i swear i pressed publish 3 hours ago??? idk
chap 41 is the last of the memories ;)
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 | "𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐩."
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D A Y
T H I R T E E N/ F O U R T E E N
[ part 2 ]
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ϟ
𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟕, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖
𝟓 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅
𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑
There is urine absorbing into the denim fabrics of my jeans. Agony engulfs the entirety of my body like acid bubbling beneath the skin of my flesh. Thick metal shackles are tightened around my wrist and held above my head, the linking chains adhere to the top flooring.
I think I may be hung from the ceiling, my toes hardly maintaining my body's balance.
There is a sensation of emptiness that overwhelms my presence. It is as though blood has spilled from my pores, leaving my veins hollow, dryly flaking. My absence of focus retorts from piecing a proper thought together, as if fragments of my skull are chipped and ricocheting around my vacant head.
I'm going insane, my tongue is crisply dry and the organ of my stomach might as well be useless. The last four? Three?— days, I have struggled to maintain my sanity, control my desire to drop dead.
I'll be fine.
I'll be fine.
I'll be fine
I'll be fine.
"Candles, a blue sky, mountains, a small village, and green grass." My voice croaks, naming five things my eyes can perceive. I ignore the three slabbed brick walls engulfing me, viewing the captivating horizon teasing me, as if it were dangling my freedom on a thin thread, waiting for me to chase my own tail. I disregard how the shackles adhered to my wrist permit me to desire to tear the joints linking my hand to my arm and I identify five things I have the ability to smell. "Gasoline, rained plants, sweet bread—"
My clothes are changing, a white nightgown replacing my dirtied purple shirt, erasing the jeans from my body with the purpose of reaching the cotton fabric below my knees.
"She's a pretty one," a deep voice mutters and my vision snaps to the two individuals ahead of me. The man with the auburn colored hair, an inadequate appearance of hunger plastering across his sharpened face as his eyes trail down my figure, and a familiar blond planted beside him.
Draco narrows his eyes at him for a fragment of a second, folding his arms as he reverts from meeting eyes with me. "Vance, hurry the fuck up, we're two people behind schedule." He speaks to him as though he were a dear companion, the same man who is now approaching me with sinful intentions.
"Are you here to kill me?" I question, disregarding past memories with the blond and shoving it off the highest of cliffs in my mind. "I— I haven't named the rest of the five things, just let m— let me name the five things and I'll go peacefully. " There is a cry in my throat, my eyes glaring down at the concrete floor in disillusionment.
"She has lost her damn mind." Vance cocks his head to the side, a few strands of his dark hair tumbling by his temples as his brows frown in sorrow. "Aw, you poor thing." He slightly chuckles, utilizing the nook of his finger to lift my chin to his vision. "I'll tell you what, if you let me—," his left palm is on my waist, traveling down to the fabricated tissue of my hips. "—touch you, I won't hurt you."
"Vance," Draco states, a stern tone simmered in his voice. "We are late and we have t—"
"—Draco, step outside for a few minutes." He commands, a malicious smile painting onto the canvas of his face. "I like this one."
"Outside? There is no door, we are outside" The blond states, gesturing his arm at the countless mountains encompassing the numerous cells. "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"
"Go sta— wait." Vance halts, grimacing with a befuddled verbalization plastered onto his face. He shuts the lids of his eyes whilst dragging his fingertips across my ribcage, traveling his digits to my lower abdomen. "You have a secret, don't you?" Vance questions, his eyes piercing through mine— he has left a singular inch of space between us.
I cannot breathe without a whiff of his strong fragrance coursing through my lungs. Cinnamon and tobacco aren't a pleasant blend. "I haven't the slightest clue on what you are talking about."
"Did you think you could grow a fetus without any of us finding out? Who had the pleasure of releasing inside you?" He's smiling and it is the type of grin that paints itself in nightmares— it scares me as if I am running from an enormous beast but my legs are moving in a frustratingly sluggish motion. "We'll have it exterminated."
"Vance, the dark lord has made it very clear that we aren't to be exterminating fetuses," Draco speaks, folding his arms whilst he steps onto the grass, peering his head to the left then to the right, watching for passing individuals. "Population is decreasing, half of the prisoners have killed themselves and we are ru— Jones is gonna walk by, if you don't want to be tased I suggest you hurry up."
My head shakes from side to side, a singular tear escaping the threshold of my waterline. "I am not pregnant, you are lying."
"Don't call me a liar or I will reach in there and pull the damn baby out myself," Vance states, carrying the same smile whilst my heart sinks. An unfathomable measure of thoughts emits from the depths of my brain, recalling information from my previous hook-up. There has not been a moment in which irresponsibly took over my presence. "Anyways, you're too pretty to be of child." His hand is stroking back the sweaty hairs from my frame. "We'll have it exterminat— actually, I have a deal for you."
Draco frowns, "what fucking deal? Vance, we are already behind schedul—"
"—Hello," the man I am assuming is named Jones says. "I assumed you two would be far ahead of the prison line. Have you given her a health check, Thronden?" His voice is raspy, the stubble embedded on his chin is grey, he is aged to what I am guessing is 50 or 60, the wrinkles on the surface of his skin dangles and I'm unsure if I should be afraid.
"Jones, you have come at a perfect time." Vance glances at his figure from a corner chunk of his eye, the wooden stick of his wand sliding from his sleeve to his palm. "I just did her health check and she does seem to have a few problems."
The old man sighs, the yellowed whites of his eyes becoming visible as he rolls them in annoyance. "Oh yeah? What's wrong with the bitc—"
Before Jones obtained the capacity to complete his sentence, Vance had rotated on his heel, jabbing his wand into a segment of the old man's neck. His body thuds onto the concrete floor, blood spilling from the punctured arteries of his neck. The nerves in his body are twitching, trembling— inaudible noises radiate from his damaged throat, bubbles arising in his blood. There's a lump in my throat and it is difficult for me to breathe, the variety in shades of red sickens me to my stomach and I cannot even ponder about the fetus lodged in my uterus— nor can I wrap my head around the solution to my situation.
"Aw, don't worry, princess," Vance speaks, a hand ascending to brush the loose strands by the frame of my face. I hadn't noticed he had turned to me, my eyes were glued to the dead man on the ground. "I won't hurt such a pretty girl like you." His voice is intended to soothe me. Instead— it does the opposite, my heart is hammering out of my chest and my breaths are elongated. "Now, let's make that deal."
My brain is brimmed with fragments of deficient sentences and solutions. There is an inability to think or brew up a statement in the corners of my head; I am in a longing pain— a neverending ache.
"A deal?" I question, my voice trembling in frustration. "I don't want to make a deal with a murderer."
"Ah, I see." Vance continues to present that terrifying smirk. His hands are scrunching the bottom seams of my nightgown, lifting it upward as he reveals a new inch of my skin with every movement. "What if, this murderer, were to offer an inheritance for your child?"
My head shakes rapidly from side to side, "wha— what are you doing?"
"Vance, leave her alone, we have people we need to check and another fucking body to hide." Draco speaks, but Vance doesn't see the worried expression smeared across his face.
"Answer me, do you want to make this deal with me or not?" The frost emanating from his voice does not compare to the chill in his hands as it grazes the bare skin of my waist.
I feel violated— a sensation in which my heart is squeezed beneath the pressurization of his touch. The roughness of his fingers is traveling up the bones of my ribs, tracing his thin nails across the curves of my breast, the thumb brushing against the raw skin of my nipples.
"What is the deal?" I question, my eyes shut tightly in hopes of eliminating the view of my fear shall soften the fearful tension embedded between my nerves.
"We can put your baby in an incubator, you won't have to carry it for 9 months." He explains, disconnecting his touch from my body as his fingers travel down my ribcage. "Your child will grow into the common looks of a 15-year-old in a matter of 3 years due to the rapid maturation system. He or she can have my inheritance and they will live a lavish life but don't worry I'll name it Alexandra if it's a girl and Axel if it's a boy."
A heavy sigh seeps past my teeth, "what do I have to do for that to happen?"
"You will come with me to a lab where I test your blood every day for the next 4 years," Vance eliminates his hold on my nightgown, his hands completely removed from my sensations. "You will be strapped to a table, fed through a tube, and after 4 years I will erase your memory, throw you into another cell, wait a few days, then I will pretend to meet you for the first time. From there I will be your savior and then the future differs depending on the state of your body. Plus, I very much want you."
I don't address why or how he intends to manage me, I don't wish to know. "The incubator, is it safe?"
"I wouldn't be offering it to you if it wasn't," Vance claims, reaching a hand towards my strained face, sliding the nook of a solitary finger down the skin of my left cheek. "What do you say, darling? Is this a deal you wish to make?"
"How much— um, how much is the inheritance?"
He scoffs, steadily inching his head towards mine, brushing the chilly tip of his nose against my bridge. "Are you doubting me? It's 1.2 million, plus an estate on the east island."
"All of that because you want me?" I question, steadily inching my head backward to prevent his lips from collapsing onto mine.
"Love, it is a simple yes or no." He says, disregarding my previous statement, his cinnamon scent immersing my presence further.
I sigh, collecting the broken fragments of my brain to piece together any logical inquiries for the suspicious motive I detect. "Why haven't you asked me who the father is?"
"Well, I just assumed it was a filthy little half-blood but now that you mention it," his fingers are traveling down my shoulder and his free hand has climbed to my waist. "I wouldn't be surprised if an individual of pure status would want you. Why don't you tell me who the fath—"
"—My answer is yes," I say to prevent him from completing his statement. "Yes, I am agreeing to the deal. Age my child to 15, give them your inheritance and let them live a lavish life."
Vance smiles, removing his touch from all areas of my tensed body, releasing the tightened nerves from slices of my muscles. "Good, do you have any requests before I leave?"
"Don't— um, don't tell him or her who I am, I don't want them to know.." I say, my voice hitching whilst weighted tears brim my waterline.
"I wonder what other secrets you have hiding in there." Vance's fingertips gently scrunch the tips of my hair. "I'll come and get you tomorrow, alright?"
"Okay," the threads of my vocal cords nearly snap at the quantity of nerves that are trembling.
Draco observes as Vance steps past his presence. "Her restraints look a little loose, I'll catch up to you in a little bit."
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confused? yeah u should be..
but you can probably piece together the details 😀.