Page 44 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

I t hurts.

It hurts so much.

My legs shake with the effort of keeping my up. My feet keep slicing themselves open on those awful little spikes.

I slump against the sides as best I can, but I can feel the constant pang in my joints where I’m throwing my back out.

My skin is covered in both grime and sweat. All the little nicks where the Priest whipped me have now dried into tiny little scabs that I’m dying to scratch at.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. I don’t know if its hours, days, hell they could have locked me in for a year – only, I realise that can’t be the case because if I’d been there that long, I’d be dead, wouldn’t I? I’d need water, food.

I’d also be up to my knees in shit.

I snort, breathing in the stench of ammonia from where I pissed myself because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I doubt the Priest thought about that, did he? He was too busy being a sanctimonious piece of shit to think about basic human functions.

My stomach churns again, reminding me of the other thing I desperately need.

I don’t want to do it, but I also know that I won’t be able to hold out. Sweat is starting to collect along my forehead, my body feels like it’s heating up from the pressure.

I need to go. I need to relieve myself.

I shut my eyes, trying to imagine if it could get any worse than this, if my husband could do worse than this. I thought handing me around to all his guards would be it, and yet, here we are.

I wince, letting a laugh that feels so out of place.

Those fuckers. Those absolute bastards. I’m going to show them. I don’t know how. I don’t know when, but I swear on my very soul that I will get my revenge.

My stomach churns violently, it feels like my entire bowels shift and then, with horror, I realise what is happening, what I cannot stop.

“No,” I whisper, as the stench hits me, as the feel of it pouring down my thighs, as it slithers between my toes.

Bile rises up so fast, I can’t keep it in, and I wretch, choking up more bodily fluids, turning this tomb into a soup of literal human waste.

It’s disgusting. It’s more than disgusting.

But in my mind, I can imagine what will happen when they open that door.

They think this will humiliate me. They think that this will shame me.

But all of this, all this muck is gonna bubble right out, it’s going to be like tsunami.

I let out a cackle, imagining the disgust on their faces as it covers their shiny floor, as it covers their shoes too.

I’m a mess by the time that door opens.

More than a mess.

I can’t string a sentence together. I can barely stand, let alone walk.

The Priest drags me out, cursing about the disgusting state of me – as if he expected any different outcome.

I’m thrown outside, thrown onto the hard, dirty ground.

The impact jars my back further. I land funny on my wrists and though I know they’re not broken, they absolutely kill.

I force myself up, force myself to my knees and just as I look up, I realise what he’s pointing at me, what he’s aiming right at my face.

Freezing cold water hits me at full pressure. I collapse again from the impact of it but that doesn’t make him stop. He continues to cover me, he continues to all but drown me.

I’m shivering, shaking so violently my teeth are chattering hard enough that I think my jaw might shatter.

When the tsunami finally stops, the silence that follows is deafening.

The Priest doesn’t even bother to dry me, he just hauls me up, dragging me by my sopping wet hair and parades me naked through the Palace, through all those halls and staircases, past every watchful, every leering guard, and back to Gunther’s suite.