The Pawn

Chapter Fiftteen: Out of Hand

"No, don't do this!" My voice pleaded frantically as I wiggled and twisted against an iron clad grip that was fastened tightly around my wrist.

Thick tear drops clung to my dark lashes as they continued to blind my vision, making my footsteps heavy and uneven.

"I promise, I'll be a good girl. Please, Father!" My words squeaked from my mouth once more, the voice sounding so foreign and rehearsed as he continued to drag me against my will down the concrete forged walls of the basement beneath our home.

"Enough of you quivering, Aria. You are only making this harder on yourself." The cold voice responded, his grip only tightening further as he jolted my arm harshly towards his side in efforts to quicken our pace.

There was a pause, as I rubbed the back of my palm roughly against my eyelids willing the flow of tears to stop. A faint sound of jingling keys muffled against my fathers suit pocket could be heard as he cursed silently under his breath in the darkness of the hallway.

The keys finally emerged from his pocket, as he fumbled to find the correct one. Twisting the key, he waisted no time in dragging my small frame through the entrance, letting the heavy wooden door to slam behind us sealing us within.

Twisting my small frail arm once more, he captured both my wrists between his hands and steered me in the direction of a wooden chair placed neatly in the center of the candle lit room. My screams were a mere whisper hidden within the room, as my father struggled with the leather restraints bolted inside the interior of the chair.

"Would you stop wiggling?" He spatted with hateful tone, peering down at me through slanted eyes.

Every fiber of my being screamed against the touch of the man, knowing fully well what lied ahead of me.

This wasn't the first time.

Slap.

The hit was quick and brief throwing my small head to the side in a result, leaving my cheek with an red nasty sting. It only a faired as a warning however, as my body finally stilled against the unfaltering grip. 

"This isn't just for you, this is for our future." My father voice sang as he pulled a familiar wooden box from within his jacket pocket. The recited sentence was enough to make me physically ill, as he claimed this wasn't his fault but his duty to mankind.

A flash of silver was the last thing I let my eyes linger on before I slammed them shut. Scrunching my face together as if it was somehow going to prevent the inevitable. Time moved at a slower pace, as my father tied a thick elastic around the base of my tricep, as if it would help. It must've been his only claim of kindness.

"Steady now..." his musky voice instructed, before the overwhelming sting of pain raced through my veins. I convulsed against the leather restraints, every cell in my body working overtime to reject the foreign substance that had just been injected in my body.

Yet, even after yearly doses of the same concoction being forced into my bloodstream, I never knew what it was.

I could feel the froth beginning to form at the edges of my mouth, my head thrown back against the back of the chair as my father only speculated in the corner. I only had two more minutes of this hell before I would pass out. The only upside of this torture was that the process was so familiar, even if was only once a year.

"Why...." the phrase was repeated over and over as I peered through squinted eyes at my father.

"Why me....?"