Page 96 of Chained

I keep hunting for redemption, but I don't deserve it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.

The words repeat, but it'll never be enough.

I scramble up from the floor, every image of my life with Jarrod flashing before me. How could I put my hands on him? I've spent my entire life in these walls protecting him to only become the thing he's terrified of.

"I gotta get out of here," I say slowly, backing away from him. He takes a step closer.

Please. Please, don't come any closer. I can't take it.

"I'm okay…" His voice is so soft it's almost worse than any punishment. I match every step, keeping the distance. "Jax, I'm okay."

I don't reply, there are no words. No fucking apologies that'll ever take away what I did. I sprint out of the training room, letting the door slam closed behind me. He doesn't chase me, and for once, I'm fucking thankful.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Amora

My fingers grip the edge of the sink as I take a deep breath and slowly raise my eyes to the mirror.

"You can do this," I murmur. "You can, you can do it."

I feel stupid, searching for fingerprints that I know won't be there. Jax said it takes time, but I don't have time. He'll be back tonight, and whilst I have these short hours of respite, I want the tiny spiders that are his fingers to stop crawling across my breasts. I want the throb inside my legs where he's almost tore me to pieces to ease.

This is useless; just as I thought it would be. He's still there, he always will be. I rub at my wrists as I walk away, fingers tracing over the raw skin that's still split in places. The dark ring wraps around my wrist as the bruises deepen. He kept me chained to a bed the entire time I was taken, a full week of having my body broken and used. I'd tried to scream, to beg, to plead, but it only spurred him on more. He said he loved being inside me, whispering deep into the night how my body was almost perfect. He'd complain when I no longer created a wetness for him, when my body finally decided to be on my side and stop giving in to his touch, but that wasn't a victory, either. Not for me, at least. He'd push himself inside me dry, causing me to scream so loud until my throat gave in. He'd laugh every single time.

When exhaustion would take over, I'd black out, but even that didn't stop him. I'd wake to find him between my legs, his tongue devouring me whole. My body slipped back into betrayal as every muscle trembled around his fingers as he forced another orgasm, and then another. His smile reached his eyes as he talked me through each one, even when I'd beg him to stop. When I'd beg my body to stop, but neither of them listened. So I was forced to lie there and accept it. The shame, the guilt, the feeling of needing to tear myself out of my own skin.

I didn't think I'd survive it. But I did. I survived, and somehow, so did my mind. I don't know if it's conditioning, if maybe my body has become so used to being used for his pleasure that now my mind has finally kicked into action, making it easier to withstand the pain. It sent me back into the past, to the very moments I needed to escape. I'd see them; my mum and Rosa. I'd hear their voices, their laughter, and in those moments, I felt something that wasn't numb.

He said he'd come back after he threw me back inside the room that haunted me more than anywhere else in the manor. It wasn't just because of the abuse I'd suffered in here or the way every inch of this bathroom made me feel like he was watching. It was because this wasn't just my cage—it had been his mother's too. He hadn't spoken about her since that night. Not properly, at least. He uses her now as a weapon against me. In those days when he'd forced me to straddle him so he could watch my shame. When I'd sit sobbing on his lap as he filled me with his liquid. His hand would crack against my jaw and he'd remind me that she never cried, that she took it like a true woman.

Staring into the mirror, I examine every inch of my skin. I know Jax's little thing was right, I can't see his fingerprints or the chains he'd bound me with. I know he isn't there, but it's not enough. Because he's sunk in too deep; he's in every pore, every vein, every beat of my heart. My fingers slowly drift to the soap dish, itching for a release, itching for anything to stop the way my miserable face judges me in the mirror.

Clutching it in my hand, pulling my arm back just enough to create some force, I throw it. The image staring back at me splinters into a thousand pieces. Shards fall to the floor and into the sink, but I don't move. I still feel him, but for one, lousy second, I don't feel judged.

A single shard catches my eyes, and I can't stop myself from picking it up, twisting it in my fingers. The jagged edges sharp, I grip it in my hand, feeling the way it cuts into my palm. Blood trickles onto the floor.

What if I kill him? What if the next time he tries to force himself on me, I stab him with this? Could I? Would I be fast enough or even know where to slice? A cold chill runs through my body, but my heart beats a little faster at the thought.

I don't know if I can keep surviving this anymore. I don't know if his promise to find Rosa is even real or if it's some sick way to keep me pathetic and compliant.

I want to, though. I want to be the reason he doesn't exist. To take his life like he's taken my soul.

Maybe I could do it. Maybe one day when I'm stronger or when he's finally broken my mind.

Moving back into the bedroom, I head for the music box beside my bed and open the lid, tucking the shard of glass inside.

I don't know if I'll use it or if I'll ever be strong enough, but knowing it's there gives me a kind of comfort that I didn't have before. Because it's a choice, it's my choice, and he can't take it from me⁠—

CRASH.

The metal table and chairs on the balcony are knocked over onto the balcony floor. A bang on the glass comes next in three. Tap. Tap. Tap.

I don't move, I don't know whether to run for the guard or to hide under the bed. Vincent's promise that the De Luca men will come for me runs through my soul, somehow more terrifying than any threat Vincent has given me. At least with him I know what to expect.

"Amora." Jax's rough voice calls through the air, settling a tightness in my chest that was slowly suffocating me. I move quickly, dragging back the curtain and seeing him through the glass. He's holding himself up, his body shaking. He doesn't look right.