For the Hate of God

Who are you?

Aralyn’s POV

***Triggering content: scenes of physical and emotional abuse

Travelling from the white room to wherever the dungeons were was not long. I squinted to adapt to the darkness of that bloody dungeon. My hands were tied behind my back. I was in a kneeling position with legs as well tied around my ankles. Marcellus was just in front of my face. While he looked straight into my eyes with his now obsidian pits, which replaced his steely grey eyes, shivers went down my spine. With a dreadfully low and calm voice, he asked me: “Will you eat?” He emphasised every word with his eerily quiet voice, and his luscious mint scent wafted to me.

I felt sweat protruding to my skin along with primaeval and raw fear of him. My anxiety and fear of the devil before me, coupled with a sore and dry throat, rendered me unable to form a sound. I looked at him, trying to open my mouth to form a word, but I couldn’t. He furiously pivoted and side-kicked me directly to my barely recovered jaw, disfiguring it again.

I fell to the ground, bleeding again. He stomped on my face and kept stomping and kicking all over my body. I felt pain rippling through every cell of my body as blood splattered along with squelching sounds that mixed with sounds of cracking of my nose, jaw and ribs.

“I hate you. I so fuc.king hate you!!! Why that fuc.king waste of oxygen of your father didn’t end your fuc.king life when he killed that stupid who.re of your mother” he screamed and snarled through his punching and kicking ordeal. Then, as if he was cut off by something, he moved away from me. He looked as if he was in physical pain, too? He almost looked as if he was on the brink of collapse, the same feeling that I had right now. His eyes glazed to a raging inferno, and it looked like he was mind-linking someone. One of his minions quickly brought the chair while the other dragged him to it. He looked worse than I did, and I looked like a mangled mess with jutted ribs, dislocated jaw and blood pooling around me. His eyes went to obsidian again. I have figured out that this happens when his demon is in control, while when he is mind-linking or fuelled with emotions, his eyes turn black as charcoal but laced with neon, fiery crimson-like cracks. When his feelings are in check, he has the eyes of a sky before the storm, the darkest shade of grey.

His eyes bled obsidian crimson again, and his minions brought the soup and funnel.

They have strapped my maimed body on a chair and placed the fuc.king funnel in my mouth. I was trying to trash and resist, but to no avail. They poured the same scorching hot soup they wanted to give me in the white room into my mouth via the funnel. I gurgled and splattered in despair through screams, trying to avoid pipping hot liquid from entering and scalding my body from the inside. It burned so badly that I thought that they had given me some poison. Actually, it turned out it would have been a decent soup that I would maybe enjoy if it wasn’t scalding hot and poured forcefully down my throat. Marcellus waved his hand and gave them a cue that this was enough. He twitched on the chair as if he was in pain, too. The pain that he seemed to try to disguise behind his impassive face. Weird. Moron. I hate him.

I felt like someone had poured a pile of hot stones inside me. It was sizzling, scorching and scalding my guts. Oddly enough, my pain seemed to mimic the pain I could see on Marcellus’ face, although he dextrously tried to disguise it. He stood up from the chair and crouched next to me. He tugged my hair, seeking for my disfigured face to meet his gaze. And then he told me: “See, I have told you that you are going to eat one way or another.” he told me. In another moment of my utter stupidity, I spat on him, sloshing the remnants of soup with my spit straight into his face. He let my hair go, stood up, and took the handkerchief from his suit. While he wiped his face with a handkerchief, he spoke to his minions calmly but loudly enough so I could hear it. “Wolfsbane bath, then silver whiplashes until she faints. When she faints, wake her up for another round of wolfsbane bathing to keep her awake and entertained. When you finish, take her to Naevres to patch her up to get her ready for another round.” He said coldly and made his way out of the room.

"I hate you, you motherfucker. I hope you will live for eternity and watch everything you hold dear rot in hell and slow and excruciating pain. You disgusting piece of sh.it. Pervert!!! i***t!!!! I hate you, you fuc.king moron," I snarled and screamed at the top of my lungs while his face remained dreadfully expressionless. f***k, I just don’t know when to shut up. You have to be really dumb to poke an angry demon. The demon who already holds an unknown grudge against you and wants you dead. The demon who is stronger than you in every possible way. But f***k it, carpe diem, they are going to torture me anyway, and I have to vent off this rage and hatred that cumulated in me. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me crying again, that’s for sure.

Only a blazing fire that radiated from his pupils, surrounded by orbs of dark grey, indicated how much anger, hatred and grudge motherfucker held against me and how much I enraged him with my words. He clicked with his fingers, and one of his brainless minions took me over the shoulder in a caveman style and tossed me in a tub that stenches heavily of wolfsbane. My body started to convulse and burn as if on fire. I felt like I was in an incinerator. One of them grabbed my hair, dipping my head under the water. I have swallowed so much of that mud-like water. It burned my insides even more, and these were already blistered and chaffed with the boiling soup they poured down my throat. I felt my insides being ripped apart in a million pieces as they were blazing, scorching and sizzling in a heart-rending, searing, sublime pain. As I gargled for what I believed was the last breath, I looked forward to finally meeting my end. Oh gosh, let me die now. And I waited to be suffocated under the water. But just before I was to blackout, they pulled my head out, and I gasped for air loudly, causing a hysterical laugh among his hyenas. I started to tremble and shiver uncontrollably. My skin, marred with lashes, had now flared with ferocious burns that wolfsbane deepened on lash lacerations. Then they took me out and started to whip the sh.it out of me with a silver whip coated with wolfsbane.

Marcellus, thy creep somehow knew I was a Lycan on the paternal side, although I never shifted. And he obviously knew about the effects of silver and wolfsbane on Lycans. How, I have no idea, given that even I wasn't fully conscious of my Lycan side nor what it entails and how to summon my Lycan or her powers. I mean, I knew that I must have some aspect of Lycan in me, given that fuckwit of my father is first, original Lycan, and Lycan king, but what that exactly entails, I had no clue. I fell on the floor, my marred body finally gave out, and I blacked out to oblivion again.

“Boss, shall we continue?” was the last thing I barely heard in the distance, and everything went black and silent. Beautifully silent. Maybe I am finally dead.

“…dislocated…multiple fractures…burns on over 80% of body…internal burns… whiplashed to the bone…no one can survive that…” I have heard figments of what some unfamiliar voice in the distance said.

“Make it possible, or you will replace her as my new toy…she’s a Lycan and a demigod…make sure she is the medical miracle doc…your intestines will be scattered all over Oribus if she doesn’t…I am not done with this bi.tch yet…she needs to feel…pain…my mother…she deserves it… “This other voice sounded like Marcellus.

Those words were part of conversations I heard as I drove in and out of consciousness. These didn’t make any sense. And then that other voice again. So familiar. What did he call the voice-the doc?

Fu.ck, I need to wake up. After a while, as I went in and out of consciousness, I swear I could hear Sentaya’s voice again. And Marcellus.

“Be reasonable…can’t fight the bond…you will end up bitter and lost like her father…she is your destined mate for a reason…don’t fight it…if you do…this will be the beginning of your end.”

“I don’t give a flying f***k about mate bond…Noosha killed her…tortured her…she died begging for mercy…she made me watch it…I was a fu.cking child…watch my mother die…she and her lineage will have the same fate as my mother” His voice sounded furious but also as if he was fighting back the tears. That’s ludicrous. The son of the god of the underground fighting back the tears. Nope, he is the embodiment of malice. I think he is even worse than Malleteagan. Malleteagan killed my mother in front of my eyes in a demeaning and cruel way, but at least he was quick. This guy is taking his bittersweet time to torture me in ways that cannot possibly be imagined. There is no way he has a smidgen of emotion in that demonic body.

And then those weird foreign words rang back in my head on f*****g repeat.

I wanted to wake up to see what was going on, but the freaky voice in my head said: “No, Aralyn, rest. We need the energy for our first shift tonight. Your eighteenth birthday falls on the full moon, and you will need a lot of strength.”

“Who the f***k are you?” I asked.

“You will understand everything soon; rest now,” the voice in my head said before it went into the bottomless pits of my mind. And, as on command, I blacked out again.