Olethros

thirty nine - freyja

I thought perhaps the days before had been continuous nightmares plaguing me. Maybe I'd spent too much time alone, maybe my fear of returning to my father fed into my mind.

I knew, at the soreness between my thighs, it had all been too real.

I let out a whimper into my pillow, stomach threatening to purge at the memory of what my father had done to me yesterday. How my poor brother was forced to watch, the vomit dripping down his chin. I remembered Cassian using every ounce of his strength to hold Azriel back and the feral look in the latter's eyes.

My father had never been such a cruel male. He'd laid his hands on me only when I pushed him past his breaking point, but it had only ever been a slap or two. Never had he done something like this. I couldn't fathom how my mother had been able to stay in the same room as him. Had he ever done something like this to her?

I thought back to the scent of whiskey and herbs. Maybe he had been pushed to the point of drowning himself in intoxication so he didn't have to think so clearly about my wrongdoings. Could that be his excuse? Was he so cruel because of intoxication?

My chest ached, my legs burned, my head throbbed. I let out a breath, sucking it back in sharply as I sat up. Even though the stitches were surely already working, it still burned. I wouldn't be shocked if my skin had already pieced itself together and nothing more than two fingers would fit.

The thought of that had bile creeping up my throat again. I didn't know if it was the memory of what my father had done or the realization that any sexual intimacy after this would hurt badly. Would I ever feel pleasure again?

A sob forced its way through me as I slid to the edge of the bed. There'd once been hope blooming in my soul that one day, I would be free of this. Maybe I would've hidden away until my father decided I was not worth searching for. Maybe I would've had Azriel take me to another court with a final goodbye. I could've been anything or anyone. Now I was the promised bride to the youngest son of the Spring Court, sewn up and ready to be ruined once more.

I felt the tears on my cheeks before I knew I was crying. I furiously wiped at my cheeks, anger heating my skin. Crying made me feel useless. It would change nothing, I'd still be my own father's captive after I finished weeping. My sex would still be mutilated and I'd still be sold to another court. Nothing could change this situation and I believed that's why there was a churning emptiness in my stomach. I knew I was hopeless.

I felt a scratching against my mind, one that had me flinching. I feared my father would try to tear down my mental barriers, but this did not feel like the sickening claws of his. It felt softer, more gentle. A tapping rather than a tear. Rhysand. I shakily inhaled as I let him in.

"Freyja, are you alright?"

Another sob left me as I curled my knees to my chest.

"No."

I wondered if he was sat outside my door. If he'd remained in the palace after what had happened last night.

"I'm so sorry. I wish I could stop this."

"As do I."

Hearing his voice in my mind tore my chest in half. Would this be all I had left of him before being sent away? Besides Mor and my mother, my brother was the only person who'd been with me in life. He stood by my side with each fault and mistake. Would he continue to live without me here?

"Come to your window near your vanity."

My head moved to the doorway to my bathing chamber, heart pumping loudly in my ears. My knees trembled as I slid from the bed and slowly walked to where my brother instructed. I winced at the tenderness between my thighs, almost wondering if I had already healed and that the pain was a phantom of the memories from yesterday.