Page 105 of Degradation

She has to live. She has to.

I stay there, on my knees for what feels like hours. Her chest is barely rising, her body still looks so impossibly pale but eventually it feels like it might be making a difference, like she might be rallying, if only a tiny bit.

I pull the blanket further around her, turning it into a cocoon and then, reluctantly I shift away. The fluids will help get her vitals up, but we need to get her core body temperature higher, and this duvet isn’t doing it.

I grab the logs, tossing them into the dark, dirty hole. I haven’t made a fire in years, why would I need to when I have enough servants to do that shit for me? As the flames start to catch, I move back, move to where she is.

She’s shifting a little, like she’s trying to wake up. She still looks weak but that has to be a good sign.

“Hey,” I murmur, sweeping the hair from her forehead.

Her mouth twitches with the hint of a smile.

I scoop her back up, holding her in my lap with my one arm and in my other hand I squeeze that fluid bag, keeping the pressure on, and the entire time my eyes are on her face, practically daring her to defy me, daring her to even think of giving up now.

Pailtyn

That pounding in my head seems to ease. That awful ache inside every single one of my bones seems to calm down, seems to soften.

I know he’s holding me. I know he has me.

I can feel the heat of the fire and I can see the flicker of the flames as the light dances across the room.

The entire time, I know he hasn’t taken his eyes from me. It’s unnerving. It’s intimate. It makes me feel so vulnerable, makes me feel like all those carefully built walls that I’ve constructed to try and protect myself are now gone. That he’s destroyed them.

He’s stroking my face. Acting like I’m something precious. Something of worth.

I don’t understand this behaviour. I don’t understand what this is.

He’s a monster. A fucking monster.

“Devin…” I whisper his name and his entire body reacts. Those devilish limbs that I swore would devour me, somehow, they soften.

“I’m getting you out of here.” He says quietly.

“What?” I must have misheard him. I have to have.

He tightens his grip, and he lowers his mouth to my ear. “I’m going to stop this. I’m going end this. You’ll never have to endure his beatings, endure his abuse, any of it again.”

Am I hallucinating? Am I as crazy as the rest of them clearly are?

“When?” I shouldn’t sound as hopeful as I do. I shouldn’t sound as desperate either.

“Soon. Really soon. I need to put some things into place. I need to ensure no one can find us afterwards. That we’re safe.”

“Us?” Surely, he’s not saying what I think he’s saying? Surely, he’s not suggesting…

“Us.” He growls back. “I’m not leaving you, not losing you. Once we’re free from here, once we’re free from the Brethren, then you and I can be together. You and I…” He pauses like he doesn’t know how to articulate the words, the feelings, any of it. “I love you, Paitlyn. Do you understand that? I fucking love you.”

I gulp, hearing the anger, the frustration and more than anything, the pain in his voice.

But this man doesn’t have a clue what love is. No one does the things he’s done to me if he were capable of feelings like love.

Anger rages through me at the thought that he thinks we can be together, that we can what, skip off into the sunset? Aftereverything he’s done to me, everything he’s allowed to happen too.

I don’t want his love. I don’t need it.

I don’t say that though, I don’t voice it. This could be my chance; this could be the moment I’ve been praying for.