ONE

MEANDRA’S POV

I winced at the burning sensation that I felt on the palms of my hand. I don't know how much time had passed and I had no idea how much time would be left if I'm done with feeling the drums.

I could hear the not so subtle snickers and the cackling of the guards in the background.

I knew my hands were probably going to be swollen in the morning but I couldn't find it in me to care. If anything I anticipated the pain that would follow, each time I pulled the fetcher from the well.

I could already feel my body becoming weak with exhaustion but I didn't allow myself to linger on the feeling. I don't know how long time had passed but from the look of the moon, I could tell that it was approaching the wee hours of the morning.

“Should probably consider taking her in for the night. Been long since I had some entertainment,” I heard one of the guards laugh.

Even though I tried to show no emotion, no matter how much I tried to feel nothing. I still felt the cold shudder travel down my spine.

The thought of his slimy hands on my skin made my skin crawl with irritation but I also knew if he were to carry out his words. There would be nothing that I would be able to do about it. Fighting would get me nothing but more pain and more punishment and I didn't know if I could survive being on the receiving end of the king's rage.

He's already told me what to expect. What was the point of giving him more reason to make me reasonable?

“The king would kill you, Dante? You know you can't do that,” one of the guards spoke.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I subtly breathed out a sigh of relief as the guard debunked the idea almost immediately.

My hands shook slightly as I struggled to pull up the fetcher.

“Don't be such a kill sport. You don't think I know that?”

But how's he going to know if we don't tell him?” He spoke up again. I could feel his gaze piercing into the back of my skin.

I fought hard not to shiver and give off the notion that I was listening into their conversation.

My eyes fluttered closed for a brief second. My heart was back to being in my throat.

“Besides. It's not like anyone would care. She's been tossed around from Lord to Lord.

Why not enjoy some of the benefits as well why we still can,” Dante spoke up. My heart raced uncontrollably. Any minute from now.

There was a high tendency that I was going to throw up the contents of my stomach of what was left of it anyway. My mouth suddenly tastes bitter and my eyes watered with tears for a brief second.

Being passed down from one Lord to another, being forced to occupy their bed, spread my legs, clean their chambers, kiss their feet.

For a brief moment, I could feel raw hatred threatening to consume me from the inside out. So intense that I thought I would burn on the spot from the intensity of it.

Being passed down to the guards was another thing. I wonder how much I would be able to take before I completely shattered.

I could sense Dante taking a step towards me.

“Hey, You. How about you drop that for a second and you follow me,” he placed his cold hand on my shoulder. I fought hard not to flinch. I froze.

Before I could mutter anything in response. The guard that I heard earlier spoke up.

“If you lay a finger on her. I'm going to have to report you to the king, Dante,” he said calmly. I held my breath.

A second spiralled into a minute before Dante reluctantly pulled his hand away from my shoulder.

“You're such a cock block, Lucas,” Dante growled. The other guards threw taunts at Lucas.

Insults were hurled my way as well but at least I couldn't feel Dante's hand on my shoulder anymore so I would take it as a win.

My hands were beginning to tremble. Exhaustion was beginning to catch up with me once more. Any moment from now, I'm convinced that there's a possibility that I might break.

But I couldn't keep up. Neither could I control it.

Lord Martin, Lord Lucien, Lord Travis, Lord Luther and Lord Damien. At the remembrance of these Lords, unwanted memories of torture flooded through my mind.

I could still feel the pain of the bruises on my skin. I could still feel it all. Martin's whip against my back, I could still feel Luther's fingers bruising the inside of my thighs as he forced my legs open.

I could still remember the vile names he called each time he forced my legs open. My exhaustion was immediately replaced with fierce pain.

I struggled to raise up the fetcher until I could hear one of the guards approaching.

“The lord has given orders for her to return to the cell. She continues tomorrow,” he said. I was caught in-between feeling relief and feeling dread.

My body was exhausted and I could use the brief rest but I also didn't want to be confined to the darkness of the cellar.

Before I could process anything else, I felt two strong hands grip my arms. I didn't struggle.

I let them pull me away from the well. We headed back inside through the dark corridor and walked till we arrived at the cell.

“Guess, daddy can't save you now. How does it feel to be a tyrant princess?” the one at the right sneered at me.

Mockery and hatred lingered beneath his eyes. He not so gently flung me into the cell.

My body screamed in pain as it made a hard impact with the ground. My heart stung with pain. My body too. I looked up at them as they threw taunts at me sliding the bar iron shut.

I noticed one of them remained quiet. He stared at me for a little longer than necessary. He looked at me with... pity?

They finally left and I was engulfed in the darkness and the silence. All I needed to do was subject myself to obedience and I would get through this.

Through all of it. The image of Alejandro flashed through my mind.

His curious eyes, his promises of pain and torture. No matter how much I tried to hold back on my emotion, no matter how much I tried not to linger on the intense hatred that I felt, it consumed me from the inside out and I clung onto it because it was the only thing that gave me hope.

I recalled every one of their faces. Martin, Lucien, Travis, Luther, Damien. My heart paused at the thought of Alejandro, the relish in his cold eyes when he described in detail how he was going to make me suffer. My hatred intensified.

I was going to have to swallow every humiliation, endure every assault and when I had completed my sentence, I was going to come back for each of them, one after the other.

My thirst for revenge heightened. I was going to subject all of them to misery.