7

REN'S POV

A primal shriek laced with fear escapes my lips as chains descend from above, their metallic coils snaking toward me with ominous intent, halting my less-than-graceful descent with a jarring force. The scalding embrace of the hot steel encircles my wrists and ankles, stretching me to an agonizing limit. All the while keeping me suspended.

I voice a strangled hiss of pain as I clench my eyes shut, the oppressive darkness pressing in on me like a suffocating cloak. And each passing moment seems to intensify the searing heat, a phantom sensation of flames licking at my skin.

Tears well in my eyes and fall, tracing a solitary path down my cheek. But they feel scorching hot, their fiery touch igniting a torment of their own against my flesh.

In the depths of darkness, I envision it as an unrelenting force; red flames leaping and roaring with a vicious fervor. Its ravenous appetite knows no bounds, intent on devouring all I have to offer. It sears the rough pads of my feet, igniting a conflagration that consumes everything in its path. I am engulfed, burning from the inside out, as the inferno dances within, leaving naught but ashes in its wake.

There's a haunting beauty in the piercing cry that shatters the silence, a raw heart-wrenching sonnet of agony escaping from the depths of my anguish. My voice, a raw symphony of pain, paints the space with the visceral strokes of an emotion too intense to be confined.

My eyes open, embracing bleeding obsidian and clutching at shadows, my breath a delicate tremor of fear. Every unseen whisper becomes a phantom, and the absence of light is a canvas for my imagination to weave tales of untold terrors.

A memory comes to me, distorted figures and clear words. “Those flames are everlasting, ye shall beg endlessly for relief but shall find none.”

My body writhes in torment, each convulsion and frenzied twist a testament to the unyielding grip of pain. Despite the desperate desire for freedom, I remain trapped– the shadows clawing at my soul, refusing solace even in the deepest corners of my mind. This fire is a symphony of anguish where the crescendo never grants release, this punishment is a perpetual dance with agony that mocks the very essence of my mortality.

My heart bleeds and I cry for the sins of the past.

A glass house, cherry smiles, and crimson banisters.

More haunting memories creep into my mind and capture me in a labyrinth of pain. Each memory is a specter, a sharp thorn piercing the fragile fabric of my present, reopening wounds thought long healed. Their tendrils reach out, drawing me back to a time when every smile carried a trace of sorrow, every laugh was tinged with the echo of tears shed and my very being was a testament to evil.

This isn't just a recollection; it is a palpable sensation, a heavy weight settling upon my chest, suffocating and relentless. With each beat of my heart, echoes of the past reverberate through my mind, filling me with a sense of dread. I can hear the haunting whispers of words long spoken, his maniacal laugh grating the insides of my ear, feel the cold grip of hands tightening around my throat, and taste the bitter sting of tears that had once fallen like rain.

I see Mama, her once vibrant eyes lay closed, their luster faded, robbed of the spark that once illuminated them. I feel hands in my hair, gripping and pulling at my locks till my scalp burns.

It's all too vivid; the warm liquid of life dripping down my fingers, the metal clutched in my palm. His eyes follow me everywhere.

I close my eyes, trying to escape its grasp, but the memory clings to me like a shadow, refusing to let go.

I don't know which is worse... The flames licking up my skin or the darkness trapped in my mind.

All my life I've known pain; it has been a relentless companion, weaving its way through the fabric of my existence, coloring every moment with shades of anguish. From the sharp sting of rejection originating from my father's cane to the dull ache of loneliness, it has sculpted the contours of my soul, etching its mark with unforgiving precision. But never anything like this. This torment –I soon realize– is playing a sick game with me, slowly, at its own leisure pace, it is coaxing me to beg.

Not for freedom.

But for death. However, I know death shan't answer me as it remains steadfastly indifferent, refusing to be summoned by mortal hands.

•••

I feel him before I see him.

His presence is a subtle shift in the air, a faint disturbance that sets my senses ablaze with anticipation.

Painstakingly slow, my eyes peel open to light brought forth from a single lantern held aloft, and trace the lines of his form. It's as though my vision serves as a harbinger, heralding his arrival before my heart can acknowledge the impending rush of emotions.

Silently, he assesses me for a moment. He takes in my weary state; limp and drained from hours of having my arms bear the weight of my fatigue, strands of disheveled hair clinging to my sweat-soaked face, and my eyes heavy with exhaustion and struggling to stay open. He watches the rise and fall of my chest as I inhale a staggered breath. "You seem to have calmed down a bit." A low murmur more to himself but not low enough so I don't hear it.

As time has passed, the once roaring flames have now subsided into a mere flicker across my tender skin, the haunting memories —once clear but now distant— that once consumed my thoughts have begun to lose their grip on my mind and are barely recognizable in my current state.

I watch in a semi-paralyzed state as he approaches me with a fluid grace, the contours of his body blending effortlessly with the surrounding depths of darkness.

"Do you promise to behave?" His tone is clipped and I know he will only ask this once.

My gaze is hollow, reflecting the shards of my shattered soul. There is a weariness in me, a heaviness that seems to weigh down my every movement. I feel the last vestiges of hope slipping through my fingers like sand.

Alone in the quiet solitude of my thoughts, I find myself at a crossroads, torn between two paths. My eyes, heavy with the weight of despair, flicker with uncertainty as I contemplate my options. Each breath is a battle between the desire to escape the pain and the fear of what lies ahead. My heart, a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions, pulls me in opposite directions, leaving me stranded on the shores of indecision. In the depths of my soul, a tempest rages, as I wrestle with the choice to surrender to these unearthly flames, or to follow the enigmatic allure of the man who promises salvation at the price of my compliance.

And as I look at the man before me, there is a brief flicker of defiance. But then, with a resigned sigh, I lower my gaze and nod my head, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

I surrender.

The man's gaze narrows, his eyes becoming slits of suspicion, as he assesses the gesture with a discerning eye. "Words," he demands from me.

I whisper through laboured breath, "Yes." He has gotten what he wanted all along... My submission.

 

The corners of his lips ascend, a sliver of satisfaction creeping into his smile. “Good girl.”