of blood and lies ; dystopian

2

PRESENT

I'd thought about what I wanted to do to Karro if I ever saw him again. Every day, in that place, I'd imagined the ways I would torture him. I wanted it to be long and painful. I wanted to physically bring him to his breaking point, all while killing his soul word by word.

Some of my fantasies had become so vile I believed I'd gone mad.

I wanted him to suffer. Whatever I needed to do, he had to suffer.

But now that he was sitting across from me, I couldn't think.

I couldn't move.

Rage was an old friend. Through the lonely nights, it was Rage. Through everything, Rage was with me, comforting me. But, now, my old friend consumed me; it consumed every cell in my head and every muscle in my body. I couldn't move or breathe.

I wanted to see him convulsing, begging for his life. I wanted to see him covered in red. So much fucking red.

I reached for my head, rubbing at my temples. I didn't look away from him, despite the migraine racking through me. I didn't remember anything. I didn't remember how I'd gotten free of a timeless place, and into a hell where Karro still lived.

Even if I'd lost my memory, I would forever remember him.

It'd be impossible to forget Karro.

Karro sat as still as I did. Unbreathing and unmoving. It was just as The Blood had trained us. He'd learned the ways of The Blood from a young age, as I had. Karro and I were one of a kind; we were tools. We had been a tool.

I looked at the flimsy pillow atop my bed.

There was nothing else around that I could use as a weapon. There was no mirror to shatter in case I wished to slit his throat. The metal appeared to be intact and unmovable. The window did not have any visible screws.

If I were able to find a screw, I would pry it out and puncture small holes into his face until he died of blood loss.

Perhaps I would even stick one inside his cock.

"Naga," Karro warned, once my eyes locked with the pillow. His body tensed. He was much larger than me, yes, but I was angrier. An angry woman was a powerful woman. No muscle nor strength could stop an angry woman. And I was a very, very angry woman.

Karro looked to the pillow, and then back to my face. I watched him from the side of my eye as I reached for it.

An eternity worth of memories and feelings flooded through me by the sound of his voice. I flinched, reaching for the pillow. My hands were shaking. I wanted to rip the skin from his face.

I snatched the pillow into my hands, digging my nails into the flimsy cotton. I wanted it to be so much more painful and bloody. A pillow to the face was the work of a child. But, this had to do. This was The Blood giving me one final chance to release the pain he left me with. To heal the emptiness in my core that he had carved from me. To breathe and exist without thinking of him.

I ignored his warning and propelled myself from the bed.

I landed on the edge of his bed, planting my knees on either side of his own. I straddled him, pushing him hard into the bed. I pressed all of my weight into the pillow, atop his face, trying to suffocate him as painfully as possible.

I scowled, pushing harder into the pillow. It was too thin and I wasn't heavy enough. I wanted to scream. This wasn't going to work.

Karro laughed beneath the pillow, letting me pin him to the bed foolishly for a moment. I felt his stupid face through the thin cotton. I wanted to beat his skull in until I no longer thought of him.