Page 49 of Beautifully Shattered
The dungeon.
Just knowing this place exists creeps me out.
I remember reading about it in the newspaper last year, back when the investigation blew open a trafficking ring and the illegal sex club operating out of the house. The dungeon was put in by the owner, who called himself Master, and the evidence they found in there was damning.
That gives me the ick, but the fact it’s currently holding someone I want dead is enough for me to step down under the earth. Because it’s time for some justice. Or vengeance. However you want to look at it.
The metal door is bolted shut, but I quickly slide it across and shove it open.
The room is already lit up, probably controlled by the switch I flicked on upstairs, so I quickly scan the space.
This end holds a table, some tools, and a couple of chairs. At the other end… a naked woman with dark short hair, sticking up in wild clumps, is curled in on herself.
Closing the door, I watch her flinch, but she doesn’t look up. She doesn’t know it’s me.
Chains rattle at her wrists as she shifts, stretching out to the wall and bolted in place.
She’s not going anywhere.
In the corner is a bucket, and I cringe as I realise the pungent stench that nearly has me gagging is coming from it.
Urine. Faeces. Vomit.
A vile shiver ripples through me.
“Because of you, my baby is dead.”
My words come out loud, echoing off the walls, and in an instant, Wendy’s head jerks up, her dark eyes locking with mine, wide with shock. She stares at me before glancing behind me like she’s expecting Ringo to walk in.
Tough luck, bitch.
“My husband said he kept you alive for me.” I step forward, surprised by how steady my voice sounds.
I should feel nervous right now… right?
Shouldn’t I be freaking out? Shaking? Crying?
I’m not,though.
What I feel is colder than that. A cocktail of numbness, and something that tastes almost like anticipation.
Wendy scoffs. “You think he kept me alive foryou?” She shakes her head slowly, a bitter smile twisting her sunken face. “If that’s what he told you, then he was lying. He kept me alive forhimself. I told you. He likes his sex violent. But you wouldn’t listen.”
She pushes herself up with effort, her legs trembling beneath her. Her naked flesh clings to her bones, every rib visible. Every joint too sharp. She’s malnourished. And broken.
But not broken enough.
“He kept me alive so he could fuck me likethis.” She gestures to her frail, ruined body, and I frown before I can stop myself, her eyes flaring with victory.
But I’m not buying her bullshit.
“More lies,” I deadpan, and she laughs manically, the high-pitched sound grating on my nerves like nails running down a chalkboard.
I know that laugh, though. The unhinged sound used to throw off your enemy.
It’s the same one I used at the chapel, when my mum and Minister Banes thought they were going to force me to marry Daniel.
That kind of laugh isn’t about joy. It’s pure madness wrapped in defiance.
