Corrupt Shadows: A dark, paranormal stalker romance by Rebecca L. Garcia & CM Hutton

Author:Rebecca L. Garcia & CM Hutton [Garcia, Rebecca L. & Hutton, CM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ghost Rose Publishing
Published: 2023-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Lorcan

I try to kick myself out of the nightmare, but nothing works.

Emptiness reigns. Loneliness claws the inside of my skull as I realize I’m back here. A place I thought I escaped long ago. My eyes are open, but I can barely see. Time has no meaning; it exists only in the expanse of the gaping chasm within my chest.

A chill creeps over my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. A breeze drifts through the stale air from a seemingly nonexistent source. Everything aches, down to the follicles of my hair. I roll over for a change of scenery, the inky darkness swirling before my eyes. The new position is no more comfortable than before, only a fresh section of body to punish with the unforgiving stone floor. The dampness on the stone beneath me leaches into my body, settling into my bones and coating them with frost.

The silence is overwhelming. My own breath is too loud in my ears. I swear at times I can hear my stomach gnawing on itself as it hungers. The meager scraps from the small ration of food are long gone. I bend my legs tightly against my body, the beating of my heart anything but soothing as my brain throbs from its ceaseless pulsing.

Panic blossoms in my gut as I try to remember the last time I saw another living creature. My brothers inflicted the simplest and brutal form of torture imaginable. Isolation.

I lose time, floating in a state of blurred consciousness. Oily blackness slithers through my veins, slowing my heart and thickening my blood. My head throbs as my veins swell almost to the point of bursting, but I break through into consciousness before it can happen.

My vision clears again, but nothing has changed. I stare unseeing at what I imagine is the ceiling. Manic thoughts creep through my mind, and my soul withers just a bit more. I struggle to sit upright, causing my head to swim and nausea to churn in my belly. When it settles, I crawl to my threadbare blanket in the corner farthest from the entrance to my cage.

I settle my ass on the ground, my tailbone making itself aware in my gaunt, starving body. I pull my legs up to my chin and lean back against the bars. My skin burns at the contact, the sizzle of my searing flesh audible. What little magic I’ve stored up since the last time I indulged my craving for self-inflicted torture dribbles from me and freshens the wards of my cage. This pain is the only thing that makes me feel and reminds me that I’m still alive.

Pain is the one thing I can count on to always be there for me. It will never leave me wanting or begging for its cruel company. I pull my holey blanket around my shoulders, groaning when the slight movement allows the bars to mark a fresh part of my skin.

I don’t fucking care anymore. No one loathes me more than I loathe myself.

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