Page 78 of Eternal

Tristan snorts, “I never did anything you didn’t want.”

“You hurt me. You raped me. You… broke me.” I start to tear up as every memory resurfaces at once, “But no more. You can’t have a hold on my life like that anymore. I’m not a victim anymore. I refuse. No. I’m a survivor. I survived your sadistic torture. But you will not survive mine.”

With that, I pull up on the tool’s handle, bending his finger backward. Each snap of his fingers sends a tingle running down my spine, and I relish the feeling it brings me. The strangled screams that erupt from deep within his throat give me pure joy. I throw my head back as he yells more insults and smiles. My soul and mind are calm and quiet for once. Soren watches me work my magic with a rare, genuine smile playing on his face.

“It’s so mesmerizing to watch your methods, Freya,” He murmurs, approaching me, and smearing the blood that paints my face further into my skin.

The metallic taste stains my tastebuds, and I desire more. I want him to feel the pain he inflicted on me for all those years, and even then… There isn’t enough time in the world to torture this man to make up for how mentally fucked-up he left me. But this gift Soren has given me is better than anything I could have ever given him. And it’ll take years of gifts and many blow jobs to compensate for this. But for now, I’ll continue recreating the infamous ‘Misery’ scene on his miserable ass.

“Want to recreate the famous scene from the first movie we watched together?” I ask sweetly.

He pauses for a moment, trying to recall what it was, but he has a lightbulb moment. A smile erupts on his face as he walks away from me, gathering the things he needs.

Soren approaches me again with an end table and a smaller toolbox. Setting the table down, he straps his legs down, resting the box between his legs, right above his ankles. Tristan’s eyes widened, recognizing what was about to happen, especially when he was being approached with a sledgehammer. Soren drags it on the ground for a touch of theatrics but swings it onto his shoulder.

“My darling, will you give me the honors of one ankle? ‘Misery’ was always my favorite book.” Soren pleads a manic smile dances on his face, and I can’t help but fall further in love with him.

“By all means.” I gesture with a hand, arms crossing over my chest, and Tristan’s eyes trail to my chest. Even when he knows I will be his demise, he can’t help but ogle what he lost. “Make sure it hurts.” My eyes stay trained on Tristan, but I see Soren make a couple of fake practice swings to ensure his angle is correct.

“What are you talking about, darling? It’ll feel like butterfly KISSES!” On the final word, he lands his blow, the sound of bone splintering, and Tristan’s screeches send a vibration of pleasure over my body again.

I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Maybe I’m in my element? Regardless, I want to embrace this new me. She’s strong. A survivor. And a fucking badass. Soren doesn’t seem to mind, either.

“My turn!” I smile, skipping over to him.

Unlike Soren, I don’t give Tristan the mercy of theatrics and opt to just take a blow to his ankle as soon as my fingers connect with the handle. Soren made it look easy to achieve the 90-degree angle of his leg. I didn’t get that; it’s broken but not splintered. Pouting, I look at Soren.

“You made it look easy.”

Soren smiles and chuckles. “It’s okay. It will just take a couple of swings to achieve the perfect angle. I’m sure Tristan doesn’t mind waiting.” Tristan opens his mouth to say something, but Soren is behind him in a flash, forcing his mouth shut. “Continue, baby.”

I swing again, and this blow does get me the 90-degree angle I was hoping for. I drop the sledgehammer, and my body is full of pleasure. I rush to Soren, and he releases Tristan, who screams and screams.

“Can I kill him now?” I ask, resting my cheek on his chest, holding him to me.

“I want to torture him one more way, then we will do it. Together,” Soren says before claiming my mouth with his.

He pulls away from me for a moment to unstrap Tristan’s legs and set them back on the ground, the sides of his feet and ankles resting on the floor. Soren is immediately behind me again, pulling me to stand directly in front of Tristan. He pulls outmyknife, slices my shirt open, and reveals my breasts to Tristan. Despite the fact I’ve mutilated his body, his gaze still stays trained on my breasts.

My body freezes as the permeating air of blood and despair clings to my skin as my shirt becomes useless.

Tristan’s gaze is glazed over, as though he can barely process what is happening to him. Not that it matters to me. He can no longer hurt me. The tables have turned, and it’s my turn to hurt him. Blood pools at my feet, and I know we don’t have much more time before he’s dead.

Soren palms my breasts with his bloody hands, smearing blood over my stiffened nipples.

“Doesn’t she look breathtaking with your blood painted across her body?” Soren says into my ear, but talking to Tristan.

“She looks like a whore,” He shoots back.

Soren works his way to my shorts, slipping them down and tossing them to the side. “On your knees,” He commands into my ear.

I do just that, resting my elbows on Tristan’s lap. Not giving a fuck in the world. The amount of evil this man can do will far surpass anything Soren and I could ever do to him. Soren kneels behind me, and I hear the unzipping of his pants. My hands rest on Tristan’s knees as he bends me over, thrusting himself into me. Immediately, I screw my eyes shut and let out a moan.

“How does it feel to watch me get fucked in front of you, Tristan? You look upset. Remember when you did this to me? Then allowed your coworkers to rape me forlosinga fucking bet?” I say, panting with each of Soren’s harsh thrusts.

“I remember that. But you enjoyed it like the whore you are. You were never raped. You gladly took their cocks. You only claimed rape because you were embarrassed by how good it felt.”

Anger boils in my chest as Soren continues his assault. I spot the knife next to him in the corner of my eye. I grab it and bring it to his face, cutting across his mouth, hoping that that’ll shut him the fuck up. As fucked up as Tristan is, he laughs. I start to protest when Tristan spits blood at me, red covering my breasts.

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