Page 41 of The Boy I Loved (Eternal Hell #1)

The girls rose slowly, making their way toward the beds and climbing into the ones assigned to them.

I didn’t watch after that. Tristan was into some weird shit and would probably make them do weird, inhumane things.

Instead, my gaze found Hazel’s from across the room.

She didn’t bother looking away, as if she wanted me to see it all—the pain, the betrayal, the anger, the disappointment.

I swallowed thickly, fighting against the urge to run to her. Once she was moved to the first floor, she’d have more freedom and we could communicate, but until then, it wasn’t an option.

A girl strolled up at random, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Tristan had his favorites and he gave them extra privileges as a result. Some of them genuinely thought he loved them. It was sad.

Emerson lowered herself onto his lap with a wide smile.

He didn’t freak out on her for it like the majority of us would have.

Instead, he circled an arm around her waist and tugged her against him.

Her shiny, black hair fell down her back in soft waves.

She was one of our more experienced girls.

No one was excluded from training, not until they knew the ins and outs of everything.

Emerson was almost there, but not quite .

Tristan’s gaze flicked to the girls on the beds momentarily, making Emerson scowl, but to her credit, she kept her mouth closed.

“Come on Lauren,” Tristan admonished. “Eat her out like you’re starving for it.”

Light moans filtered through the air, some of them mixing together so prominently, I couldn’t tell how many girls they were coming from.

“That’s it—” He cut off, his head jerking to one of the other beds. “Callie,” he snapped. “Does her nose look like a cock to you? Drag your cunt across her mouth. I know you’ve done this shit before.” He shook his head in exasperation. “Fucking dimwits,” he mumbled under his breath.

If Hazel wasn’t here, I might have laughed.

Tristan was an idiot, but in an amusing kind of way.

He said the most off-handed shit, made the girls do the oddest things, and still somehow managed to be labeled as one of the hottest guys here.

It must have been the persona he gave off.

He was laid back and chill with an evil streak he had hidden just below the surface.

He gave the girls more freedom than most, unless he wanted to target a particular one for whatever reason, then he made that girl’s life an even bigger Hell than it already was.

Vincent stood abruptly, walking across the room to where the cabinets and supplies were. He fished around for a few seconds before retrieving something. It took me a few seconds to realize what it was, but when I realized, repulsion bubbled up inside me.

“What the fuck is that?” Azrael demanded, paling already despite not knowing what it was.

Tristan threw his head back and laughed, the deep sound tittering throughout the room. “That’s fucking sick, man.”

Vince shot him a small smirk, lifting the amputated arm in the air by the nub and waving it around. Drea’s arm.

“You just kept that shit here for safekeeping?” I demanded .

He shrugged in response. “You never know when you’ll need a random body part. Or, in this case, a sex toy.” He made his way over to the bed in the center, causing the two naked girls to pause and look over at him.

Lauren’s wide eyes fell on the arm, her skin paling instantly.

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I saw both girls shake their heads.

Vincent shot forward, tangling his fingers through Lauren’s hair.

He forced her on her back with ease and then handed the arm to Veronica, who stared down at it like she might be sick.

“How did he keep that shit from smelling?” I asked, glancing over at Tristan.

Tristan snorted a laugh. “It’s Vincent. Are you really that surprised?”

Unfortunately, I wasn’t.

“Fuck her with this,” Vincent demanded, pushing the severed limb toward Veronica who reluctantly took it, knowing better than to question him.

Both of the girls looked like they were seconds away from losing the small bit of sustenance they’d been granted.

Lauren shook with silent sobs as Veronica toyed with the fingers, positioning them just right. She shoved one against Lauren’s opening and pushed inside, visibly shuddering with disgust.

Vincent was as twisted as it got. He was a damn psychopath—maybe even a sociopath.

We’d been friends for years, and still, I barely knew a thing about him.

He didn’t talk about his family, other than his older brother, Myles—who he’d always looked up to, and his younger sister.

He never said much about her, though. Just that he had one.

I couldn’t imagine what kind of a guy his brother was for Vincent Patterson of all people to look up to him.

The guy was one of the most deranged I knew.

Unable to help myself, my attention slid back to Hazel.

She didn’t spare the women on the beds a glance, opting to stare at the surface of the table instead.

Her shoulders were rolled inward, attempting to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible, but I still noticed her.

There had always been this undeniable, magnetic pull between us, even when we were kids.

I didn’t realize there were stronger feelings between us until we were about fourteen, maybe a little earlier than that.

A loud gut-wrenching sob echoed through the room, drawing my attention back to Lauren and Veronica. Lauren was hyperventilating now, her body shaking as tears streamed down her face.

Vincent strode forward, snatching the arm from Veronica before swinging it and slapping Lauren across the side of the face, her head whipping to the side. Caramel blonde hair tumbled around her with the movement, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” he snarled. “You think it can’t get worse than this?”

Lauren shook her head profusely. “I-it can. I’m s-sorry Vincent. I-I can’t help it.” She sniffled through her jumbled words, hiccups following shortly after.

He reached forward, burying his fingers through Lauren’s hair and jerking, causing her neck to bend at an odd angle. With his other hand, he brought the severed limb toward her face, malice sparkling within his eyes.

“Suck,” he commanded, pushing the fingers against her mouth.

Lauren recoiled noticeably. “P-please,” she choked out.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Lauren trembled in response but slowly pried her lips apart.

He pushed the fingers inside, and she wrapped her lips around them as instructed.

The hand was pale, having lost all its color from lack of blood.

It was a grayish blue at this point, and the mere sight of it had my own stomach twisting.

He continued to thrust the fingers in and out of her mouth, even ramming them down her throat to make her gag before he tossed the severed limb on the mattress and stepped away .

“No more crying. Let that be your warning.” He turned his back and made his way toward us, flopping down on the sofa again.

Training went smoother than expected. Tristan didn’t target Hazel today, probably because he wanted to wait until her results came back from the lab.

He couldn’t risk any of his main bitches getting infected.

Diseases spread like wildfire in a place like this.

I was convinced that it was because he knew Clay would have his head over it and Tristan wanted to stay on his good side.

After the session ended, I went back to my room and crawled into bed. It was my break time, but I just needed some time to get my thoughts in order before finishing out the rest of the day.

The ceiling was dull and boring, but I found myself drawn to it as I lay on my back, gazing upwards.

My hands were folded over my chest, a mixture of emotions and thoughts running through me.

This was the kind of thing I was used to: torturing women, hurting them, belittling them, taking whatever I wanted from them.

And yet, it all felt different now. There was a time I wouldn’t even bat an eye.

I’d do what was expected of me because that was just how things were.

But Hazel was here now. I didn’t want her to see me like that.

I’d tried my hardest to keep her away from it all and it still didn’t matter.

She was here, and she would see me for who I really was—if she didn’t already.

I was a fool for thinking we could be together, for thinking I could fuck her without consequence. It was just one time and look where that got me? This was all my goddamn fault.

A soft breath tumbled from my lips.

My stomach was a series of knots and regret, consuming me so thoroughly it was all I could feel.

Hazel’s green eyes flashed within my mind, her full lips stretching to reveal the youthful smile she honed when she was only twelve years old.

She’d been so full of life back then. She still was, but I’d already noticed some of that light fade from her beautiful irises. It fucking killed me.

Clay said that bringing her here was my sacrifice—that everyone had a price to pay.

He gave up Elizabeth, so I had to give up Hazel.

I didn’t know what Vincent had to sacrifice.

Maybe his entire family, since he was here, and they were somewhere else.

He didn’t seem too beaten up over it. Then again, you wouldn’t know the difference.

Mason had nothing to lose. His mom was a cunt from what I’d heard and there was no love lost between the two of them.

Nicholas was even more of a mystery. He’d lost Imogen, but I wasn’t sure if that was the price he had to pay, or if there was something else.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. This was just another attempt to control us—to keep us in line.

I wasn’t sure how long I laid there for, lost to my thoughts.

The guilt was crippling. All I could think about was Hazel.

She wouldn’t last in this place. She wasn’t strong enough.

That wasn’t even an insult. She was too good-natured, too compassionate, and too full of life.

If she did manage to survive here, all of that would be stripped away until the Hazel I knew no longer existed.

She was here because of me, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

I’d allowed my jealousy to get the better of me and it would ruin us both.

“You’re on basement duty with me,” Tristan told me, slapping me on my shoulder.

The last thing I wanted to do was work with him and watch him torture the girls.

Clay was short-staffed tonight, so I was pulling a double, but that was fine.

So far, I’d managed to avoid the basement, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

Maybe I could finally get the chance to talk to her when Tristan was distracted screwing one of the girls, or when he went out to smoke .

That thought didn’t bring me any relief. She’d probably tell me to go to Hell. It would be well-deserved, but I had to at least try.

I’d just come back from break a little while ago and was seated in the lounge.

Most of the girls on this level were off doing jobs, but a few were in their rooms while others served the men surrounding me.

It was monotonous. I didn’t understand how the guys never tired of it.

Then again, a lot of them enjoyed inflicting pain.

I did, too. But how could I do that with Hazel here now?

Word traveled like wildfire, and she’d know who did what eventually.

My fingers curled into my palms, my knuckles cracking as a result.

I’d kept my monster at bay for a while, but it was crippling.

How long before I snapped? How long before I showed Hazel I was just like Mason, just like Tristan, maybe even just like Vincent.

Maybe she needed to know. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore.

I blew out a breath, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling above.

It was about time I saw Hazel.