Page 60 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

M y husband fucks me that night. I think he hurts me more to prove a point.

In the morning, I get my period again and for that heinous crime, I’m once again locked in that freezing cold outbuilding.

Chained up. Left to starve and bleed for six days and this time it’s so much more haunting, more horrific because I can’t see a thing, I’m surrounded by darkness, and the creaking of the wood, and the constant sounds of what feels like monsters trying to get in, trying to devour me.

By the time the final day comes, I’m a mess. I think I’m hallucinating from the cold because it’s winter now, snow is on the ground and yet, I had nothing but a shift dress on.

When Ada and the new maid come to get me out, I can’t stop shaking. I can barely stand and the cold water they have to wash me down and purify me with does nothing to help me get warm.

They half carry me, half drag me back into the Palace, back past all those faceless guards I know are there. It takes forever to get up the stairs. My feet smack against every single one and though I know I should feel the pain of it, I don’t feel a thing, and that alarms me more than anything.

They manage to get me into the bed and wrap the blankets around me and still, I can’t get warm. I can’t stop shaking.

“Get her some hot chocolate.” Ada says.

The new girl nods before disappearing off.

Ada kneels down on the carpet and starts running her hands up and down my curled-up body, trying to create friction.

“You’ll be okay.” She says quietly. “You just need to warm up.”

I can’t reply. My teeth won’t stop chattering enough to let me say one word.

I gulp down the drink when it comes. The sugar helps, though I wonder if, after days of nothing but water and stale bread, that might be a mistake. It warms my belly as it settles there, but still, my feet are so so cold. My hands are like useless blocks of ice.

As the hours seem to pass, I don’t get better.

Gunther waltz in, mutters about something under his breath and as he climbs into the bed beside me, I can do nothing but grit my teeth and endure his wandering hands.

I wonder whether my chattering is turning him on? Is the sound of my literal bones jarring against one another that sexy to him?

He pushes two fingers inside me, and I yelp with the pain.

“Jesus,” He snarls. “Even your cunt is cold.”

He yanks them back out, before throwing the duvet off us both while I mentally try to prepare for another beating.

“Useless bitch.” He states while shuffling around the room, picking up things, rifling through various objects. As he slides the door open and bellows for the servants, I realise what’s happening.

He’s not going to beat me. He’s leaving, packing his things, going to sleep somewhere else.

I can’t even feel the joy I should. I can’t even celebrate that fact because I feel too numb, too cold, to feel anything,

When the servants appear, they must take one look at me and see something is seriously wrong, because they ask if they should summon a doctor.

“No.” Gunther replies. “Leave the bitch as she is, if she dies, she dies. It is God’s will.”

God’s will.

It was God’s will that I married this man. God’s will that I apparently suffer all of this abuse.

When will God finally be done with me?

When will he finally decide that I have endured enough, that I have gone through enough, that I’m worthy enough now to enter his kingdom and leave this cursed world forever?