Page 144 of Depravity

He rescued me.

I don’t know what to think of it and on some perverse level, I’m almost grateful that my brain doesn’t process emotions properly anymore.

It spares me the true horror, it sugarcoats what this is.

The lull of the engine makes my heart slow. The sound of it seems to hypnotise me, calm me even. My eyes grow heavy, my body seems to give in, and I slump against Conrad’s chest.

His nose wrinkles enough to tell me that I stink and yet he doesn’t shove me off, he doesn’t act like he’s repulsed by me.

He just holds me, and for once, he gives me whatIneed. What I so desperately need.

I wake up,blinking as I’m carried into a house. My hands are untied, my legs are dangling free, but I don’t know when that happened.

My mind registers the ornate carvings, the fancy entrance hall, even the stiff uniform of the servants as I’m carried past.

Whispers seem to float above my head, but I’m too exhausted to listen to what is being said.

On some level, I realise where I am. Where we are.

Magnus’ house.

Crystal glass glints with the first hint of sunrise. People seem to flit around, and the word ‘doctor’ seems to echo and echo.

I’m laid down in a room that doesn’t feel warm or welcoming. It’s sterile. The bed isn’t a normal one, but the kind in a medical facility. Does Magnus have a whole damn hospital hidden in his house?

As his face comes into view, I whimper. It’s not so much that I’m afraid, it’s that I don’t get what is going on. Why has Conrad brought me here of all places?

The blanket is pulled back. My hands seem to move on their own, grabbing hold of the ends, trying to cover myself. Someone tsks, and it’s yanked away, leaving me naked.

“Jesus.”

I know it’s Magnus who speaks, but I can see the disgusted look on Conrad’s face as he stares down at me.

It shouldn’t affect me the way it does, it shouldn’t upset me. For so long I’ve wanted to be something repulsive and not an object of desire. I guess I finally got what I wanted now, didn’t I?

As his eyes land on my chest, I feel every second of his fury.

“They cut it out?” He snarls.

I shake my head. They didn’t cut it, they burnt it. They seared my skin until there was nothing but a mangled mess of blood and blisters and melted flesh.

They fixed me too. Everyone wanted to fix me.

I pull my hands up, feeling the sting of where it’s still not healed. Is it fucked up that I want that brand back? Yes, yes it is.

A stranger rushes in. He starts flapping around, grabbing instruments, asking Conrad questions and most of them, he can’t answer but I know I can.

I even try, but they simply tell me to calm down, as if my attempts at speaking are signs of distress.

I’m poked, prodded and examined as if I’m a science experiment and not a real person while I just lie there, I just let them do what they want.

It’s not like I stand a chance against them anyway.

When the stranger tries to get me to open my mouth though, that’s when I stop being compliant. I don’t want to show them, I don’t want to actually acknowledge it and hearing the words spoken will make it too real. I silently plead with Conrad. Perhaps this would be better if he wasn’t here, if he wasn’t seeing how truly broken his little doll now is.

No fix this time. No fix.

Magnus tries to take charge, as if he’s bored of this and it feels like it’s a waste of his time.

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