Page 10

Aurelia

After a heavy conversation with Noir about how she ended up at Oddity and how everything unfolded, then watching her leave here for a while, I find myself outside Blush’s trailer door. I hover for a second, hand raised, hesitating to knock because Noir’s words keep echoing in my head.

“So tell me about your life. Where have you been and how did you end up here”

I almost told her everything. It was on the tip of my tongue. But I knew it’d blow everything I’ve been planning. It would stop her from leaving and stop all of this from moving the way I need it to.

Lucky for me, Hell called her from the bottom of the stairs before it slipped, and I brushed her off fast by saying Hell’s waiting. Go.

One day, when she’s back, I’ll tell her everything and by then I’m hoping it’ll all be over. The weight on my chest, this constant pressure of hatred and rage—it has to go. It has to end. Because if it doesn’t, I will.

There’s five of them on my list. The man I thought loved me—Gray. My three foster brothers—Zye, Elias, and Lake. And last, the woman who shat them out, Iris.

My life was a fucking lie. At least, from what Ithinkit was. I still don’t know the full picture. One minute I’m the barefoot slave for a family dripping in wealth, the next I’m realizing none of it made sense.

I don’t even know why I was fostered because I was never treated like family. Maybe that was the point. Maybe I was brought in just to be the fucking slave girl and amusement.

Punishments were brutal. No Freedom. No love. Just pain and abuse.

My foster mother, and I say that with venom in my throat, was a wicked bitch. Cold hands, but even colder eyes. Nothing I did was ever right. And those boys? Born from her rotted womb, they were moulded into the same monsters.

The boys used to bully, beat, starve, and pick at me like I was nothing, as if hurting me was a game they couldn’t get enough of. Any opportunity they had, they took it. But their mother gave them one rule. One fucking line they weren’t supposed to cross. They weren’t allowed to touch me intimately.

As I got older, things shifted and got much darker. Zye, the oldest of the three, changed the most. His weird behavior morphed into something else entirely. Something sick and controlling.

He decided what I ate, when I ate it. Even if that meant being naked and eating it off his polished fucking shoe while he stared down at me. He chose what I wore and decided when I was allowed to speak.

I was his, in some fucked-up way, even when I never wanted to be. A pawn he liked to parade around when no one was looking.

He never had to touch me to violate me, his vile stare and actions did more than hands ever could. He’d stand there, getting off on the sight like I was some private fucking show made just for him. Every chance he got, he’d jerk himself off red raw, watching me like I already belonged to him.

He’d bring women in and violently rape them like he was raping me, eyes locked on mine, feeding off the permanent horror he was carving into their bodies. Every scream was a performance for me. Every crack of bone, every plea, every sob was meant to burn into my brain.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop it. I was collared like some useless fucking animal, while they were destroyed in front of me. And he made sure I knew; this wasn’t just violence. This was a message, and I was the reason they were suffering. And for a long time, it stayed with me, and I really did think it was my fault.

His brothers were just a demented, but they weren’t as bad as him. Well, not until that night.

And then Gray happened.

One of Lake’s acquaintances.

He showed up for a family birthday for the first time some months prior, all casual in that mansion like he never belonged there. But the moment he looked at me from a distance as I hid around a corner, something shifted into place. He looked at me not as the slave girl or the property of that fucked-up family, but as someone real and for a second, I thought he was my way out.

But I was so fucking wrong.

My eyes sting, vision blurring as I stare ahead, lost in it. I remember how we’d plan little escapes, just the two of us, stealing a few hours where I felt like I could finally breathe. Like I was free. He made me believe it and he promisedhe’d get me out of there. He fucking promised with those same lips he used to kiss the bruises he never asked about.

I was stupid. I should’ve known better. I was just so desperate. Yet I was just part of a game so messed-up, I didn’t even know I was playing until it was too late.

But that was then.

I won’t make those mistakes twice, and they won’t get the chance to either. Because Arabella’s not some vulnerable little girl anymore. She’s about to rise from the fucking dead. And this time she’s dragging them all to hell with her.

I sniff, dragging myself back into the present, wiping the tears off my cheeks with both palms like they’ve got no right being there.

My eyes shift back to the trailer door reminding myself that Blush told me to swing by so she could trim the dead ends off my hair. She said it looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, and she’s not wrong.

Truth is, I don’t want to go back to that cold, empty trailer anyway. Not yet. It’s too early, and I’ve got too much rattling in my skull. I might as well kill some time.

Once knocking, the door swings open and Blush greets me with that infectious smile of hers, dressed in obnoxiously cute pink and black PJs, the sound of gritty rock music pouring out behind her.

“God, it’s freezing! Get the fuck in here,” she barks, waving her hand like I’m letting the heat escape.

I walk up the short stairs and step into what looks like a fever dream of cotton candy and glitter bombs. Everything is soft, pink, over-the-top girly.

“Jesus, it’s like Barbie took a dump in here,” I joke with a smirk.

Blush just laughs, unfazed since we’ve been bantering back and forth all day while she trained me. She grabs my wrist and yanks me toward the back, dragging me through the plush chaos into her bedroom. Once inside, she lets go and points toward the chair in front of her mirror like she owns me.

I pull my hoodie over my head, leaving me a crop top and toss it aside before dropping into the chair and meeting her pink eyes in the mirror.

“So,” she says, running her fingers through the ends of my hair, “how much are we chopping off?”

“Not a lot. Just enough to get it back to healthy.”

“Hmm,” she hums, holding a couple inches between her fingers, sizing it up with that focused glint in her eyes. “How about this much?”

I nod, slow but sure. “Yeah, that works.”

She grins like she’s been waiting to do this since she saw me, already buzzing around her vanity grabbing scissors, a comb, clips, whatever else she’s got hidden in her arsenal.

“So, Noir and Hell are gone now?” she says casually as she starts brushing through my hair, smoothing out the tangles.

“Yeah,” I answer, watching her in the mirror. “They just left.”

“You did good today. I mean, personally, I think you’re gonna be fine. You’ve got that sharp edge, and you pick up fast. Is there anything in particular you want to try?”

My mind drifts back to a rare memory—a time I actually saw a show. Just once, when I was younger. Iris had dragged me along, which was unusual in itself.

We watched a girl perform ballet on stage. She wore an outfit a lot like mine, but all black, right down to the shoes. She was beautiful. And so was the dancing—haunting and graceful in a way that made everything around her feel still.

After that day, I tried to teach myself in secret, copying the movements when no one was watching. But like most beautiful things in my life, it faded, buried under the weight of everything else, smothered when the abuse got worse.

“I wanted to try ballet once,” I say, shrugging a shoulder and glancing away.

“Yes!” Blush gasps, eyes lighting up. “You’d be the perfect fire-breathing ballerina!”

I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips as she keeps going.

“I mean, I can teach you the fire-breathing part, but I’m sure one of the other girls could help with ballet. We’ve never had a performance like that here, but I know Madame would lose her mind over it.”

I nod a few times, quietly considering it. I already know being here is going to push my body in ways I’m not used to, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

“And how’d you find your first day, anyway?” Blush asks, one brow arched, curious.

A flicker of something tightens in my chest—something I don’t show. I keep my expression neutral, eyes locked on hers through the reflection.

“I’ve had worse days. At least no one tried to kill me. Yet.”

She pauses, her eyes flashing to mine in the mirror.

“No one’s gonna kill you here.”

“Not even Wrath?” I ask, my brows pulling in.

She scoffs with a smirk, grabbing a water spray bottle.

“Babes, I told you this morning, if Wrath wanted you dead, you’d already be a carcass. He doesn’t wait,” her eyes flick back to mine as she continues. “He has a thing for you. Which is weird and rare as fuck, honestly. Wrath doesn’t like girls… Not like that. He doesn’t like anyone who breathes, really. Just Hell and Soul.”

“Likes me…” I repeat it like I don’t believe it, the words bitter in my mouth.

“Yeah, I knew something was up this morning after what he pulled, but the whole Globe of Death thing? That just confirmed it.”

I don’t answer, too lost thinking about that moment between us. How his body felt pressed against mine, strong and powerful, as if he was built to be a weapon.

The heat of him seeped into my skin, and god, the way he smelled… He smelt like smoke and danger, like a psycho who knows exactly how to ruin a woman, the right way. The kind of man you'll regret but ache for again an hour later. You don’t recover from a man like Wrath. And when I felt his big dick flex against me I almost lost my damn mind.

And of course, the way he kept that bike steady, like it was nothing more than a wild animal only he could tame. There was something in that control, something brutal and calm all at once. I felt strangely safe with him, which is fucking crazy, considering he was threatening to kill me barely an hour before.

“Do you like him?” Blush asks, and my eyes dart to hers as I mull over the question.

“I mean… he’s strangely hot and weirdly intriguing but—”

“I get it,” she cuts in with a knowing grin. “Listen, I’m a lesbian, and even I’d drop my sexuality just to be on my knees for that man once, if I knew I could survive him.”

The laugh slips out of her so easily, but then her face sharpens as she leans closer, tone dropping.

“Just be careful,” she finishes, softer now. “Wrath’s a different breed and I don’t say that lightly.”

And something in the way she says it makes me believe her.

“You’re into Wrath?” I ask curiously, searching her pink eyes.

She stands a little taller, brow furrowed like I’ve just accused her of a felony.

“It’s notlikethat, Aurelia”she says.“It’s more of a sick fantasy than actual feelings. As I said I’m into girls and could never be into him like that, I’m just morbidly curious. I mean, I dig violent fucks, and let’s be real, Wrath could ruin a soul and pussy at a death-level proficiency.

You’d literally be banged into the afterlife.”

I raise a brow before we both burst out laughing. I shake my head as the last giggle rolls off my lips, then sink back into the chair, eyes drifting to the mirror. I stare at myself, trying to see whathesees, trying to understand this undeniable pull between us that refuses to loosen.

“When you and Noir left the dressing room, he came in,”I admit.

Blush freezes.“Oh my god, what happened?”She gasps, full attention snapping back to me.

I sigh, fiddling with the sleeve of my hoodie.

“He tried it, I teased, he got rough, and I bit back.”

“And how did he take it?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

She inhales deeply with a smile before brushing my hair again.

“Well, there’s that. But he’s a Hollow. They like to play with their prey, mess with their heads and test every boundary. Always keep your mind sharp.”

I nod slowly, absorbing her guidance before I speak again.

“I don’t know, Blush. One minute I’m stuck in hell, locked away... and now I’ve got this guy, thispsychotic circus guy, acting like he owns every fibre of my being. It’s all happening too fast. Too much, too soon.”I exhale, my frustration leaking into my words.

“I’m not looking for any sort of relationship, an obsession, or even a man, honestly. I’ve got my own shit to fix. I need to rebuild my strength and mindset. I can’t afford for Wrath to get in my way and distract me from what I’m supposed to be doing.”

She pauses, studying me like she understands.

“You want my advice?” she asks, and I think about it before giving a small nod, anything to help me make sense of this mess.

She kneels down and I swivel the chair to face her.

“You want to rebuild your strength and mindset? Then you’ve landed in the only place twisted enough to help you do it. Oddity doesn’t just break you; it unearths you. It rips out what’s weak, carves into what’s left, and warps it into something unstoppable. And no one here will batter an eyelid at the sight of who you become. That’s why Wrath walks unleashed. Heisan example of what this place makes of you when you stop pretending. So why fight it? Let it take over. Let it forge you. Take the mentality, the pain, the fear... and turn it into something you can control. Make it fucking kneel at your feet.”

I scan her pink eyes, her words hitting somewhere deep, somewhere I didn’t know still ached. And for a moment, something heavy lifts off me.

Like she’s finally said what I didn’t know I needed to hear. That I don’t have to claw my way back to who I was, and I don’t have to be fixed. I can just be this, whateverthisis, and whatever the hell I’m becoming.

“You’ve already been through enough shit, Aurelia… I can see it because I know it myself. But you’re still standing and that’s strength. There’s power in what’s left of you, don’t ever forget that. They didn’t take it all. They just twisted what remained into something darker... something you now have to learn to love and live with. Chase that darkness and embrace it. No one catches it easily—we’ve all bled to be able to feel it. We’ve all lost pieces of ourselves to survive. But that loss? That hurt? That’s exactly what makes us worthy to stand tall and be proud be who we’ve become. Madness and all.”

I lower my eyes as she continues.

“Dare I say it… but Wrath might actually be the perfect challenge for you. If you can handle him, shit, if you cansurvive him, you’ll be able to handle anything. That’s not opinion. That’s a fact.”

My eyes lift to hers, and she offers me a soft smile, one I find myself returning. She reaches out, gives my forearm a gentle squeeze, then stands and moves back to my hair.