Page 29 of Burn Like An Angel

This admission is a soul-destroying defeat.

My greatest failure.

“I can’t even blame you.” Acceptance dampens my words into an almost-whisper. “Not anymore. Not after the things I’ve done with the exact same justification.”

I turn away from them, my prickling skin pulling tight with the urge to run. The next words hurt to utter.

“I wish I hated you both, but I don’t.”

My fate seals, setting ablaze the last crumbs of my self-respect. I flee towards the exit, unable to look at any of them for a second longer. Overlapping voices chase after me.

“Ripley!”

“Wait!”

“Rip! Stop!”

Their concerned shouts fail to slow me down. All I can focus on is the foul taste of humiliation coating my tongue, reminding me of all I’ve sacrificed… for absolutely nothing.

They still won.

And I’m as broken as they intended.

CHAPTER 4

RIPLEY

YOU’VE CREATED A MONSTER – BOHNES

Harrowdean Manor is in pandemonium.

Hellish, uncontrolled, fatal fucking mayhem.

In my haste to get some space, I failed to consider what danger I’d be running headfirst into. After all, this place is my home. My kingdom. Nothing can surprise me, right?

Wrong.

All bets are off now.

Corridors littered with ripped antique paintings, scattered belongings and all manner of detritus stretch before me as I speed walk into the unknown.

I don’t care where I’m headed. As long as it’s away from them. My weakened body protests with each footstep, but I ignore it. The throbbing aches, mind-numbing pains and infection in my searing wrists aren’t going to slow me down.

Morning light illuminates the carnage that’s unfolded. Clearly, we’ve been holed up for long enough to allow our familiar surroundings to transform. The opulent hallways no longer represent the extravagance and corruption I’ve come to hate.

My footsteps slow as I turn a corner, the sound of pleasured grunting quickly reaching my ears. I’m close to the receptionwhere two patients are taking full advantage of the chance to indulge.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes… Fuck… More!”

Her pasty ass on full display, a new girl I vaguely recognise from the sixth floor is bent over with her clothing wrapped around her ankles. Eyes screwed shut, she fails to notice me watching.

I’m shocked to recognise one of my regulars behind her—Luka. I’ve been selling him laxatives for months. He’s ploughing into her like a man possessed. Damn. A twisted part of me wants to clap him on the back.

I race past them, keeping my eyes averted.

Light also reveals the dank mess and water damage. The flood that preceded the violence engulfing the institute trashed this area.

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