The Devil's Vengeance by Bella J

Author:Bella J [J, Bella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

No matter how much soap I lathered on my body, or how hard I scrubbed my skin, I could still feel the filth cling to me. It felt like parasites were eating at my flesh, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Gian was right. I was having nightmares—but not of him. Not of Darion. It was the insects that crawled all over me, tearing me apart piece by piece until they reached bone. There was nothing I could do to stop them. I was in that cage, locked inside and unable to get away. I had no choice but to let them devour me like I was nothing but weak prey. Every night I fought them in that tiny steel prison. Every night I would remind myself to breathe, to not scream, because if I did, they’d creep inside my mouth by the hundreds and feast on my insides. The fear was paralyzing while I waited for it to end, suffocating on my own vomit because I was too scared to open my mouth.

Every night, they would come, waiting in the corners of the room until I fell asleep.

Water cascaded down my back as I leaned against the shower wall, the wet locks of my hair hanging down my face. Whether the water was ice cold or scorching hot, I felt nothing. I didn’t feel anything anymore. Every day, I’d walk through the garden hoping to feel something, hoping the colors and scent of the flowers would stir new life inside me, that the fresh air and beauty of the outside would make me feel less…numb. But it had been weeks, and there was nothing but this dark, empty hole inside me that kept pulsing as it sucked more life out of me. Killing me slowly.

“Daniela?” Gian knocked on the door. “You okay? You’ve been in there a long time.”

I turned off the faucet and wiped the water from my face. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Gian. My husband. The man who once hated and despised me like a cold-hearted beast had now become my savior. It had been so long, and not once did he make me feel like I was neglecting him as a wife. In fact, he hardly ever touched me. Kissed me. Held me. Today, outside by the pool, was the most contact we had since I came home from hospital. I appreciated him keeping his distance, and not having certain expectations of me. But a part of me wanted him to take me, to claim me once again. Maybe then I’d feel something. Perhaps if I felt the touch of the man I loved, it would cure the numbness I carried around every goddamn day.

Maybe he was the one who could chase away the parasites that mauled me at night.

Without grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the shower and walked past the mirror. I never looked at my reflection anymore. Seeing my scars would be like acknowledging their existence, and I didn’t want that because they were marred reminders of what Darion had taken from me.

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