Page 120 of Deliria

“I should make you pay, alright.” Alex says. “I should make you suffer.” He grabs my face, yanking it so hard white-hot pain shoots up my spine. “You killed my child.”

“It wasn’t yours.” I hiss. Even though I have no real logic to those words. It could have been his. It could have been his father’s too. My stomach twists at that thought, at the notion that I was carrying Vincent’s child.

With his other hand he lands a blow right into my belly and if I could, if the ropes allowed it, I know I’d be doubled over in pain.

“You killed my child.” He snarls again.

I stare up at him, confusion swirling. Why they fuck is he even saying that? Why would he even care? He’s going to kill me. This marriage isn’t even a real one.

He hits me again. And again.

I scream out as the pain becomes unbearable and then one final blow to my face makes everything go blank.

“Wanna see it, brother?”He says with that awful grin twisting across his face. “Wanna see what she really is?”

His voice rings out. Taunting, bringing me back out of my semi-conscious state. I blink furiously, forcing my eyes to focus. Forcing my mind to work.

And with horror I realise where I am, where we both are.

That it wasn’t some fucked up drug induced hallucination. That we’re really here, chained up, in a dungeon. And Alex, Alex is here, holding court, like he’s some god deciding our fates.

He holds up the syringe in front of my face and I swear my entire body locks up.

I know what it is, what it contains, and worse, I know exactly what will happen if he injects me with that shit.

My eyes dart to Rafe, pleading, begging for him to do something, anything. But there’s nothing he can do. Nothing either of us can do. We’re both helpless here. Both caught in his brother’s twisted game.

Alex strides back to me, grabbing my neck and just like always, he’s quick to jab me, quick to stick the needle in and drug me up.

As he steps back, he glances at his watch like he knows the precise time it takes for the drugs to take effect.

“On a normal person it takes ten minutes for GHB to work.” He states so matter-of-fact, like this is some sort of scientific experiment. “But Scarlett here, she’s tired, dehydrated and is suffering from malnutrition, so luckily for us, we don’t have to wait that long…”

My heart skips a beat at that word. GHB. I know exactly what it does from all the times he’s used it before. The first time I came to this house, the first time I met Vincent, he slipped it into my drink. It was why I was so compliant. Why I did what I did.

And why I woke up the next day certain the flashbacks were just crazy, alcohol induced nightmares. Because who the fuck would willingly do what I did? Who wouldn’t fight back when their soon to be father in law and new fiancé were effectively gang raping them?

“While we wait, why don’t we entertain ourselves with some light reading?” Alex says, producing a book from his pocket. He holds it up, right in my face so there’s no doubt what he has.

Rafe frowns, clearly confused by whatever the fuck this game is.

Alex clears his throat before he starts reading an extract, an entry, my words, that I’d scribbled down god knows how many weeks ago. He lets out a laugh as he gets to the end, and then he tears the page out, screwing it up and drops it to the floor.

“Is this how you did it?” He asks. “How you put it all together?”

I can’t answer. Not beyond a gulp. If he found the diary, did he find the other items? Did he find the phone too?

He tilts his head and I hold my breath, waiting for that bombshell to drop. God, if he knows, if he realises what has really been going on this entire time, then all of us are fucked. Me. Rafe. This entire plan goes to shit…

I know the gun is gone. I know I got rid of it days ago, when I was lucid, when I was me. That I knew the drugged up, forgetful version of me couldn’t use it for good so it had to go.

And those notes, I know those nasty little notes were also me, that the painting was me. That all of it was me, trying to warn myself, trying to make myself remember, trying to do everything I could to wake my old self up and ensure that the monster in front of me did not win this.

“I said...” Alex snaps, ripping out another page as I realised I missed whatever bullshit had come out of his mouth. He screws the paper up, then forces it into my mouth. I jerk my head, my tongue trying to push the paper out while he laughs.

“What’s the matter, Scarlett?” He sneers, “Prefer choking on a cock more than your own words?”

I glare back, somehow managing to spit the paper out and it lands in a wet heap at my feet. But what little relief that victory gives is gone almost immediately.

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