Page 43 of Their Blood Rite

‘Or don’t,’ he grinds out. ‘Be naked for all I care. I’ll be back up later. Do not try to leave this room without permission from one of your masters.’

‘You are not my master.’

‘I’ll get something sent up for you to eat.’ He heads out into the hall.

I grab his chair and toss it. The bedroom door shuts before it can find its mark, and the chair falls to the floor minus a leg.

‘That’s the only outburst you’ll get with me, Pixie,’ he calls back through the door. ‘Remember I’ve said that. I will not repeat it.’

I hear his footsteps fade, leaving me behind in this room. In this uncertainty. All their words race through my mind in an incoherent tirade.

They want my blood. That’s for sure. And they’re right. I’ve nowhere else to go. Nowhere to run. Even if I could disobey them, I’m fucked out there.

My chest becomes painfully tight, and spots blur my vision.

I can’t breathe! I can’t fucking breathe!

Clawing at my throat, I search for something that will help me avoid a panic attack. It’s been so long since I’ve had one. I’d almost forgotten how they feel!

When I turn to face the bed, I see a large mirror above it. My eyes widen as the shadows inside start to descend.

Not a mirror. Not now!

I can just about cope when I’m at peace, but with my emotions out of control, it’s hopeless.

I grab the remainder of the chair and toss it hard. Shards of glass explode everywhere, covering the bed and dancing across the floor. My throat continues to close and the room spins. My heart feels ready to explode.

The bed.

I make for it, but my legs buckle. So I crawl, naked and desperate, and slide beneath it. I sink below the wooden frame and sturdy mattress, where the light doesn’t fall, and no one can see me. Where there are no mirrors. No monsters.

Curling into a tight ball, I close my eyes and focus on breathing.

Small. Keep small. Keep hidden. Back against the wall so you’ll see who is coming. Don’t listen. Don’t look.

But I know who is coming. I know what awaits me.

Pain. Imprisonment. Three masters who should have already killed me.

Is this it? Is this the rest of my life? Trapped in a bedroom where three blood-thirsty men will feed on me at their whim, with nothing left to do but wait for them to kill me or for the covens to finish what they started?

I remain huddled under here, feeling like a child once more. Scared. Alone. Weak and helpless.

Now what? What do I do?

Then I see the shard of glass from the broken mirror just ahead of me.

And I get a thought.

A terrifying yet blissful and freeing thought that instantly lightens the unbearable weight that was crushing my heart.

I don’t have to live my days out like this. In whatever hell they have planned. The first time I met them, they had a pixie nailed to a table and took immense pleasure in torturing it to death.

I’m their pixie now. Shaw vowed I would be.

I ended that poor creature's life to spare it its suffering.

I can do the same for myself. End my suffering whilst I can and stop them from getting another thing from me, be it my blood, my magic, or my body.

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