Temptation of her Flame ✔️

chapter thirty two

covid 😐

(the tradition by halsey)

ARIA

I didn't choose to surrender to the forces that stole me from home, and yet here I was, with a familiar dull ache against my temple.

Agony would bloom the moment I allow consciousness to seep into my brain. The first few seconds would be dreadful, and I prolonged the inevitable for as long as I could.

I was alive. I didn't want to be.

That was a mentality I had buried in the depths of my head before I escaped, and now, I was brought back to the past.

Awakening was a gradual process—an ache to a constant throbbing, then an excruciating pain. Memories returned like a flow of illumination in an otherwise dark tunnel—dancing and laughing and loving, so so much loving. My will to survive was a fickle thing, strengthening and withering and repeating itself all over again.

I was trapped in a small area, one that would resemble a jail cell. However, it had no metal bars but a closed door that made the environment seem more like a prison instead. Perhaps that was what this is. Whatever it was. My pounding headache was rearranging the sequence of my thoughts with a speed that shamed bullet trains.

I sighed, arms reaching out to push myself away from the cold, polished stone floor. I supposed my captors did invest in a pinch of comfort for their prisoners, but I couldn't spare an ounce of gratitude for them. I was taken away from home, alone and confused and shivering with fear.

I remembered my father, his menacing words, and oh, Vincenzo and I were surrounded by armed people in our home during his annual ball, and they'd somehow managed to drag me someplace else against my will. I inhaled deeply, feeling a band constricting my lungs.

I was still in my golden dress, and I winced upon seeing the damage on it. It had leaves, mud and the bottom had been shredded off. My captors, whoever they were, seemed to have hauled me across forest grounds.

I bit my lips in frustration. The dress cost me a luxury; it was enough to purchase a car. Now, it was almost in tatters, and I couldn't stop my heart from shattering to smithereens. I didn't have the energy to gather them again.

But...

My eyes widened, my hand falling to the side of my thigh, and despite my terrible situation, I managed to release a brief, hysterical laugh.

My jailer didn't care to check what I had in my possession. They thought me Vincenzo's harmless, model girlfriend and dismissed how I was first brought into his house bathed in gore from injuries I survived.

My gun remained strapped to my leg. It was my ace in this traumatic game of poker, and I had to play it well.

With renewed but fragile hope, I stood with unstable limbs and explored the little space around me. I must have been carelessly chucked into the prison and ignored. There was no windows, no route to the outside but the lonesome locked door in front of me. The only light source was a bulb on the ceiling, which threatened to blink out any second.

I glanced downwards and frowned. I must look insane. Damon joked once, claiming he laid money to bet that I escaped a mental asylum. I was dressed in blood then and now in mud. I was chaos made human.