Maskli (Legacy Of Bluebloods 1#)

25

(Sam)

Sam stared at the cracks of the wall in the cell, and pretended that they were some sort of a pattern that never exists on it. The paint of the corner ceiling was faded, some part of it had peeled off, making it a thousand years old. The moon outside the head-sized window was comforting the pain she felt inside. She squeezed her eyes shut, reeled out the disgust and shame burning in her.

Perhaps death was a welcoming decision after all. She tried. She tried to be strong, putting up every defense she had with her energy to maintain her opinion, her innocence...

Sometimes, being the strongest made you the weakest. This was because you tried too hard to be one, in the end, it will drain you. Your will would be lost to reality.

Although she was healed physically by her strange glow, that didn't mean the wound inside her cured, they remained, raw as always. Her body didn't look like she had gone to battle.

Better that than visible scars, because...

Some scars were meant to be invisible.

Henry was truly an animal. Those nauseous hands...She unconsciously touched the hem of her pants through her shackled hands, relief flooded when they were still with her.

Those were the six longest days of her life.

"You're worthless." Henry spat on her, tore her clothes like it was a rag.

"How pathetic you look. Ugly witch. Thank god I didn't have to look at your face." His hands were on her thighs, spreading them apart.

That's when things gone worse.

She kicked him in the face. Then again by his precious jewel. How she wished her hands were free of chains so she could knock him unconscious.

"Bitch!!" He grabbed her by her throat, slammed her against the wall, other hand punched her again and again "You'll regret this. Amis! Bring me the heating iron rod!"

She wasn't sure how long he marked her skin, laughing while placing the scalding rod on her bareback, inner thighs, and chest, but she knew she couldn't hold back her tears anymore. She couldn't hold back her scream.

She hated it.

Is it wrong to cry out while feeling an unpleasant fire on her? She hated to be helpless.

It's over now. Amis, the one who bought her here fully clothed had smuggled her out of that horrid private cell with Henry by lying to Henry he wanted a taste of his captive. She wasn't sure what had urged him to display the sudden kindness to her, but she was grateful, even though Amis told her he was not allowed to provide her food.

Just one more day.

"Are you hungry?" a small voice appeared out of the darkness. Sam snapped her head back to the owner of the voice. She knew her when Henry dragged Sam here. The girl's beige skin was tainted with hideous scars. Sam felt guilty when she saw her wounded places. The girl was suspected as a witch too, she had told her just now. The girl's name is Fallon.

"No." Sam eyed Fallon's plate that barely contained breadcrumbs, it wouldn't be enough for even a person, why would two be an exception? Sam smiled sadly "Really, I am not hungry."

"I will be happy if you will share along too." Fallon pushed the plate to her. Sam hesitated "No, I'm not hungry."

Fallon resigned, munched down quickly, Sam averted her attention to the window again, to give her privacy to eat. Tonight could be the last night she will be watching moonlight. Her thoughts wandered to her family, who had come earlier. Of course, the guards wouldn't let them see her.