Page 89 of Degradation
I draw in a breath that feels constricted, that feels so heavy.Who the fuck am I right now? What the fuck is this?
The girl is nothing to me. She is nothing. She’s a whore, a worthless bitch just like every other woman, and yet, no, I won’t say it, I won’t think it, I refuse to damn well admit it.
I narrow my eyes, clench my fists, telling myself that I must be tired, that’s all. I haven’t left this bloody Palace in weeks. Since the assassination attempt, no one has been allowed to leave with Gunther’s direct say so. And with me being the biggest, meanest of all the guards, he seems determined to keep me close.
Perhaps he’s convinced I’m the only one who would save him. Would bother to. I guess that little punch up didn’t exactly instil any confidence in the rest of us, did it?
“It will be done.” Gunther bellows, slamming his fist onto the table. “I want it, I demand it.”
Aldric lets out a low sigh, and he looks like he’s trying to reason with a toddler.
“Why don’t you take more wives?” He suggests. “No one needs to know. Marry all those other girls, then you can breed them all…”
“And have all the Brethren turn on me as a result?” Gunther snarls back. “Do I look stupid? Do I look like a fool? No, we must all be culpable, we must all embark down this road together, that way no one can challenge it, no one can question it. All the pigs have to eat from the same trough…”
It feels like he reveals some sort of secret with those words. As though he’s shown his hand.
He jolts, blinking rapidly, staring from face to face, while he mutters something incomprehensible under his breath. Yeah, the bastard knows he’s fucked up. He knows he’s said too much.
It’s moments like this when I wonder if he’s actually mad at all, if this isn’t just an act, a way to test us, to provoke us, to see how far he can push us.
His head snaps to the right, his eyes clamp on the only woman in the room.
He grabs her, slamming her back onto the table, repeating the same exercise he’s done so many times before. She’s adistraction, I realise, a way to change the subject, to shut everyone up.
He rips at her dress, tears the fabric right off her, letting us all see those beautiful lines I etched into her skin. They’ve healed so so well. Even in this moment, I can’t help but lick my lips as I see the damage.
She doesn’t scream, she doesn’t fight, she just lies there, silently letting the tears fall.
Gunther forces her legs open, propping them up against the backs of two chairs.
“Whore.” He groans as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of her. “Little whore.”
“Chapter Lord…” Aldric says, sternly, like he’s done with this shit.
Gunther shakes his head, screws his face up, but he continues the assault.
“Chapter Lord.” Someone else says louder.
Again, Gunther doesn’t do anything but continue on as if we’re all as enthralled by this display as he is.
“Little whore, you think you’re so much better than me. You think you’re so superior. I’m chosen by God. Me, not you.”
What he’s saying makes no sense. The girl hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t done anything.
Gunther looks about, stares from face to face as if he’s just remembered everyone else is in the room.
“Well?” He splutters, “Will no one get this bitch to come?”
Enough of them react, enough of them decide to get in on the act. They surround her, obstruct my view of her pretty skin.
She cries out, like she’s finally putting up a fight.
“Come, bitch.” One of them spits, and I can tell he’s doing something, touching her, assaulting her.
“Fucking come.” Another mutters, “then we can all get on with more important things.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Gunther shouts. “No one is leaving this room. Not until this bitch comes.”
