19
Kaya’s POV.
There’s no fighting this. There’s no happy ending at the climax of it. Anyone can see it. I’m not in a fairy tale story made by somebody with some fantastic imagination, writing at the end of it a comedy.
This is my life, one that I’ve been in for weeks now, and there hasn’t been any ease shimmering over me.
I am a witch who’s cursed because of her kind of breed and not only fated to be treated with torture by some three werewolves who are triplets but also find herself not being able to control how she feels when she’s close to them.
She is simply ruined. That’s my life. That’s me. That’s Kaya, a little thing, a toy captured by the triplets, meant to live in pain for the rest of my life.
My body almost gives up from the constant tugging, but I hurry to catch up, recalling how painful the whipping was a few minutes ago.
“You’re even gentle on her.” One of the girls pouts because she hasn’t been allowed to drag me by the leash for some time now; the other one enjoys having me dragged by my neck around her.
I can’t cry because it won’t help anything, but I am very tired. I’ve never felt worthless or powerless in my life. I’ve come to realize that my ancestors have forgotten me in this pain.
I wish my mother was still alive.
Kyle and the ladies keep talking over some things that I can’t make sense of.
I turn my head to the ground when he glances over to my side, not wanting to be punished again. My brain is heightened to always think of what to do in every situation because if I made a mistake, I’d be in trouble.
The sound of horses whining makes me smile hard on the inside, happy that these two snakes are about to leave.
“We’ve missed you at Aisle. Are you guys coming back soon?
“Don’t push past the buttons, girls.” When Kyle states in a tight voice, the girls nod their heads and enter the carriage.
As they leave, I wonder what they could have meant by “Aisle,” as to me, it sounded like a place. My mind is soon brushed off of it when Kyle turns back towards the path to the room.
I follow his trail, not whimpering a sound even when I’m in excruciating pain. The leash is now on the ground, being dragged as I walk with the collar still attached to my neck, and it feels much heavier. I can’t explain it, but it affects my shoulders.
Damn me for being too feeble.
Not long after, we arrive back in their room, and my eyes pick up a glance at the mat before I stop when Kyle stops walking as well.
A few inches away, I’d have hit him. In a haste, I step backwards just when he turns to face me.
“Come here...” His voice trails off, and his fingers are gesturing for me to proceed. I do as he commands, stopping in front of him. I can feel the heat of his body as he places his hand on the collar.
And like before, I cannot control how my body reacts to him. The effect is overwhelming; the scent of his presence intoxicates my senses, and when he unlocks the collar, my lips practically release an inaudible moan.
“Do you want to know what makes you weak?” He asks as he wraps his hand around my neck, lightly gripping it like he could just snap my neck into two.
“Yes.” I find myself responding before I can think appropriately. “Yes, master.” Correcting myself, he finds it amusing as a grin creeps up his face.
“You fail at a lot of things. Starting with, you cannot control your own feelings. Your body feels pain, empathy, and sensations that you can’t correct or, rather, not wish for. When we access your thoughts earlier, you can easily get aroused by us. You’re weakened by everything that comes your way.” His hands go up to my hair to brush it before he takes them up to his nostrils to take a sniff.
“Not only that, but you’re like an open book, unable to clarify any sense of authority to your opponents.” He seems to have a lot of opinions about being a sadist like he is, not having any emotion to show up.
Looking down, he stops me by placing his finger under my jaw. “Do you have something to say, perhaps an objection?”
“I am not weak because of what or who I am; it’s because of the people that surround me.”
“You’re in a world where weakness is not tolerated. Did your parents not teach you that?” He speaks with no sympathy, even though he knows that he’s the main reason why I lost my parents.
If my memory serves me well, he’s the one who orders the guards to bring me, being beautiful, yet I am here, treated like a rag, and my skin is coarse from bumps and malnutrition.
“You’re the reason they are dead.” I speak out loud before I can control my tongue.
My eyes grow big, scared he’d punish me once again, but he did not even shake. Instead, he laughs.
“Don’t be frightened. I allow you the chance to speak freely, so please do.” Okay, what’s up with this particular situation?
I blink blankly at him, unable to hide my surprise. He seems serious, which is something I’ve never seen him do before.
“Tell me more.”
“What?” My brows raise.
“Tell me more about your situation.”
A frown creeps up my face, as I am uncertain if he’s being seriously serious or teasingly serious. “Can I ask a question?” Either way, I’m mustering enough courage to question him.
He laughs yet again, his fingers scrubbing his eyeslids in a light squeeze. “Of course.”
“Have you guys ever imagined yourself being me? Ever thought of the pain that I pass through each day?” As I ask, he pauses like he wasn’t expecting such a quiz from me, his lips releasing a soft whizzing sound.
“Never.”
I am taken aback, not expecting him to be an expert at being blunt or plain.
Unable to talk any further, silence crawls in. My thoughts, however, splinter into sprinkles, muttering different objections within me. Now I understand why there’s no sympathy in their eyes; it’s because there’s no reason for them to want to stop.
Kyle’s finger touches the mark on my neck, then my shoulder, where he makes an “hm” sound. “You should go to a clinic and have yourself treated. Those shoulders are weak.”
“Why do you care? Why do any of you?”
“I don’t, and neither do my brothers. But if you want to remain in pain, fine. Trust me, as a witch, this can’t kill you, so it’s better to get it treated. It’s better to be alive and in no pain. Either way you choose, you’re still a slave and shall perform your everyday requirements.” He turns away from me after he spews, walking over to the bed.
My next words stop him. I sniffle, thinking this is a chance for me to let him understand my pain; perhaps then the suffering can lessen or stop at might...or whatever happens, I am not thinking it through.
“I’m a living being, not just a witch. I have feelings, just like everyone else does. I bleed, and there’s nothing wrong with having sympathy or with emotions that make me feel affectionate. It’s just who I am, and it’s what makes me know what’s right and what’s wrong. It strengthens my mind. It strengthens my will, and one day, when I have my powers, I will destroy each of you.” After I claim, my breathing is exhausted.
He scoffs, his sight on me once again. “Your mind, your will of affection, your being a being,” he adds that into a quotation with his fingers, “who you are, can they save you from this?”
Nothing could have prepared me for his next motive: his hand grabbing my shoulder and dislocating it from its joint.
Everything happened within a blink of an eye: my face reddening from the pain, my eyes popping out, my breathing seizing for a second, just before I screamed out loud as my legs gave up and I fell on my knees.
“Since you have a lot of pain to vent, you can scream it all out.”
That’s the last thing my hearing picks up before my eye closes, succumbing to darkness.