For the Hate of God

A History Lesson

Aralyn’s POV

***Trigger Warning: scenes of physical violence and emotional abuse

“Good morning, sunshine”, I heard a voice in close proximity before I felt water spill on me from a barrel. Silver shackles on my wrists and ankles were biting my skin viciously already. Water mixed with what smelled like wolfsbane made every inch of my tormented body sizzle and burn. The pain was unbearable. His minions laughed sinisterly. Then Marcellus came closer and grabbed my hair in a movement that felt like he was about to rip my scalp off. That tug forced me to lift my head and look straight into his face. And f***k, did he look good-that, crazy voice in my head again. What’s going on with me? I should have been mortified by the Satan that was holding my scalp in a gut-wrenching grip. Instead, I was looking at a few messy, stubborn, auburn locks which faded to a warm honey shade on their ends while they ran away from his neatly styled hair and formed almost a halo around his strong and masculine jawline, merging with his five-o-clock stubble. His hair was shaven on the sides, exposing tattoos with some occult-looking insignia. I think his hair would fall down to his muscled ass if it weren’t tied in a messy man bun. He looked like an angel and a devil, all in one, f***k, maybe like a Viking, I don’t know.

He picked up a fallen tear from my bruised face and suckled it from his fingers. “Good, tears and pain are going to be your only reality from now on”, he said calmly, without change of the grim and cold steel expression on his face. The only difference that happened was noticeable in his eyes. His eyes morphed from the beautiful dark, misty-fog-like grey to onix-ember pits with flickers of amethyst tendrils. It reminded me of Sentaya’s eyes. Strange. “Why? What did I do to you? Is this something to do with Malleteagan and his curse?” I asked, holding back my tears.

“Oh, looks like someone needs a little history lesson. See, my dearest mongrel,” he murmured in my ear, sending tingles and shivers down my spine.”…your lovely great-granny Selene and her love for warlocks and mutts is none of my concern. I am more interested in your granny, Noosha. Got it? Your mommy’s dearest bloodline,” He whispered ominously in my ear, with so much venom and bile. His scent of mint mixed with cedar, sandalwood, cinnamon, and musk. So unique and intoxicating. The mint was most prominent. I felt like I fell into the mint field, rolling and bathing in the most sensual mint bathe. It consumed all my senses and made my eyes roll to the back of my head. His scent did more torment to my body than wolfsbane and silver. Why is he having this effect on me? I should hate this wanker, be mortified of him, despise him, and all I feel when he is near me is…lust? I returned to reality as he moved a few inches away, still gripping my hair. He ripped out a few locks in the process, and my scalp was bleeding.

“I have nothing to do with this. Please let me go. I never even met Noosha. My mother told me she was her mother, but I had never met her. So, I am sorry for any plight that she caused you, but I really have nothing to do with this. Please, let me go; I promise you will never hear from me again. Please, please,” I begged desperately through tears. He chuckled cunningly.

“Beg bi.tch, that will get you nowhere. Norgarth!” he snarled while his chuckle morphed into rage, hatred and repulsion. The same spine-chilling demon who brought me here showed up with a silver whip, looking at Marcellus with uttermost respect, ready to obey and follow the orders. Marcellus released the grip of my hair, and my head, with a broken jaw, fell towards my chest. I winced and whimpered. My already scathed skin started to break and bleed under the whip of the devil I now know as Norgarth. My skin, mixed with blood, sweat, wolfsbane and silver, was now marred with profound wounds. I felt every lick of the whip penetrating my bones, my blood splashing and spraying the air. After countless lashes that seemed to last for hours, I thought I was finally dying. The pain was fiendish. I felt lonely, demeaned, abandoned and broken, both physically and mentally.

My screams and cries broke through the night, and the monsters around me seemed so satisfied, almost as if my pain and tears sated their hatred. Marcellus had a demented look reminiscent of the face of one experiencing cathartic pleasure. Oh, for f**k sake, why he couldn’t be ugly, so I could hate him back more easily. He looks like every woman’s erotic dream. I want to hate him, and I need to hate him. “But damn, he is so sexy even when he looks at me with eyes that radiate his repulsion towards me.” that twisted moronic masochistic voice in my head again. Am I going f*****g mental?

“Fuc.k you! Prick! I hate you, you psychotic moron!” I spewed at Marcellus with that last molecule of strength that held me awake.

“Now, now, that’s a really foul language to be used by royalty like yourself. Norgarth, fifty more,” Marcellus said with a calm tone of voice. I started to tremble and shake. How much more can one endure?

Norgarth looked reluctant but complied with his master’s command and continued his ordeal on my already tattered skin.

Although Norgarth gives me chills, he looks as if he is doing this solely because it was Marcellus’ order. I could have even sensed a few moments of hesitation. My body was drenched with my blood. No inch of my skin hadn’t bled. Sweat, silver and wolfsbane penetrate the wounds, causing the sizzling. A metallic taste of blood filled my mouth before I vomited blood and again went to the oblivion of darkness.