Page 58 of Sticks & Serpents

My breath stopped as I stared into the small black box, disbelief seizing me. Inside were hands—severed, pale, and unnervingly still. Dried blood crusted at the wrists, a grotesque reminder of violence that turned my stomach.

I stumbled back, knocking over my chair with a loud crash that echoed through my room.

No. No. No.

Panic clawed at my throat as bile rose in my chest, threatening to spill over. It took me a full five seconds to comprehend the horror unfolding before me—the lifeless appendages nestled inside like some twisted trophy.

The reality was too much to bear.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, desperate to wake up from this nightmare. But when I opened them again, the scene remained unchanged, the severed hands stark against the soft velvet lining of the box.

And then it clicked—something in me jolted awake as I stared at them longer.They looked familiar.

A sickening recognition washed over me like ice water coursing through my veins. My heart raced as dread curled around my insides.

These hands…

They belonged to the guy from last night—the one Damien had brutally attacked. The realization sent shockwaves through my body, leaving me trembling as the full weight of what I was looking at crashed down on me.

Images flashed through my mind: his face, panic in his eyes when Damien lunged at him; his terrified expression as he scrambled away from us both.

This wasn’t just a warning; it was a message—a declaration that Damien had crossed every line imaginable and dragged me along for the ride.

As fear enveloped me, I forced myself to look closer, scrutinizing every detail. The angle of the wrists, the familiar shape of those fingers—it all made sense now in a horrific way that left me breathless.

What had he done?

I stumbled further back into my room, heart racing wildly against my ribcage as dread gripped me tighter than any embrace ever could.

My heart raced as I stumbled back, almost tripping over my chair in a frantic bid to escape the horror laid out before me. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of what I had just uncovered.

As my gaze darted around the room, something white caught my eye—a small card tucked beside the grotesque offering. My fingers trembled as I reached for it, every nerve ending screaming at me to stop. But curiosity drew me in against my better judgment.

I pulled it from its resting place, the card feeling impossibly heavy in my hand. The handwriting was perfect—elegant and fluid, just like Damien’s script. My stomach twisted at the familiarity of it.

Now he’ll never touch anyone again. You’re mine.

The words burned into my mind, echoing through my thoughts like a cruel mantra. It took a moment for their meaning to sink in fully, and when they did, my vision blurred with unshed tears. The reality of what Damien had done crashed over me like a wave, threatening to pull me under.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t help; all I could see were those lifeless hands and the stark message that accompanied them.You’re mine.The possessiveness wrapped around me like a noose, tightening until it was hard to breathe.

Panic clawed its way up my throat as nausea washed over me in waves. My hands shook violently now, dropping the card as if it were a live grenade ready to explode. I barely registered the sound of paper hitting the floor before I turned and fled toward the bathroom.

The hallway felt endless, each step heavy and labored as dread filled every corner of my mind. I slammed the bathroom door behind me and fell to my knees just in time; bile surged up from deep within me.

I retched into the toilet, each heave feeling like an eruption of horror and despair. The contents of my stomach emptied out in violent bursts as reality spiraled further out of control. How could he do this? How could he claim ownership over someone’s life so ruthlessly?

I braced myself against the cool porcelain, struggling to catch my breath between sobs that mixed with dry heaves. It felt like everything inside me was unraveling—a tight knot coming undone strand by strand—and there was no stopping it now.

I gripped the sink, my knuckles white as I leaned over, gasping for air. Each breath felt like shards of glass slicing through my throat. The world tilted, shaking beneath me, everything blurring together until nothing felt real.

This isn’t happening.

I repeated the mantra in my mind, trying to ground myself in a reality that felt too horrifying to accept.

This isn’t happening.

But it was. I could feel the weight of the truth pressing down on me, suffocating and relentless. My heart raced as memories surged forward—Damien’s fierce eyes, his smirk, the way he had pulled me close and whispered promises of possession that now echoed like curses in my ears.

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