Page 57

DELILAH

K ane is a fucking idiot. I knew he was crazy, since he decided to pretend to be his brother, but he’s also stupid. His attempt at locking me away didn’t factor in that the door opens into the bathroom. I push my shoulder against the heavy wooden dresser to get it to move.

If he leaves me here, I’ll kill him.

The dresser rocks as I try to slide it forward, so I stop and shout, “Kane! Come back!”

I’m not staying here with his crazy grandmother.

Somehow, that’s worse than the fact he left me to burn to death.

He’s the lesser of two evils, but their steps get further away, and I stare at the dresser like I can find another way to move it without toppling it over.

My grandparents always hated if I made noise.

They’d force me into piano practice for hours as a punishment, so if they hear me destroying this room, they’ll do it again.

The dresser comes up to my shoulders and I silently laugh to myself as I remember the game Scarlet created.

She was always the weirdo, but at least her strange games come into use as I flatten my back against the door jamb then plant my feet on the opposite side.

I can almost hear her saying, “Just like a spider, or do you want to be a little princess locked away forever?” as I climb up the inside of the doorframe.

I reach the top and place my knee on the wooden surface, only for it to rock.

I have to latch onto the top of the doorframe so tightly that the tips of my fingers hurt.

There’s nothing I can use for leverage to stop it falling if I slide off it so I grit my teeth, wincing as I jump.

The loud thud makes me cringe and I freeze in anticipation of my grandparents barging into the room to drag me out by my hair.

The door doesn’t fly open though, which doesn’t ease me as I walk with my heart in my throat to slowly crack the door open.

Kane’s low voice floats up, but it’s too far away for me to make out what he’s saying, so I keep walking.

The hallway is even darker now that the sun is beginning to set. He booms, “Fuck you!”

It’s immediately followed by a crack, then a muffled scream filled with pain.

I nearly trip over my own feet as I run towards the sound of his voice, only to abruptly stop at the top of the staircase with my fingers wrapped around the metal handrail to prevent me from falling, because the sight in front of me is barbaric.

The crack comes again as his grandmother takes a step back, flicking her wrist to weave a bullwhip through the air. I flinch at the crack before I can register that the tail has hit Kane’s shoulder. He turns, attempting to avoid it, but she continues walking backwards to gain better leverage.

Anna, my nanny who was the only kind person in my house, doesn’t open her fucking mouth as Kane hisses. In his attempt to catch the braided leather, it wraps around his wrist, leaving an angry red mark behind.

“Will you disobey me again?” Helene asks without any emotion, the sadistic cunt.

She pulls her hand back, dragging Kane with her, and I shout, “Leave him alone, you stupid bitch!”

Kane’s back tenses and he stands taller at the sound of my voice, whereas Helene smiles.

Anna is a senseless void that continues to stare at the air directly in front of her.

The old bitch doesn’t look away from me as she tightens her hold on the whip, while the staircase rattles beneath my feet as I rush down the steps.

I slip when she pulls her arm back. Kane plants his feet, lifts his chin, and holds his breath as the whip fluidly moves through the air, only to strike him.

“STOP!” I scream, stumbling down the last few steps, falling against his back.

The whip strikes the back of my fingers and I whimper into him. They feel like they’re broken and burn while he already has lashes on his skin. He abruptly turns, giving her his back, then grabs my wrists to push me up the stairs.

Helene drags the whip across the dirty floor, making lines through the dust as she offers, “You may take his place.”

My lips part, ready to say yes but Kane grits, “Fucking do it. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Tears well in my eyes as he looks down at me, his fingers unyielding and keeping me trapped by his body.

So much so that I can’t even see his evil cunt of a grandmother as he pulls my arms further apart so that my hands are on each side of the railing of the spiral staircase while Helene uses more force.

The whip is faster, louder, the air parting before the crack of the leather tears into Kane’s back.

“Let me go,” I say, my voice full of resolve as I twist my hands.

He just shakes his head despite the sweat beading at his hairline, his face turning red as he bites back the scream building in his chest. He slowly shakes his head again as I continue fighting to free myself, wincing at every strike and holding my wrists so tightly that I’m going to have bruises as soon as he lets go.

I hide against his chest, resting my cheek directly over his heart, feeling every single jolt against his body and he limply rests his lips on my crown.

“Hold my wrists,” he whispers, “my pretty girl.”

Screwing my eyes shut, I thread my fingers through his and flinch as I count the cracks of the whip in my head.

One.

Kane shakes against me.

Two.

I can feel the edge of his nose pressing flat against my skull.

Three.

The tremors get worse.

Four.

He softly whimpers.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

My own tears slip out as I begin shaking.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

He sags against me.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

I’m smothered against his chest and I try to pull my fingers free from his to stop him falling.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-five.

Something wet drips against my hair, seeping into my scalp.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-ei ? —

“STOP!” I scream, unable to take it. “Just fucking stop!”

My voice fractures into a sob but there’s no further cracks or jolts from Kane’s body. He loses the energy to hold my hands hostage and I quickly hold his sides as he stumbles forward, sweat coating his skin.

Helene doesn’t say anything, but I can finally see her when Kane falls forward, slapping out at the handrail to keep his weight off me.

She’s an arrogant fucking twat as she turns, dropping the bullwhip on the floor.

Anna follows her with her chin tucked to her chest. I scream at her retreating back, “You’re a fucking coward!

You could have stopped her! Instead you just stood there, and now you’re following her! ”

My shoulder is dragged down as Kane leans against me and my anger takes over at the sight of the blood dripping down his back, soaking into his sweats.

“Fuck you! You pathetic fucking cunt!”

He weakly laughs, barely disturbing the air. “Eloquent.” He’s already breathless, bloody, and beaten.

“Come on,” I whisper, turning to support him, then gently place his arm over my shoulders.

I can’t wrap my arm around his waist, so I place my hand on his abs as he drags himself up the stairs. I remain on the step behind him as he sways on his feet, stopping on the second tread.

“It’s okay, baby.” The endearment slips out due to habit. Thankfully he’s too focused on staying on his feet that he doesn’t acknowledge it as I place one foot beside his to help him make it up the next step.

By some miracle, I manage to get him to the top of the stairs while a trail of blood follows us to the room. He leans into the wall, gritting, “Don’t hold me.”

“Stop being an idiot,” I hiss back.

He reluctantly allows me to get him inside and weakly laughs when he sees the open bathroom door over the top of the dresser. “Shit, I didn’t think you’d climb over it.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” I whisper as I sit him on the bed.

I grimace at the sight of the deep cuts marking his back as he rolls onto his stomach.

He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths like he’s trying not to throw up.

If any of the dirt covering his wet sweats gets inside the cuts they’ll get infected, so I carefully kneel beside him and push my fingers into the hem.

A pained whimper vibrates through the room.

He sounds younger, scared and begging, “Don’t do it. Please, not again.”

I kiss his shoulder between the raw lash marks as I softly say, “Kane, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Delilah?”

“Yeah, who else would it be?”

His eyes snap open, full of desolation as he winces, checking the room. The setting shouldn’t make him relax, but he does while whispering to himself, “I’m not there.”

“Where?” I ask, equally low, only to be ignored.

But he doesn’t stop me from removing his sweats this time.

I stare at the dried blood on the back of his thighs.

The edges of each small hole are covered in it.

I recognize them. I know they’ll heal to be invisible, like my own, but he shouldn’t have them.

Some of the thin needles have torn through his skin where they were embedded and I gently ghost the tip of my finger over them.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps weakly.

“How did it happen?”

I already know the cause, but he should never have been subjected to my grandparents’ version of piano lessons.

Just like when he was hiding his identity, he reverts back to having a different conversation as he whispers, “Every ninety days for ten years. Some days they’d let me out.

I never knew who I could trust. Were the same people in the yard the ones who were visiting me on the ninetieth day? Or did they know my face?”

“They’d make you sit on a piano bench?”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “I couldn’t sit down.”

“How did this happen?” I lightly press my fingers to the back of his thighs, and he limply lifts his head to look at me.

“I promised to make it better for you.”

My throat constricts at the loss in his eyes. Even his blinks are slow like he doesn’t have the energy to do it. So I don’t force him to keep talking or hate him in this moment. He’s the Kane I loved, the one who was invisible and drowning in isolation from the rest of his family.

He tenses when I try to remove his boxers, so I leave them on before I go to the bathroom and wet as many hand towels as I can find in the cupboard under the sink, leaving two of them dry to clean my hands with.

He hasn’t moved when I get back to him. I fold one of the wet towels into a thin rectangle then gently lay it over his nape, where there are the least amount of lashes.

The whip mark running across the back of my fingers stings as I flatten a towel over the back of each of his thighs.

The thin needle points always burn, and the only thing that would soothe them is laying in cold, shallow water.

I can’t put Kane in the bathtub due to his back, but this is the next best thing, and it must work because his breathing is easier.

We both remain silent as I clean my hands then put on a pair of gloves. The medical kit doesn’t have enough gauze to cover his entire back, so I’ll have to find something to make a dressing for him once I’ve cleaned the lacerations.

I take out the sterile wipes, wincing as I attempt to avoid any open skin. He just murmurs in pain and tenses, pushing more blood out of the cuts.

“I know it hurts. Relax for me, baby.”

Fuck. I always used to call him baby when he wasn’t a crazy fucker.

Thankfully, he doesn’t draw attention to my second slip up as he stretches his hand out to hold my thigh.

I drop down, sitting cross-legged beside him, so he can wrap his fingers around my thigh instead of crushing them while I was kneeling.

His limbs get heavier as I move around his back, cleaning the blood off his skin, and he falls asleep even though his fingers are digging into my thigh.