Abused and Bought

Sweet Lies

(This chapter holds strong language! Also, abuse and slurs! If you are not comfortable with this chapter, please wait until the next, where such things will be minimal. Thank you!)

Tunneled vision throbbed with every blink, soreness resting in her shoulders, nipped at the sockets of her arms. As she came to, she noticed the chill on her skin, the roughness against her knees, and the icy bite around her wrists and ankles. A disturbing difference from the warm blankets she last remembered. Goosebumps kissed her flesh as the blurry scenery came into focus.

Her eyes snapped wide.

Around her was damp, dark stone, rusted metal chains dangling from hooks, screwed into the ceiling. They clattered and chimed in the soft wind, glistening at her threateningly. On one wall was a hook drilled in the far corner. Tension turned her body rigid. Dangling from the hook was a whip, long and slim, a small shard of metal at the tip. It brushed its tip against the floor, glinting. Her neck creaked as she scanned the room, trying to take in the grim setting. Torturous gadgets decorated every wall, sending twisting shudders coiling through her skin. On one wall was a wooden door, barely seen in the darkness.

It creaked open.

"It seems the whore is awake."

Startled, Grace snapped her head toward the voice, the chillingly, familiar voice.

Francis sat on a cushioned chair, threaded shining crimson. Her painted nails, now black, drummed against her lap. The clothing on her body was not of any tight material. Instead, Franci's torso draped a black t-shirt, and black pants fitted comfortably on her hips.

"Honestly, I was hoping you were dead, but apparently, nothing, even the death of my enemy, works in my favor." The words escaped her as a sigh, shoulders slumping as if saddened. "On the bright side, I won't have to worry about having no entertainment."

The words escaping her lips sounded nearly muffled, sharp shards of betrayal clawing deep gashes in Grace's chest. She almost laughed at herself. How stupid, how stupid she was to have thought Francis, a friend. During their first meeting, Francis had made it clear that she had despised her, and now, she was here to fulfill the promise she had made.

Grace hadn't noticed that she was trembling until Francis laughed, lifting an elegant hand to cover her mouth. The laugh was beautiful, in stark contrast to the environment.

"You pathetic thing." She chuckled. "Without dear Hunter, you're nothing but a shivering coward." The sickening sweet smile twisted into an ugly sneer. "A disgusting weakling like you is like spit on his shoe. Dirt on a clean slate."

A shudder rushed through Grace's skin as Francis gripped the arm of her chair until a sharp crack emanated from the wood.

"It disgusts me to think that my beloved is being misled by a lowly human whore."

Grace's heart flinched at the slur. Heavy dread settled in her chest, threatening, taunting to crush her heart should she let it. To be called such things by someone she had considered close, someone like a sister.

"Oh, don't look at me like." Francis scoffed, disgust twisting her lips. "That look of a kicked puppy only looks good on pups who don't deserve to be kicked." A shudder trembled through Grace, her lip wobbling. Francis stood from the chair with near disturbing elegance, toxic words pooling from her lips. "And you, you poor little slut, deserve every kick I am about to give."

A loud snap cracked across her back, searing pain licking through the covered skin. Taken by surprise, she let out a startled cry of pain. Wide eyes stared dumbfounded at the dusty concrete, growing blurry with cluttered tears. Few dripped onto the ground.

A loud cackle threw back Francis's head. "So the mute queen does have a voice!" The cackle stopped short, still soft chuckles bouncing gleefully from her lips. "But as much as I want to hear your agony, I hate the idea of having to hear that disgusting voice."

Slender fingers rose and snapped sharply, a balled-up cloth shoving into Grace's mouth a second later. Even as she choked to spit out the gag, a second lash at her back sent fiery pain across her skin. The cloth muffled a strangled scream, lone tears dripping onto the floor.

Another lash whipped at her back, the fierce burn returning tenfold from the ebbing sting. A sob heaved through her chest. Lash after lash sent sobs to screams, screams to thrashing, and thrashing left blood trickling down her wrists. It dripped onto the floor with a sickening rhythm.

Francis sighed, huffing out annoyance. "Seriously, after only a few whips, and you've already damaged yourself."

Grace nearly snapped. The liar would have no idea how painful the lashes were. And it wasn't just the lashes against her skin; horrible memories crashed against her brain in terrifying currents with each whip that cracked against her back. Awful memories of dark rooms, unfair, unknown rules, rusted wire, and long, unjust punishments. Ignored pleas and laughed-at screams.

Heavy gasping heaves sent a sharp pain through her back. Her wrists grew a darker shade of red from thrashing against the heavy, harsh metal. The tip of her tongue crawled with pleads and begs, bargains, and promises that made her sick.

But she couldn't say them, thank god for the cloth shoved past her lips. If she spoke, it would only be worse. The stranger holding the whip would lash her harder, sharper. Maybe Francis would join in, beating her bloody if she spoke a syllable. If she spoke, Francis would punish her more, worse than she already is.

Thank god for the cloth.

"You know," Francis mused. "I nearly went into a furious frenzy that day, the day the whole vampire party found out you were his beloved." She sighed in disappointment. "I was hoping, even praying, that when I shoved you in his path, he would rip you to shreds just like he did with those others. I even made sure to add a little extra pollen into the tonic!"

The ringing in Grace's ears was so vibrant, she nearly didn't hear the confession, but it chipped yet another crack in her shattered heart.

Francis continued. "I still can't believe that it had taken me spiking your tea to get you out of my way. I could have had something horrible happen to you and your friends in the mall. It would have been the perfect coverup! Or that time when I took you to the Queen's crown. It's absolutely forbidden to even look at the crown before it's placed upon one's head, even more so to touch it. I was hoping when I left you behind with the princes that they would throw you into the dungeons and whip you until you died." She scoffed out a laugh. "But of course not! You were let off the hook with a little slap on the wrist." She stepped close, a sharp jolt snapping through Grace's skin. Bending at the knees, Francis snarled. "Just what about you makes you so special?"

Mustering up the little sliver of pride she had left, Grace narrowed her eyes into a glare, heaving past the gag as if she could release the pain through her breath. Even as a sweet smile curved Francis's lips, she whipped her hand against Grace's cheek, vibrant, crimson blood pooling from thin gashes.

"It seems that a couple of years without whippings has made you forget just where your place is." She hummed, standing straight. A wicked grin took over the mockingly sweet smile. "We'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

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HELLO MY LOVELY READERS! I AM SO SORRY ABOUT HOW LONG THIS CHAPTER TOOK TO COME OUT, THIS WAS A BRAND NEW SCENE I HAD NEVER WRITTEN BEFORE, SO IT TOOK A WHILE, HOWEVER, I AM SO HAPPY THAT YOU ALL DECIDED TO STICK AROUND, AND IF YOU ARE NEW, WELCOME!! I HOPE YOU STICK AROUND FOR A LONG TIME!

LOVE YOU ALL AND HAVE A GREAT DAY!