Thorns and Promises

I’ll be Good

[Trigger Warning! This chapter contains themes of kidnapping, S/A, domestic abuse, torture, and drugging. Please read at your own discretion.]

{Lilliana’s POV}

Adriel slammed the door shut behind me, leaving me in pitch black darkness. This place, this cell, this was my home now.. the beautiful prison I had now only a shattered hopeful memory.

I stumbled to the back wall, turning around and lying my back against it, before sliding down to sit. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the cold, damp stone and sighed, allowing myself a moment, only this moment, to cry. Then I had to think.. to plan my escape.. but, if I leave.. if I escape, where would I even go? If I went back to the castle.. my father would either marry me off to the first man he could find.. or have me killed, and say it was the person who kidnapped me that did it. People would pity him, and he’d be able to continue his rule uncontested. My father probably sees my disappearance as a blessing.. though, Adriel and the King don’t really seem interested in bartering me back to my father.. I know I’m missing something. There is a reason behind what they’re doing.. I should’ve been able to find it. Sadly, the throbbing in my head, knees, and hands, along with this awful woozy feeling from whatever Rosewood gave me is keeping me from processing properly.

Forget it.. I’ll figure it out later.. for now, I just need some sleep. I fell over onto my side, pulling my bloodied knees to my chest, my body trembling from the cold. I closed my eyes once again, and waited for sleep to overtake me. It took hours, but finally, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When next I woke, I felt my whole body ache, I didn’t know how long I had slept, but I knew it must’ve been quite some time. I whimpered, and tried to move, but my body felt heavy, and weak. I looked to my hands, seeing my fingertips had turned purple, and the cuts on my palms were red, and inflamed. Probably infected, they looked infected at least. I’d known my share of infected wounds, I’d cleaned my own, and even had to stitch up a wound or two before. This was different though, I was alone, with no medicine, in a freezing cell. If the hypothermia didn’t kill me.. the infection would. The thought was enough to give me a burst of energy, as I flung myself backwards, slamming into the wall. I looked up, seeing a chain, I needed to reach it, to make some sort of noice. My throat was dry, and hoarse, I couldn’t scream.. I could careful groan. I reached up towards the chains above me, but I couldn’t reach, no matter how hard I tried.

“Come.. on..” I muttered, my voice careful coming out, as I strained to reach the chains again. I moved up slightly, before my body fell back against the ground with a thud, I couldn’t do it.. I couldn’t even reach the stupid chains.. I was going to die here, alone. My eyes began closing on their own as I fought to keep them open, no.. please.. I needed to stay awake, I needed to call for help.. I needed.. help.

A sigh left my lips, as my eyes shut once again, and I was unable to hold onto my consciousness. This time, nightmares kept me company in my dark, cold cell. Visions of my father’s cruel torment over the years causing me to cry out. I couldn’t be here.. I couldn’t live through this again. Images of being strapped down to that same table.. my stomach lurched at the sight of it. My arms and legs restrained, as he lifted my shirt, before pulling out his knife. I knew it then that he hated me.. truly hated me. He said this was my penance.. for taking away his wife.. for not being born a boy, for ruining his line. His hand was steady as he began carving those runes into the tender skin of my stomach. Deep, precise incisions, and once he was happy with his work, he’d let me go, but not before reminding me that this wouldn’t be the last time. At first, I kicked, screamed, cried, and begged him to stop. After a while, I had finally come to terms with it, I knew that nothing I did or said would have any impact on him. He simply didn’t care about me whatsoever, so I stopped. I laid still, and silent as he carved up my skin, I showed no emotion, I just let him hurt me, until he was done, then I’d leave, and that would be that, until the next time he was angry. My father was a coward.. I knew that, he’d always been afraid to go to war, or actually fight anyone about anything. I was the only thing he wasn’t fearful of, so I was the only thing he’d been able to take out his anger on. His hatred of me, if had been the only emotion he’d shown me at all, and I’d accepted it, because it was at least something.

My eyes fluttered open, and I could see someone rushing into the cell, three people, all of them moving closer. My eyes closed again, as I was unable to hold them open. I saw my father standing over me again, and cried out. “No! Please! Don’t touch me!”

“She’s delirious..” I heard a woman say, recognizing the voice as Hettie.

I opened my eyes again seeing her there, Adriel behind her, and behind him another man, bigger than Adriel, his eyes were a golden, amber color as they pierced into me. It was the only thing I could focus on, until my eyes closed again, and I saw my father, sharpening his knife. “No! Please! I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to.. please..” I cried, my body trembling.

“What’s wrong with her?” I heard a voice somewhere in the distance, it sounded like Adriel.

“Her wounds are infected.. she’s running a fever.. a high fever, and her fingers and toes are blue! You boys have really done it this time, take her back to my cottage, and pray that she makes it through the night, or I’ll make the two of you sorry you were ever born!” Hettie snapped, but I couldn’t see her, I could only hear her voice, as I saw my father moving closer.

I felt arms around me, and tried to struggle, but was too weak. “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.. please.. don’t hurt me again..” I whimpered, tossing my head from side to side. “I promise.. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.”