Cry, Even Better If You Beg

Chapter 73: Canary Song

“Sit.” Matthias said to her in reply in a calm manner as he sat himself down on the table where food had been prepared for them. He gestured for her to take a seat at the remaining chair available, as the others had been conveniently taken away.

Leyla remained standing in front of him, shooting him a scathing glare. She eyed the various food arranged in front of her, while Matthias sat at the head of the long table, the table that brought forth painful memories for her.

“I don’t think we’re close enough to share meals.” she angrily said to him. Matthias only hummed as he unfolded the table napkin with a flick of his wrist.

“I thought you said you agreed to fulfill your role in our deal.”

“I am!” she protested, “I’m giving you everything you want from me!”

Matthias only sighed forlornly at her.

“Yes, that I can’t deny, but your skinny body makes it so painful to thrust into. I can hardly enjoy our time together.” he told her nonchalantly. Leyla’s breath hitched in response to his criticism, hot shame filled her as she listened to him.

Matthias looked at her in a challenging manner, and Leyla couldn’t help but wonder just how low does he see her? How can he just sit there, and spit those words at her!? He might as well just slap her in the face because that’s what it felt like to her, hearing those words.

Matthias picked up his wine-filled glass, cradling it between his fingers as he swirled the liquid around the clear glass. He always held himself in a graceful manner, which was a shame because his personality was equally repulsive.

“Do eat Leyla, you look starved to death.” he pointed out, but Leyla remained standing. Matthias put his goblet down, and leaned back in his seat. “Do you wish to die then?” Still, she refused to answer.

“Well then, do as you please.” Matthias shrugged, smiling brightly at her before clasping his hands together in a thinking pose, “Hmm, I wonder what I should put in your tombstone? Let’s see…” he unclasped his hands, drumming one set of fingers onto the polished tabletop in deep thought.

“Ah, I know! It should be something to commemorate our intimate moments together!” he declared, “Here lies Leyla Lewellin! The beloved mistress of Duke Herhardt!” he announced with a flourish, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye, “I quite like the thought of it, don’t you?”

Leyla could only feel appalled.

“I’ll have it carved into the most exquisite marble in existence, with big and clear letters, so that everyone can see you for what you really are…” he proceeded, “So don’t worry, live or die, you’ll always be with me.”

He sounded so relaxed, so amused by the thought of toying with her even beyond the grave. Leyla’s fists clenched so tightly, her knuckles turned white with rage towards the man, no beast, in front of her.

She tried to forget the first night she ever laid with him, tried to scrub it from her memory, but it just kept coming back, over and over and over again. There was no escaping him wherever she went. No matter how much he’d try to clean and redecorate the space, she’d always find her mind trapped forever in that moment.

The marks he’d left her with had faded and healed over the course of time, but the wound she felt in her spirit remained salted and open.

“I’m not going to die.” Leyla finally responded, making a point to drag the chair across the floor loudly, and sat primly across from him, “In fact, I’m planning to live well.” They now sat across from each other.

She won’t let him bully her as easily as before anymore. She won’t get scared, or flustered in front of him any longer. She won’t allow herself to be affected by him anymore.