in my hair, he pulls back, straightening me in the chair. Rumbling, his menacing laughter shakes his body, vibrating both of us as his hot breath levitates over my ear.

“You will be so fun to break. I can’t wait to sink deep inside you.”

The stench of his breath hits my nostrils. Gagging, I force myself to swallow back the bile trying to work its way up yet again. Focusing all of my energy, I begin taking breaths through my mouth. Gritting my teeth, I’m barely able to grind out a response.

“Over my dead body.”

Tossing his head back, he bellows loudly. “That can always be arranged, Agassi . . . and I do love a challenge.” Tipping his head in slightly, he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and groaning. Upon opening them, he quickly closes the distance, smashing his lips to mine. Keeping my lips sealed, I try pulling my head back, but his hand is firmly locked in my hair, holding me in place. His tongue snakes out of his mouth, running along the seam of my lips, seeking entrance.

My eyes grow wide in horror as I pull back, fighting to put an end to the unwanted affection. Gripping my hair, he wrenches back as tiny pinpricks of pain careen through the base of my skull, causing me to gasp and open my mouth to him. Thrusting his tongue in, he plunges deeply, seeking, taking what he desires. Blood rushes to my ears as I squirm, trying to fight him off. Holding me tighter, he continues delving into the orifice as if it were a long lost treasure. Panic swells as I realize my desire to gouge his eyes out is nothing but a fantasy since my hands are bound.

A striking moment of clarity materializes as I run through the arsenal of weapons at my disposal. Leaning forward into his kiss, I sink my teeth into his tongue. He pulls back with a yelp, and I’m immediately rewarded with a meaty fist along the side of my face. Pain bursts across my cheek, pulsating throughout my skull. Blood rapidly begins filling my mouth. Turning my head, I spit, watching crimson pool on the floor next to the drain.

Laughing, I let my head fall back as I face the furious gaze of my mother’s henchman. With a smile still on my lips, I say, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Anger flashes brightly in his eyes as he takes a menacing step toward me. The basement door opens, and the voice of my past floats across the room before he’s able to raise another hand.

“What are you doing?” The ice in her voice freezes him where he stands.

Unable to help myself, I remark, “I see you’re here to join the party.”

Moving briskly, she comes to stand in front of me. Dark eyes narrow into tiny slits as she says, “Remember who you’re talking to, Ttal.”

Powerless to control my tongue, the words tumble from my mouth without a care as to the danger they may put me in. “Yeah, you’ve said that before. I’m just not really caring at this point. What, you gonna have your guy here try and make out with me some more? Because I’ve gotta say, that was definitely worse than you pouring that shitty water down my throat.”

Her nostrils flare wide as she turns to glare in the direction of her henchman. “You did what?” she inquires in a deadly voice.

Shrugging, he smiles and responds, “I’m a man, what can I say?”

With unexpected speed, she grasps him by the throat and steps into his body. Her melodic voice is barely above a whisper as she utters the words, “If you ever touch her without my permission again, it will be the last thing that you do. Is that understood, Jeong?”

In a matter of moments, all of the musty air in the dingy basement crackles with tension. Shallow breaths saw in and out, searing my raw lungs. My mind races, searching for answers. Why is she protecting me? It’s not like she cares. She’s torturing me for her own gain.

The situation is sixty shades of messed up. All she’s ever given me is a lifetime of unfulfilled promises and broken bones. Ragged breaths draw my attention back to the two fighting for dominance at my side. Flexing her fingers, my mother tightens her grip, cutting off the air to her henchman’s throat.

“I said, is that understood?” she snarls.

Lowering his eyes, he takes a breath through his nose and gives a rough nod of his head. She releases him with a shove, and he stumbles back a step before righting himself. Hatred and anger shine brightly in his eyes before he levels me with his gaze. His eyes bore into mine for several long moments. A rushed breath leaves my lungs. I’m hardly able to drag in another to replace the one I’ve lost.

Turmoil. It’s the only way to describe my riotous emotions. Utter turmoil, all because of the glimpse of himself he’s bestowed upon me. One I do not wish for. He’s given me a peek into his barely leashed desire and rage just beneath the surface that are straining to be free. My pulse begins to race, hammering through my veins. He drags in a final breath before hastily turning his icy glare back to my mother.

“What would you like to do first, Mamasan?”

“Get the gidung while I have a word with my daughter.”

An involuntary groan passes my lips as he takes his leave, going to get the wooden poles she requested.

“Now, now, Ttal. No need to be like that. You can stop this at any time.” Gliding in my direction, my mother runs her delicately manicured fingers down my face. Ice instantly fills my veins.

Shaking my head, my voice squeaks, as I say, “No.”

Growling, she shoves away from me, thrusting the chair I’m in back onto two legs. Startled, I scream as the chair is forced down onto four legs again, sending ripples of pain through my joints.

“Do it.”

Dragging the gidung behind him, Jeong takes slow, intimidating steps toward me. Every muscle in my body tenses as I await the imminent torture that will no doubt be doled out to me. Taking his time, his eyes rove over my body, lust gleaming with each heated pass. As he approaches me, a feral grin stretches across his face, transforming him from dangerous to deadly. Trying to get as far away from him as possible, I slump down in the chair, scooting as far back as my bound arms and legs will allow me. Coming to a stop directly in front of me, he drags the poles, holding them in the shape of an X before my quivering body.

Crouching down, he runs his fingers up the lengths of my calves. Prying my shins apart, he takes both wooden poles and inserts them between my legs into an X-formation. Applying pressure, he pushes them so the center of the pole is now in the middle of my shins. Running his hands along the undersides of my calves one final time, he squeezes before standing and peering over his shoulder to my mother. Glancing in my direction, she gives a curt nod before taking a seat on top of the rack in the corner, studying the polish on her nails.

Jeong’s large hands grasp the inside of each pole. With his gaze firmly fixed on mine, he applies pressure, thrusting outward, scissoring them open. Every muscle in my legs and hips stretch, elongating, pulling taut. Fiery pain rushes through each tendon, incinerating the tissue from within. My chest blazes as the ability to breathe leaves me. It’s impossible to think let alone draw in a breath.

Licking his lips, he smiles as he stretches me further. A deep cry fizzes, bubbling like the effervescence of sparkling wine, shattering the stillness of the room. Drawing out my suffering, he lingers, applying pressure then backing off. Lightning shoots through the tendons in my shins as he applies pressure one final time. Unable to hold myself up any longer, my body falls forward. Whimpers ring through the room as Jeong pauses his ministrations, giving me a brief respite.

Coasting across the room, my mother halts before me, brushing strands of matted hair out of my eyes. Slinking away from her touch, I moan, the slight movement jarring my already bruised and battered legs. An unnamable emotion flits across her gaze. Dropping her hand, she quickly slips her blank mask back in place. In the short time I’ve been back with my mother, I’ve seen many sides of her. Most are confusing, yet one remains the same: her ability to turn her emotions off and move on like nothing fazes her.

It scares the hell out of me the way her dead eyes look right through you as if you aren’t even there. Somewhere in the back of my mind, her comment from earlier nags at me:
“We’re not so different, you and I.”
One of my deepest, darkest fears is that I will turn out to be like my mother. I’ve spent a majority of my life running from my demons and the shadows of my past only to have them catch up to me.

What do you do when you have to face your greatest fears? How do you overcome the darkness that’s terrorized you for most of your life?

My father’s face flashes before me, pulling me from the recesses of my mind, anchoring me in the light. Brilliant blue eyes. Kindness. Love. Each word cements me further in the light tethering me to the strength my father gives me.

A fluttery feeling spreads through my chest like butterflies in springtime. Purging all negative thoughts, I focus on the light spreading through my veins, warming me from the inside. Taking small breaths through my nose, I ignore the pain in my legs. Mentally, my inner goddess, as Alex likes to call me, is encouraging me to be strong and succeed. With his name passing through my mind, hope flares brightly in my soul. Determined to stay my course and not give in, I tighten my jaw and peer up at her through my lashes.

My mother’s shrewd gaze scrutinizes every inch of my face. Seizing my chin, she crushes it beneath her slender fingers. Tears begin welling behind my eyes from the intensity of her unyielding grip. Sucking in a sharp breath through my nose, I bite the inside of my cheek, willing my tears away.

“Submit. Join me.”

“No.” The word is barely audible over my wavering voice.

Snarling, my mother pulls back, releasing me. “SUBMIT!” The ferocity in her tone causes me to flinch enough to jar the wooden poles and rip a scream from my throat.

Chuckling, Jeong leans forward. “I like it when you struggle, Agassi,” he whispers.

My stomach rolls violently with his admission. Stalking forward like a tigress hunting her prey, my mother moves with deadly grace. “Join me, Ttal. Take your rightful place at my side.”

Raising my head, our gazes lock. Giving my head a little shake, I whisper, “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” Her question makes me pause. I’m not exactly sure what made her ask. To me, it’s evident they’re one and the same. However, judging by the look on her face, they are completely different. Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I reply, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t belong here. I will not stay here and do whatever it is you want me to do. No matter what you do to me.”

Laughing, she tosses her head back, her dark hair spilling in waves around her face. It’s ironic how a delicate, feminine beauty can hide a monster within. But that’s precisely the case with my mother . . . beautiful on the outside, yet she houses an untamable beast within.

“Oh, you forget my darling, Ttal, who your mother is.” She wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “I can be very persuasive. You’d be surprised what people will do when you inflict the right amount of pain.” She nods to Jeong, who applies more pressure.

Searing pain jolts through my shins, traveling up my legs like bolts of electric currents. My hips scream in protest at each outward push. Holding up her hand, he halts, stopping as she asks, “What is your answer now?”

A moment passes as I heave, dragging in breath after breath, trying to sate my starving lungs. Panting, each word is spoken in staccato. “My . . . answer . . . is . . . still . . . no.”

“Very well. Remember you brought this on yourself.” She turns her attention to her henchman, saying, “Suspend her from the ceiling and shackle her. We’ll leave her to hang for a while before we use the cane.”