(James)
Cold water slaps my skin. I jolt awake–breath ragged, heart pounding. My body feels tight, heavy. Through half-lidded eyes, I catch a figure in the dim light, watching me through a gaze so sharp it slices through my spine.
I lean my head against the chair. I know that figure.. The man who tortured me for 2 years every time I was disobedient or just too damn slow for his liking.
His voice is deep, controlled–anger simmering beneath every syllable. "Brother, I've heard you've been hanging out with a vampire."
I barely lift my eyes. "Hmm? What are you talking about?" I haven't seen anyone. My dear brother made sure of that—isolated me like I was contagious. My sarcasm earns me a slap. Sharp. Immediate.
I turn my head. Another man stands beside my brother—a warrior, his obedient puppet. The same bastard who knocked me out. It hurt. Bad.
My brother stares at me—disdain in his eyes, sharp enough to wound. But I'm too broken to feel anything but the physical. I can feel it, "Brother, I'm not in the mood to play with you. Answer my questions and you won't be punished."
"What vampire?" I ask. "The only one I've seen was that woman in the garden. Red eyes."
My brother, who tormented me for the past two years, who looked nearly indestructible, like nothing in the world can bother him, but somehow he looks unsettled by this information. He narrowed his eyes, "What did she look like?"
I lifted my brow as if he were insane, "Uhh, she had red hair."
I tried to speak, but the pain was radiating through my stomach like the pain was sucking me in, and I nearly gasped out, but I had to keep speaking, and I knew that was foolish. My brother wasn't the type to keep his word unless in a good mood.
And for some weird reason, my brother hated me for my whole life.
My brother raised his brow, "Nirya, you mean?"
I shook my head, "No, you're talking about the vampire queen?"
I frowned in sarcasm, "Why are you asking about her? Wasn't she at the peace summit with you guys?"
Is this some kind of test, my brother, or does he just want me to go through more pain?
Besides, she's a vampire queen known for her hatred toward the werewolves, and her cruelty and savageness are well-known throughout the realm. Why is he asking me these kinds of questions?
My brother coldly speaks, "She escaped; she wasn't at the summit."
His eyes bored into me with a look of suspicion, like I was up to no good, like I planned this. I frowned, "Brother, regardless, I've never met her."
"Think about it, she's a queen, and why would she want to talk to a slave boy like me?"
His eyes gleamed with sharpness, pondering over my words.
"You'd better be right about this."
He smiled with a tinge of madness, "If I found out you were lying, you would be in a world of pain, my little brother."
He walked toward me and gently petted my head like I was a pet cat, and his touch nearly caused my spine to shudder. As much as I hate to admit it, his touch nearly makes me nauseous with fear, after all, he's my tormentor, and once my family.
Lastly, he walked toward the door. I sighed, thinking I had escaped a punishment, but for some reason, I felt unease; he never let me off the hook like this before. He always found pleasure in my pain.
When he reached the door handle, he paused, and I could hear a tinge of amusement, "You know what to do."
The door closed with a silent bang that settled my punishment, and the next thing I knew, sharp pain was inflicted across my chest, and red liquid bloomed across my skin, and I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose, trying to survive the next 30 minutes.
The pain was immense, nearly causing me to pass out, and the pain would come and go before the pain lightened up, and sometimes in that moment, I wished I could die, but that's impossible. After the punishment, they would send a doctor to look at my injuries.
I lay on the floor. Yes, I don't have any beds. So I slept on this hard floor for the past two years. The first time I slept on the floor, it was nearly impossible to sleep, and the next morning, my back would ache every time.
There was no cure. Just getting used to it.
The doctor didn't glance at me, and roughly plastered the medicine on my skin, and I had to grit my teeth calmly like I was not feeling any pain, and the old man rose to his feet, and glanced at me briefly, "Take this every morning, and you should heal nicely within a month."
His eyes remained blank, which was hard for me to read. It would be nice to have an ally in this hellhole that used to be my home, but nope.
I took the medicine from him. "Thank you."
He turned around and left my room silently, and the door opened, and surprisingly, my brother entered the room with his menacing aura that put me on edge. Although he has a gentlemanly facade, anyone close to him knows he's like a savage beast when he's provoked.
My brother strode into the room like he owned it, and he smirked at me, "Big brother, I have a special surprise for you."
His words put me on edge, "What surprise?"
He smiled, "You're coming to the peace summit with me."
I should feel relieved. But with him, relief always comes before the next blow.
His brow furrowed, "You stink, time for you to take a bath."
I arched my brow and looked at my clothes. Well, whose fault is that? He masks kindness with cruelty, and I knew taking a bath was going to be painful.