Page 82 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

“I didn’t pretend, Fin,” Einar said mildly, suggesting he knew there was no point in arguing.

“Come and unshackle me, then, ye dobber. Or would yer hoor prefer tae do it? I’d rather have her do it, that’s fer suire! Come close, ye clatty wee tart, set me free.”

The nimble candle flames danced in the wind. My hair flew madly around me. I kept trying to smooth it, grabbing at it with my hands to keep it still.

“And what would you do if she set you free, Fin?” Einar asked dispassionately.

“Well, well ... ye, ye bawface, I’d just throttle ye and snap yer neck for doing this tae me. Ye ’ave no right to keep me ’ere, ye wee shite! I’d kill ye and tear ye apart for it in a minute! But her? Hee-hee.” He laughed nastily. “Och, I’d like that just fine, aye? I never kent why ye alone got tae enjoy that feine arse. Now it would be me turn. Oh, and I’d push her tae the ground andtear her clothes off and yank her hair so hard some of it would stay between me fingers. I’d grab those perfect, big tits and crush them with me hands till blood spurted out of her nipples. And then I’d fuck her hard in the cunt and the arse until she would bleed and cry and beg me tae stop. And I would bite into that juicey arse and those milky tits until I would taste blood, until I would tear flesh oot ...”

Finlay strained against his chains, as if to lunge at me. The radiator creaked but held fast in the wall. I felt frozen to the spot. Tears ran down my cheeks, my heart hammered in my chest, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I noticed that Einar was looking at me, not at Finlay, and I wanted to claw his face for his fiendish yet transparent cunning.

“You’re not well, Fin! Can’t you see what’s happening to you?” I asked, voice shaking. “It’s freezing in here, but you’re sweating visibly. You’ve been throwing up and ... had diarrhoea. And the Finlay I know was always kind to me and wouldneversay anything like this to me or anyone!”

He swung his hands madly, and the chains rattled. He snarled at me, teeth moist with saliva, bared in the gash of his mouth, red like blood in the whiteness of his face.

“Let’s chain ye like an animal and see if ye’re yerself, ye glaikit cunt.”

“Fin ...” A sob escaped me.

“Och, I havena finished yet. After being done with ye, and ye lying at my feet half passed out and bleeding, I’d grab yer hair and yank ye up and shove my cock deep in yer mouth. So deep I could choke ye with it?—”

“That’s a stupid idea, Fin.” Rage suddenly erupted deep within my chest. “You’d regret that. You’re not the only one who can bite, you know?”

Both he and Einar laughed, albeit two very different kinds of laughs. I turned on my heel to walk out, but Einar grabbed me bymy shoulders and held me fast as I struggled against him. All the while, Finlay continued yelling abuse at me, but I no longer paid attention to its content.

“Let me go right this minute,” I hissed at Einar. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Have you, though?”

“Let go of me.” I struggled, attempting to break free, rather like Finlay straining against his chains with impotent wrath. “Let me go or I swear I’ll ... yes, dammit, I’ve seen enough!”

He released me at last. I rushed out of the room with a bang of the door, pounded down the stairs, and sighed with relief as I reached the fresh air outside. Then, without knowing I would do so, I collapsed on the ground, crying. The asphalt was hard like ice, and I felt as if I were being swallowed by the dark, impenetrable as it was, without any artificial light to illuminate the streets.

“Get off the ground, Ren. You’ll catch a cold, sweetheart.”

Einar hoisted me up with ease. He made to embrace me, but I fought against him. After an entirely hopeless attempt to push him away, I pummelled his chest with my hands.

Then, in one unthinking moment, I slapped him across the face. Feebly and without conviction. The impact barely made a sound. I froze, not daring to move. My skin bloomed hotly with shame.

Einar made no move to retaliate and simply stood motionless, waiting for me to say or do something with a cocked eyebrow. There was no anger in his expression, nothing but mild impatience.

“I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I did that,” I stammered breathlessly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, that was really unacceptable. I am so sorry ...”

The gash on his jaw had scabbed over, the dark red of the wound only faintly visible through the coarse hairs of his stubble. I laid my palm across it gently. Then I finally let him pull me close.

“It’s alright. You can slap me as many times as you want if you agree to do it.”

I groaned, but more from desperation than in mutiny.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” I asked, making sure I didn’t sound combative.

Einar breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.

“What do you think, Ren? Because I can’t, that’s why. He is one of my oldest friends, after all.”