Page 78 of At Your Mercy
“Please—” Mom sobbed, twisting toward one of the men as they forced her down to her knees on the carpet. “They’re just children, please—”
Dad tried to reach for her hand, but a boot pressed down on his back, keeping him down.
The lamp by the couch cast a warm glow across the room, a strange contrast to what was happening.
The man in charge stood in the center of the room, watching my family kneel in a crooked line on the living room rug. Herolled up his sleeves as though he were preparing for something mundane.
When his eyes found me again, he smiled faintly. “Come here, Andreas.”
I didn’t move.
He took a slow step toward me, the light catching his face. His green eyes looked like they had golden flecks in them, shining in the lamplight, his expression calm, nearly kind.
“Don’t make me ask twice,” he murmured.
My legs carried me forward before I even realized I’d started moving. When I stopped a few feet away, he reached out, cupping my chin between his fingers. The touch was gentle, but it made my stomach turn.
He tilted my face toward the light, studying me like a piece of art. “Such a striking boy,” he whispered. “Those eyes… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I couldn’t stop trembling.
“Don’t touch him!” Dad shouted, his voice raw.
The man didn’t look at him. He just smiled, still holding my face in his hand. “You know,” he said conversationally, “there’s something poetic about purity born into corruption. I see a child like this, and I think—ah, a mistake. A piece of heaven dropped where it doesn’t belong.”
“Please,” Mom sobbed, “we’ll do anything—just—”
The scary man let go of me. His expression softened almost tenderly as he crouched in front of my family. “You already did something. You talked.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now you have to understand—actions have consequences. Don’t they, pretty boy?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even breathe.
He turned his head slightly, looking back at me with a faint smile. “It’s alright. You’ll learn.”
Henri, being so brave, asked the man, “Are you going to hurt us?”
The man tilted his head, smiling at my little brother. “Yes.”
I jerked upright with a gasp, clutching the sheet to my chest. My heart was pounding, every beat sharp and uneven. For a second, I didn’t know where I was—the sound of screaming, the weight of a hand on my shoulder, and the thick stench of blood was everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Slowly, my darkened bedroom came into focus. There was a faint glow bleeding through the window blinds, throwing lines of light across the small room. My room was as dismal as it always was, but still, the familiarity was comforting compared to the scene in my mind.
“Shit,” I whispered, dragging a trembling hand through my hair. My skin was clammy with sweat, and the blankets were twisted around me like I’d been fighting them.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth. It didn’t help much.
Maybe it would have if the nightmare had been just that—a nightmare, not real.
I pushed myself out of bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor as I walked from the bedroom to the bathroom.
I flicked the light switch by the sink, squinting as my eyes adjusted to the sudden harsh light. I took in my reflection in the mirror, noting that I really should wipe it down with some glass cleaner sometime soon. Maybe I’d do some spring cleaning if I were still alive by the end of the weekend.
Wes had explained the plan to me several times, but I still felt a sense of doom whenever I thought about what was going to happen. And the more I thought about it, the worse the knot in my stomach got.
I couldn’t help but feel that if things went wrong, it’d be my fault.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the images out of my head.
