Page 113 of Degradation

“Are you even listening to me?” He snaps.

I blink, looking at him, seeing that same twisted anger our father used to have.

“I need to get out of here.” I state. “I need to get to Paitlyn.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. The wrong fucking thing. I’m not thinking straight, I’m not thinking rationally at all. My mind feels like it’s whirling. I feel like the entire world is spinning around me and I need it to stop. I need everything to just fucking stop.

I need to get to her. I have to get to her. I’m going to make her pay for what she’s done.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Magnus replies. “Paitlyn is gone.”

“Gone?” I repeat. What the fuck does that mean? Has someone taken her? Has she been sent to our Grand Master? She’s a Founder, do different rules apply to them?

His hand slaps my face again and I growl at him this time. I swear to God if he does it again I’ll bite his fucking fingers off.

“Forget the damned girl.” He spits. “She’s a whore. A useless, good for nothing whore. You need to focus on our family right now. Focus on sorting your head out.”

“I need Paitlyn.”

“She’s dead, Devin. The bitch is dead.”

Dead? No. No she can’t be. They wouldn’t have killed her, they wouldn’t have.

I start thrashing, start losing control. It feels like the entire world opens up beneath me and I’m falling through, falling into the abyss beyond.

“Malkta.” The name slips past my lips. It feels like a curse now. Perhaps it always was and I just didn’t realise it.

The door smashes open. Two men come rushing in. They’re dressed in white tunics. White to match the walls. White to match the jacket. White to match the colourless nothing left now that she is gone.

One of them jabs at me. I try to jerk away but I’m lopsided without my arms and I fall face first into the stupid cushioned floor. A sting flicks against my neck and I know what they’re doing, what this is.

“No.” I growl. “No.”

If they drug me, then I can’t get out. If they drug me then I can’t get to her.

Dead. She’s dead.

I don’t fucking believe it. I won’t believe it. Not until I see her body, not until I see her rotting fucking corpse.

My anger fizzles out. My emotions flatline. I slump over, roll over, stare up at the ceiling and realise that’s cushioned too but it’s so high up I doubt anyone could even reach it. Are they worried we might fly? We might rise up and escape through the rafters?

A face peers over me. It’s fuzzy. Hard. Fuzzy hard, and I know it’s my brother. That the bastard is still here, watching this, witnessing this, allowing this to happen.

“Get well, brother.” He says as if he gives a shit about my wellbeing.

“Pait…” I can’t even speak her name. can’t even form the syllables. My mouth refuses to work. My throat is locked up tighter than Oblivion.

“She’s dead.” Magnus states. “Dead or as good as.”

Pailtyn

The darkness breathes around me, thick and suffocating, pressing against my skin like sopping wet velvet.

I can’t remember how long I’ve been here, minutes, hours, a lifetime? It’s all become meaningless. Time is a concept that dissolved along with everything else I thought I knew about reality.

My throat burns. It feels like I’ve been swallowing shards of glass.

Have I been screaming?