Page 69 of Deviant

The windows are a good few metres from where I’m lying. I’m not sure I have the strength for this, but I have to take the chance because any minute, they’re going to put those fancy glasses down and start abusing me again.

I force my body up, moving slowly at first. Still no one takes any notice.

It’s hard to get to my feet, my body protests so much that I have to swallow the cries because I know if they hear it, they’ll look my way and it’ll all be over.

I take one small tentative step, then another.

And then I turn, racing with every last bit of energy I have left. I spring from the floor, throwing all my weight into the jump and I crash into the glass, feeling it tear into my skin as I fall through and down.

I land in a broken heap of limbs. My shoulder is wrong. My legs feel like they’re not angled right. But I’m alive. How the fuck am I still alive? I wanted to snap my neck, break my back. I wanted to be dead already.

I squirm, feeling a jolt of searing pain from my shoulder. My arms are still tied, but there’s enough glass here to do something about that. I snatch at a long-jagged piece, cutting into my palm as I hack as quickly as I can.

And then I realise what else I have to do. What has to be done. With a deep breath, I drag it up from my wrist the whole way to my elbow, cutting deep enough to ensure I sever the artery.

It takes almost all my strength to do it. I know I need to cut my other wrist too to be sure, but with my shoulder as it is I can’t move my arm around enough to get the angle right.

The glass slips from my hand, it chatters almost merrily as it drops beside me.

And as my blood starts to spurt out, I pray that it is enough. It has to be enough. Please, God, just let it end.

Exhaustion overwhelms me. I lay back, I shut my eyes, and I give in with a small smile on my face because it is over. Despite everything that bastard has done to me, I have beaten him in my own way.

I can feel my life ebbing away. I can feel my body getting colder and colder. I don’t even care if there is nothing beyond this. If death is all that awaits me, I’m okay with that. Content with that.

I would welcome that nothingness with open arms.

Because I can be at peace now. I can be free.

And Magnus Blake will never be able to hurt me again.

It’s fast. Too fast for me to react in time.

I reach out, try to snatch at her with my hands, but she’s already gone.

And then it’s like everything slows, the world goes silent, and yet it’s so damned loud at the same time.

All I can see is her, the sheer panic in her face, the fear but the defiance, too. She flings herself out the window just as I shout for someone to grab hold of her.

The glass shatters, the frame gives way from the force at which her body slams into it.

But she doesn’t scream, she doesn’t make a sound as she falls. No, even now she’s too damned defiant to give me that little bit of satisfaction.

She lands with a thud and a crack—that only too recognisable sound of a body hitting something hard and unforgiving.

My feet move before I can register them. I push past everyone, desperate to get to her. My heart thumps in my chest, but I can’t tell if it’s excitement or fear… but then what would I have to be afraid of?

By the time I reach her, there’s a few strangers surrounding her. She’s landed right into one of the courtyards and a crowd is gathering to watch this spectacle play out.

I shout out, barking for them to get the fuck away and to leave her alone.

She’s mine. My pet. My plaything.

Her chest is rising slowly, her body is trembling in a way that tells me she’s already gone into shock.

She’s dying.

My little pet is dying.

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