Page 18 of A Broken Promise

Perhaps, Fate never gifted me magic because she knew that if I had even an ounce of it, I would slowly make him choke on the air he was wasting and have his own ash fill up his lungs.

“You need to change,” he finally said without answering my question. My body trembled from pain or anger—I wasn’t sure. He continued, “You are filthy and covered in vomit and blood.”

I smelled the dried vomit on my sleeves the moment I woke up and could feel my hair crusty with blood, but that was fitting, considering my circumstances. I didn’t even remember throwing up, but that must have happened when I passed out. Either way, I wasn’t going to just play a pretty dress up doll for him.

“No,” I rebelliously said, glaring back at him. Though my voice was quiet and missing the intended bite to it, it didn’t shake, and I was proud of that.

I watched his face carefully and clenched my jaw tighter, seeing a slight flicker of amusement in his face.

My large, scratchy ropes evaporated into nothing but specks of ash as silver flames appeared out of thin air and ran through them. Scrambling, I shut my eyes and stopped breathing, preparing for the encompassing pain of the Destroyer’s fire. Yet when the pain didn’t come, I opened my eyes just to see my wrists free and silver flames gone.

I sharply looked back at him, my eyes full of hate and terror. He returned the stare, though, casual. Like nothing ever happened.

“A few rules,Finn…”He paused, tilting his head to the side just a bit. I willed my eyes to keep his stare, though my whole existence begged me to look away. “You dowhatI saywhenI say andhowI say it. You do not run away, or even think about running away, unless youwant to end up dead. You do not use your magic unless I tell you so. You will address me as the Lord Master or Lord Destroyer General. Now, do we have an understanding?”

I didn’t reply, staying completely silent. Something inside of me stirred furiously at just his presence.

Child torturer.

Child defiler.

A monster.

Monster of all monsters.

Defiance will be the death of me,Viyak once told me, and I was pretty sure he was right as I murmured.

“Go. To. Hell.”

His eyes widened in bafflement, but he quickly corrected that slip up.

“The dress is in the washroom. Go clean up,” he ordered as he swiftly strode out of the door.

The room filled up with heavy silence. The defiant façade I was keeping up crumbled down faster than a sandcastle against the large ocean wave. Tears started dropping down my cheeks.No, not yet,I told myself as I bit down my inner lip again, but even that didn’t help as emotions overcame me.

“One minute,” I whispered to myself. One minute is all I was going to take to pity myself and cry. And then I would get dressed and I would listen.

I would be obedient and meek.

I had to play that role many times and I could do it once more.

The bathroom was breathtaking; nothing compared to the one I bathed in just the night before. It was a spacious room with walls and floors made from pure white marble and delicate gold fixtures on the bathtub and sinks. There was a huge mirror spread above the tall, marble counter with cut in sinks. On the opposite side from the door was a semicircle giant window. It was a stained-glass mosaic. Colors of purple, red and blue mixed with green and yellow danced everywhere in the room, bringing life to the cold white of the walls. A large bath on golden, curved legs stood right in front of it.

You could bathe in rainbows,I thought to myself as I took another slow breath of the pinewood aroma coming from shampoos and oils laid out on a small stool near the tub.

The General never told me when he was coming back, I realized, and I supposed it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to allow myself to lounge in the bubbly bath and risk anyone catching me off guard. I grinded my teeth and clenched my jaw, putting on the large, baby pink dress. The long skirt was made from layers of sheer pink tule. The top was made from a darker flushed shade, connected to the skirt just above my waist. Small but puffy, short sleeves stuck out like oversized pom poms on my bony shoulders. At least the top looked less baggy on my starved bust.

A few painful grunts came out of me as I attempted to tie the top of my dress in the back. Attempted, but didn’t succeed, leaving my back half exposed.

The wet, white towel turned crimson red as I ran it through my wet hair, dried blood slowly soaking off in pieces. I stared at myself, gradually moving the comb through my poorly chopped hair. All the makeup that Brita so religiously put on me this morning was ruined, leaving running streaks of mascara. Whatever powders she used were now streaked from tears and caked in creases like dirt. At least, the small black eye and the large purple and blue bruises covering my arms worked as an accessory to the pink fluffy dress.

I forced my mouth to stretch in a wide, glowing smile. I would smile until I felt the claws of darkness ease their grip from my soul. Smile through tears, smile until the muscles of my jaw would hurt. I would smile until I would convince myself that the happy image I see is what I am.

Yet the lump in my throat grew heavier, almost choking me.

“Stop, damn it,”I muttered to myself as I wiped snot with the back of my hand that was dribbling down past my lips now. Still shrugging with internal sobs, I squinted my eyes tight to stop the tears.

You are truly pathetic.

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