Falling for Deceit || WATTYS 2017

56 - PART I

A/N: SORRY

This chapter has been LONG overdue, but I mean... it's the first part of the finale. The finale needs to be EPIC. And I've just finished my exams, celebrated my 17th birthday, and embarked on an epic journey towards the summer holidays xD

I hope that the wait will have been worth it with this chapter, however. Let me in on your thoughts ;)

Much love <3

-xoxo, Sophia

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Tony's POV

The slap slammed the side of my face to the stone wall and I let it stay there, panting heavily, my hair slickened with sweat and matted to my hot forehead and cheeks. "I didn't say that you could faint on me, sister," Lorenzo tsked provocatively, coming around my mounted body against the wall to stand in front of me so that I was staring right into that cruel face through half-closed eyes, heavy with exhaustion. The familiar pounding in my head drowned out most of his words as he spoke with that dark smile of his, and I didn't struggle as my eyes slowly began sliding shut again-

"Bitch," he hissed, and the slap came again, sending a sharp sting reverberating from my cheek all the way to my skull as my head whipped the other way and cracked against the stone. "I'll teach you some manners, falling asleep when I'm in the middle of a damn sentence."

I attempted to swallow but found that I had no moisture left in my throat to do so. They allowed me two, maximum three gulps a day to keep me alive, and I lived for those few, precious seconds every time. Now my lips were parched and cracked, and as I stuck out the tip of my tongue to wet them, that too was too dry to do any good. So when I spoke, every coarse syllable scraped along my esophagus and came out in uneven croaks that gritted in my own ears. "Maybe if-" A violent cough shook my entire body as Lorenzo whipped his head in front of mine, rage swimming in his eyes and his nostrils flaring like a bull's. "If you weren't so boring, I'd find some energy to stay awake." I didn't even have it in me to feel fear as he pulled forth a sharp knife from his back pocket. Not even as he twirled the blade in front of my exhausted eyes so that the dim light from the single lightbulb in the cracked ceiling caught onto the sleek metal. That metal would soon be engulfed by my flesh, I was sure of it. But my fate would be the same, no matter what I said. So I might as well go down with a shred of dignity. Lord knew that the waste beneath me had stripped me of any self-respect a long time ago, physically at least. They hadn't allowed me down from my strewn position against the wall since I came here, and I'd lost count of the hours, the days, even the seconds ticking by. I could have been down here for a year for all I knew. And what a hellish time it'd been.

I closed my eyes as he stepped forth with purpose, knowing what was to come as much by heart as I recognized my own breathing. I'd long since abandoned giving out any sort of prayers. No one was coming to get me, and the deep welts on my wrists and ankles proved many hours of futile struggling against the sharp leather restraints. The cold humidity of the cave brought the same sharpness with it as it tore through my skin, and my thin nightgown was air against the elements down here. My strength had evaporated, my limbs were numb, and my head felt like a heavy brick strung to the top of my neck by a string that would snap at any moment. So I welcomed the darkness as my lids came down over my inanimate eyes. All I could do to pass the time as I waited for the inevitable agonizing pierce of the blade was to draw up a blurry picture of those features that I would never forget, no matter how much the hate I had for him burned my heart and all of my being, no matter what he had done, no matter what I endured. Marco's amber eyes were crystal clear, so vivid that I could see him standing in front of me, replacing Lorenzo's presence, even with my eyes closed. I lined up insult after insult that I would brand him with should I ever see him again, although the unlikeness of that was evident, and the enraged, hateful speech which I had practiced in my head over and over again was the only thing keeping me sane. I think that he was the one pulling me through this, keeping my mind off the brink of insanity. The hate that burned in me for him spurred me on. There was a fine line between love and hate. However, the scale had tipped over to the latter a long time ago. I could have laughed at the irony of loving a torturer, being betrayed by the said torturer, only to be tortured myself. If only my vocal cords were strong enough. And every vibration of my body brought agonizing cramps to my stomach anyway, so I tried keeping the reactions to a minimum.