Page 66 of Degradation

Nothing but silence greets us. Yes, there’s a guard on the door, one of the skinnier ones. I can’t look at him, can’t meet his gaze. I know he was one of them, we all do. But to see, to stare into those eyes and relive that moment – no. I can’t. I can’t.

I clench my fists, swallowing down the wail before it becomes anything recognisable and I straighten my spine, straighten my body.

They have not beaten me yet. They have not beaten me.

“That’s it.” Ada says, as if she can read my mind, as if she understands the whirl of thoughts already tormenting me.

We make it out to the great winding staircase, and I feel more exposed than ever. My arms huddle about my body, all that confidence I had seems to whittle away as it feels like a dozen guards clock sight of me.

A vision, an awful flashback hits me, and I can see it, I can feel like, I can smell it, all of them around me, hurting me, abusing me, using me.

I tremble, I whimper, and I have no idea how on earth I’m still standing.

Kora pushes me on, pushes me past. “We’ll take the side entrance.” She says quietly, leading me on, forcing me to move.

The courtyard garden is small, with a quaint bench and a few trees that provide a canopy of leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

As we take a place on the stone bench, none of us talk. I can hear birds, far off in the distance and it feels like they’re calling to me, whispering, telling me that there is still a world out there, a place that is far from here, a place where Gunther can’t reach.

I smile with the notion of it, even though I know that’s a fallacy. The Brethren are everywhere. They control everything. They don’t forgive and they don’t forget.

Even if I were to somehow escape, even if I could magic myself out from these high stone walls, there is nowhere I can go, nowhere I can escape to.

My only hope is death. That’s the sinking conclusion that I’m coming to. Either mine or Gunther’s, I guess it doesn’t really matter which, but one of us has to die.

I glance down at my hands, wondering if I have the balls to do it. To take a life is a sin. But then, everything else I’ve done since I’ve entered this place has been a sin too, so what’s one more to the list?

I shut my eyes, silently praying that there’s another answer but I know that this is it. This is the choice. Kill or be killed. Continue to be a victim or finally be brave enough to fight back.

Pailtyn

Kora was right, being in the sunshine helps. The warmth soothes and, if I close my eyes and pretend hard enough, I can imagine what it will be like when I am a widow. When Gunther is dead, and I am free.

God, please let that be the outcome, let that be my fate. I’ll retire from the world, I’ll become a hermit, a recluse, and I’ll never have to smile and pretend and do anything I don’t want to ever again.

I’ve been coming here every day for the last week. It’s not like I have anything else to do. Gunther has ignored me this entire time, he hasn’t touched me once. Maybe he’s just waiting untilI’m fully recovered before he brutalises me again, but the waiting is killing me. It’s like a new form of torture when all I want to do is welcome the brittle peace while I have it.

My maids give me a little space when we’re here, walking the perimeter, allowing me to disappear into my own head with no pressure to engage them in conversation. It’s a tiny bit of something that I treasure so so much.

But as I turn to pick up the book Ada leant me, I see Guthrie standing in the gateway. My heart races, and I glance around nervously, expecting Gunther to appear at any moment.

Only, he’s not there.

I haven’t seen Guthrie since the night he woke me up, and I’m certain Gunther has kept him busy on that mysterious task.

In the daylight, I can make out his features better. He really does look like Gunther, but he’s more grotesque, more disgusting. It’s as if he’s a twisted caricature of his brother.

He saunters over like he’s some sort of Casanova and he plonks himself right beside me. My nerves spike, my heart starts to beat faster.

“What, what do you want?” I stammer.

Kora and Ada are nearby, so I’m technically not alone, but they’re out of earshot, and besides, they don’t hold any power here.

He runs his eyes over me in such a predatory way, and it turns my stomach.

“I missed your pretty face.” He says, like he’s known me for years.

I blink back, unsure how to reply. We both know what my husband said all those nights ago. But right now, Guthrie feels like a cannon about to go off.