Page 109 of Degradation

As my fingers touch it, I fall backwards, realising with horror what it is. Blood. So much blood.

Panic overwhelms me. Adrenaline makes my heart explode as I frantically try to find the source. What if it’s Devin, what if they’ve found him, realised what he was doing, and they killed him?

No, they wouldn’t just kill him. They’d make an example of him, an example of us. That thought doesn’t give me any comfort.

My hands find something solid, something big.

And then that stench hits me, that familiar, overwhelming, stench that I know only too well.

I scream with horror as I realise it’s Gunther. He’s laying there, unmoving, with what feels like a dagger buried into his stomach right up to the hilt.

I tap his face, try to rouse him, but he doesn’t react. I place my fingers on his neck trying to find a pulse and there’s nothing. Not even a murmur.

My hands tighten around the dagger, around the coarse fabric of the handle. I know that detail, I know that blade. It’s Devin’s dagger. It’s the same one he used on me; the same one I tried to kill myself with.

God, did he do this? Did he kill Gunther? Is this what he meant by getting me out?

I tremble, collapsing beside the man I was forced to marry. The man who’s lying dead in a pool of his own blood.

Devin killed him. He must have done.

As footsteps start clamouring towards me, I stay where I am, paralysed by my horror and my disbelief.

Devin did this. He killed Gunther. He killed him for me.

I shake my head, coming to my senses far too fucking late.

The sounds of footsteps, of guards fill the space. I know guns are now pointed at me as they realise what is happening.

No. No. It can’t end like this. It can’t.

They’re going to take me to Oblivion, they’re going to hurt me more, torture me. God, what is the sentence for killing a Chapter Lord? My tears stream down my face as I realise everything I’ve endured up until now will be paradise compared to that place.

But if I can make them angry, if I can somehow get them to kill me now…

“It was me.” I hiss. “I did it. I killed him.”

I hear the footsteps as Devin pushes his way through, and I panic. I lose complete and utter control.

“He deserved to die.” I spit. “He deserved it for what he did to me.” I realise the blade is still in my hand and I bring it to my throat. Maybe I don’t need them to do it, maybe I can see it done. A throat is better than wrists right. A throat bleeds out far faster.

“I’d rather die than let that man touch me again.” I snarl. “I’d rather die than let any of your arseholes touch me again.”

I drag it quickly, feeling as it starts to slice my skin with a pain I welcome in my very soul. But the guards nearest spring on top of me, they grab at the blade and though I’m able to stab at one of them, another is there, yanking my arm back, forcing it from my hand.

I scream, I kick out. The cut at my neck isn’t nearly deep enough to do any real damage. I’d have done a better job if I’d simply buried the thing in my heart. God, why didn’t I do that?

Someone punches me hard enough to momentarily knock me out. My arms are wrenched back. My legs scrape along the ground and, as they start to drag me away and I hear Devin lose control entirely.

Pailtyn

It’s freezing cold. Pitch black.

All I can hear is the distant sound of someone screaming.

Oh, I know where I am. Where I’ve been taken too.

I used to think this place was the worst nightmare I could imagine but after Gunther, I’m not so sure.