Mesmer by Cari Silverwood & Jennifer Bene

Author:Cari Silverwood & Jennifer Bene [Silverwood, Cari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-08T18:30:00+00:00

16

Hannah

Alone. Finally.

My eyes were open, but it seemed forever before I could see.

Elbows under me, I saw how my belly skin leaked blood in dribbly trails. They reformed as I clumsily brushed at them with my palm. The blood came from purply-blue-edged holes. Holes. In me. Fuck. I gaped at the injuries, ready to cry yet again. I’d done so much crying.

I lay back down, sniffling back the water in my nose. The table was hard and slippery beneath my back and ass.

The mesmers? I swiveled my head, wiping at my face with the back of a shaky, blood-smeared hand. Gone? The church seemed empty, though I could hear distant voices.

Ropes swayed from above, cutting the room into slivers. Higher up the ropes turned into chains, and above that was the ceiling and the birds.

Could I run?

A command reverberated. Stay.

*The twins said that after they took out the hooks. Hooks were in you.* Greta shook her head, grimacing. *Bastards. We should punish them.*

“Oh yeah. We totally should,” I croaked. My throat seemed lined with splintered glass. No wonder. I’d had more dicks in there than I could recall.

*Fuckers.*

Greta. I smiled. Least she was on my side, whatever she was.

The ceiling wobbled, timber seemed to creak and crack as if splitting, then everywhere shivered, blurred out completely. When focus returned, I saw Greta outside me again, and I was sitting up and staring at her. I couldn’t move from the table, remember? Commands.

*But you can let meee do it.* Gray girl smirked. *I got this. We shall punish the fuckers. Watch.*

The mesmers had left their supply of liquor and water and God knew what else, lined up on an old box.

*Bottles, bottles, bottles.* Greta giggled, dancing beside the box. *Let’s see what happens when we switch these, make one pour into the other.* Whiskey became a mix of wound-cleansing alcohol and the remaining liquor, so did a bottle of vodka. After that the rubbing alcohol bottle was dry even when tipped upside down. We… she filled it with water. Then Greta came back to me.

*Close your eyes,* she sang. *Rock-a-bye, baby…*

I closed them. Shivering with a mix of drab fear, exhaustion, and cold, I sank into a gratefully empty oblivion.

When I woke again, I was in Tomik’s arms and wrapped in a soft blanket. He was carrying me. There were stars above and I think a slope below us. The sky looked as if it paled. It was, I guessed, dusk. Unless I’d lost a full night. Not impossible.

*Dusk,* Greta whispered.

Carefully, Tomik sat, keeping me on his lap. He said nothing; perhaps he didn’t know I was awake. I dared not tell him. Not after everything.

Again my eyes leaked unwanted stupid tears. How dare he hurt me as he had? How dare he let them? I was alive, though. I’d survived. When would he let them do it again? I would kill myself next time he gave me a gun.

*No, you will not.* Determination stomped in with every word of Greta’s declaration.

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