Hell is Lost | Book I

Chapter 13

I trembled with fear after I met his penetrating gaze. He was burning with anger as he stood in the doorway and saw the lifeless body of Agnes in my arms. He looked as if he could torch me and turn me into ashes in seconds.

He charged towards me and I squirmed. There was no getting away because I had Agnes in my lap. If I had tried to move, her head would've hit the ground. So I just sat there and watched him as he ran towards me.

"Get away!" he aggressively yanked my arm and pushed me away. I tripped and fell on my elbows, bruising a little bit of my skin. I let out an inaudible whimper and gasped for air.

I shuddered with fear and stayed where he had pushed me. I was scared of him but also worried for Agnes.

I nervously looked at him as he lifted Agnes to her feet and sat her down in one of the chairs. "It's not her fault," Agnes faintly spoke as she motioned in my direction.

Damian bent down on his knees to get to Agnes' height. "Are you okay?" He took her hand in his hand and asked her politely.

His voice was gentle and soft, but he looked flustered and helpless, like his whole world had crumbled down.

Agnes was awake now, and could see around her. "It's not her," she again repeated, for fear Damian would hurt me. But he didn't pay heed to it and kept caressing her hand. In that moment, he only saw Agnes and nobody else.

He then rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up and reached for the glass on the table, and filled it right up to the brim. "Here's some water," he brought the glass closer to Agnes' mouth and made her take some sips.

I looked at his exposed arms, they were strong, with veins bulging out like roads, leading to some mysterious destination. His pale arms were marred with cuts and bruises, which made me wonder, "Did he beat someone up? Was there another person that he had kidnapped somewhere?"

I gazed at him as he gently cared for Agnes. He looked so kind and caring, just like how I had seen in the picture earlier.

I had never seen him like this--so vulnerable, tender and.....humane.

"It's just the low blood sugar and nothing else," Agnes smiled a little and assured Damian, who still held on to her hand tightly.

Damian took a deep breath and blurted out, "I have told you not to work too much. There are so many people who can do everything...but" he was about to finish off his sentence but Agnes interrupted him, "It's nothing, I'm healthy."

"You are certainly not, and you need to rest now," Damian carefully picked Agnes up in his arms and carried her to her room.

I waited till he left the room, and then picked myself up and pulled a chair out to sit. My elbows were sore, he had pushed me so badly. Tears flowed down as I thought about how soft he was with Agnes, and how cruelly he treated me.

The weather outside was also not in my favour. Dark stormy clouds had engulfed the sky, thunder was roaring in a distance, and in the blink of my eye, rain had started pouring down hard.

I was in pain, and it was cold and I was feeling dizzy. I laid down my head on the table and drifted into an involuntary doze.

But my nap was short-lived as Damian suddenly came and smacked his hand violently on the table, sending a vibration through the hard wooden table, "Wake up!" he shouted.

I woke up abruptly and looked around in confusion. He was standing right above me. I stood up panicking as I saw his angry eyes boring deep into me.

He grabbed me by my neck, took a handful of my hair in his hold too and yanked my face closer to his. "Listen to me, Hannah Wallis."

Hannah Wallis

This was the first time he had called me by my name. Until now I was like a nameless captive in his home. Hearing my name from his mouth also reminded me of who I was, which I had forgotten living there. The sense of my identity was coming back to me.

I looked up at him as he tightened his clasp on my neck while staring directly into my eyes. His other hand grasped my arm which was trying to fight him off. "You are hurting me," I cried.

He squeezed my arm and snapped, "I don't care if it hurts!"

I sobbed and looked at him helplessly. It was hard to move as his hold was too strong, and it was aching everywhere.

"Don't take my kindness for love," he growled in a low voice and gazed at me sharply. His eyes fumed with vicious temper.

Had I been a strong and tall man, I would have punched him right in the face, for I felt a strange sense of defiance and rebellion inside me after he accused me of taking his 'mercy' as love--but I was small and shivering with fear and there was nothing I could do.

However, something forced me and I screamed out loud, "Then why did you kidnap me and bring me here?"

My pride might have pushed me to question him, but my body feared the consequences.

He looked at me, his eyes got darker. "Because I could!"

His voice sounded like thunder.

"Listen to me," he leaned in closer and started again, "You are just an object to me. You see this furniture," he yanked my head and forced me to look at the nearby chair. "You are a piece of furniture for me. I saw you, I liked you ...and I wanted you in my house. THAT'S IT!"

I wept as I listened to his harsh words. They felt like stabbing wounds. I looked at him with pleading eyes and implored him as to why he was so mean to me. "Damian," his name involuntarily slipped from my lips.

His face grew firmer and he asked in a deep voice,"What did you call me?"

"Da.." before I could get his name out of my mouth, he choked me harder and inched in closer to my face,"You do not call me by my name. Call me Sir."

I didn't respond and it angered him, "I said, CALL ME SIR!" he thundered.

"Sir," I mumbled.

Trust me when I say this, it would not have affected me so much, if it were only for the violence. For I had gotten used to his violent outbursts, I would have even taken a slap across my cheek or a blow to my back--it was the heartless words that jolted me ruthlessly and hurt me badly.

He loosened his grip and released me free and stormed out of the room.

I slumped down onto the table and started crying uncontrollably. I was angry and wanted to hit him. I gritted my teeth and clasped my hands in a fist as furious rage, coupled with a hurt pride took hold of me.

I got up and ran upstairs to my room. Reaching inside, I slammed the door behind me and locked it.

Tears kept rolling down as I stood motionless with my back against the door and slid down on the ground like a pathetic mess.

I moved my eyes across the room and looked for something to distract me. Then suddenly my eyes fell on the diary lying on the bedside table.

I crawled on my fours and seized it. I opened a blank page and started scribbling fiercely on it.

I hate you Damian Blackwood!

You are the devil! You have no heart and you are full of darkness.

You and your non-existent soul belong in hell!!

No wonder why your mother abandoned you and died alone!

I wrote the last line against my will--almost betraying my soul as I ripped the paper with my pen. I gaped at the page and realised the last words were wrong.

But I was broken and wanted to hurt him, and there was no other way to vent out my frustration.

Soon regret took over me and I fell into a pit of remorse. I wiped my tears off and began scratching mindlessly over it until you could hardly read it anymore, and threw the diary away in the corner.