Vintage Memories

Chapter Twenty-Six "That's The Thing About Illicit Affairs"

Hello Readers,

    Sorry for the uncommonly long wait. I have a few things going on in my life at the moment. I am currently working on my first original novel that I intend to publish. It's a psychological thriller that deals with the deteriorating relationship between a mother and daughter, and it's not certain whether or not it is a demon that resides within their new home, or the throes of mental illness that runs in the family. I am also working on a short story submission for a contest with a whopping $20,000 first place prize. The deadline is March 1st, so I'm pretty occupied with that as well. Still and all, I'm still pouring everything into giving you all a quality story until the end.

    Thank you and enjoy this climactic chapter, and the chapters to come!

(HUGE) Trigger Warning: Although there are no detailed scenes that portray, the chapter includes graphic references of rape/sexual assault, trauma, and physical and mental abuse.

The meager opening of the hotel front door sounded raucous in the silence of the slumbering hotel. Angel peeked into the darkened room, scanning for any signs of life. He held his breath as he slipped in through the small parting, moving excruciatingly slow as he closed the door. Once he heard the muted click of it locking into place, he finally allowed himself take a breath.

Turning to walk further into the entryway, he bit back a grunt for the quivers of pain that plagued his body. Angel lumbered into the dark entry of the hotel. Despite his unambiguous, limping gait, his footfalls remained as airless as he could to keep from alerting anyone. He had buttoned his jacket up to its highest viable fastening, flipping up and pinching the collar closed with a clenched fist. An electric shock of pain came every time the fabric rubbed against the plethora of wounds he hid underneath, blood slowly starting to seep through. The walk back was hell, to say the least. Each step equal parts humiliating as it was painful.

Keep your eyes down; hold your head low, he reminded himself during his long trek back, feeling the burning, questioning stares of passing demons in his back as he limped along the sidewalk. Each one plunged him into the what he thought was nadir of his pride, only for the next one to send him deeper.

Val never shared an ounce of mercy in the face of Angel's acquiescence. It would only spur the overlord to take his torture further and further until he got whatever desired reaction he sought after. Sometimes, it left him just on the brink of his second death, only to cease just before granting him that sweet escape. It wasn't new: being beaten within an inch of his life, or being violated in manners only the most depraved can conjure up. Even with the familiarity for his proprietor's modus operandi punishments, it did little to build endurance and quell the pain, during or after. Amid, his senses were always at their sharpest, no matter how hard he tried to detach.

Nails like hot fiery pokers scorched the skin, leaving open, burning wounds that carded through his fur like vast canyons of crimson; fists with a skeletal rigidity that felt more like jagged rocks pelted the body, causing him dizziness and disorientation; the forceful intrusions that rocked him with vile turbulence, and made his organs nauseatingly bind and clench. Howbeit, interspersed sayings uttered throughout his torture were the real wounds; intangible, yes, though, the ones that couldn't be healed with gauze and bandages.

Look what you made me do; After all I've done for you; I made you the star you are and this is how you thank me; You get what you fucking deserve; Useless slut!

And, after that wicked fill of torture was satiated, he would sit back with the nonchalant lighting of a smoke, and on the exhale: I hope you learned from this; Do better next time; I do this because I love you.