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She grins as a bright pink shape slowly rises into my vision and my cheeks pale—my fucking dildo. The one that, miraculously, Poppy managed to sneak into St Anton’s when she taught me about self-indulgence.

I pull on the ropes with what little strength I currently have, but they don’t relent.

“You think I’ll let you get away with assaulting my fiancé like that?” She laughs. “I think we have to fuck the sin out of you, Jordan Westbrook. I won’t tell the clergy. They’ll take all the fun out of giving you what you deserve.”

“No,” I rasp before the silicone fills my mouth. It hits the back of my injured throat, making me gag, which brings up burning liquid that spills out of my mouth.

She holds the polaroid of Kain in front of me as she pulls the dildo out, then rams it back in with a grunt. “Fucking brute.” Roughly, she moves it in and out of my mouth as anger and a hint of embarrassment floods me. But despite everything I just learnt, I keep my focus on the picture of him as my mouth is assaulted and tears brim in my eyes.

I can’t do anything. I’m too tired. Too exhausted to move. Everything hurts.

“No matter who comes to whisk you away on a glittering steed, or who you think you can fuck. I will be the face you think about when he fucks you, while you lay there, taking it like a good little housewife.”

I can’t believe I let him fool me into enjoying what he did. For a second, I thought he may have been jealous.

The dildo slides in and out of my mouth as tears begin to spill and all noise around me fades out.

Kain and his annoyingly sweet dimples when he smiles. The cut of his V as he fucked my throat. The nerve endings in my clit pulse as his thrusts take over my mind.

I gag again and again as Lacey punches the back of my throat, that polaroid burns aching holes in my mind.

“This man right here?” She shoves the picture closer to my face at the same time as pushing the silicone deeper down my throat. “He’s mine. Stay away from him.” The picture disappears, replaced by a phone camera and a quick flash. Then, a bottle—one that looks similar to the one she was holding last night—gets poured over my face. “Repent, demon.” Thick, red liquid covers my face.

She pulls the dildo all the way out and I gasp for breath. She swings it into my cheek, and it connects with a wet slap. Dropping it to the floor—along with the picture—she walks out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving me tied up, furious, exhausted, and my soul bruised.

I went to the only safe place I knew before all of this fucked up shit and before I knew he would betray me Kain. And it made it more bearable.

Fucking idiot.

And what is wrong with Lacey? What the fuck is wrong with these people? What is wrong with me for allowing myself to think of him?

What’s more fucked up is that I knew this would eventually happen—I just wasn’t expecting it to be Lacey of all people.

After a few minutes of lying there, blankly staring at the ceiling, I begin shouting for help while a tear runs down my cheek. I doubt anyone will hear me, this part of the castle seems completely abandoned. My cries for help aren’t so loud either because my throat is ravaged and heavy.

I feel so stupid and helpless. I feel like the same girl who was dropped off at St Anton’s. The one that, years before, took her mother and the church's word as gospel along with the rest of the town. Who was terrified of her abuse and telling anyone. Who slept with the person she thought loved her back in the same way. Hell, that girl would be doing anything to repent for her sins if she was still under their influence. That girl didn’t know that no one would listen anyway.

None of this is normal. They need to be exposed for their lies and exploitation. They’re lying to everyone.

“Oh, my dear child.” A soft voice floats through my thoughts and helpless screaming.

An elderly cleaner rushes through the door, her crimson habit puffing out as she drops to her knees next to me and begins untying my wrists.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

No words come out as I watch her.

“You need some moisturiser on these wrists.” Her bright blue eyes flit over me in concern, eyebrows furrowing. I don’t believe for a second she’s kind. No one here has that ability. They’re all hungry sharks just searching for their next prey.

“I’m sorry they did this. This isn’t the Lord’s way. This is the Devil’s work,” she whispers. My wrists break free, dropping above my head. “There,” she says, stepping away.

I weakly push myself to sit up, every bone in my body screaming for rest. My wrist twists, sending me flying to my elbow, but no further as the woman catches me. Her lips lift into a kind smile while her eyebrows continue to sit in a concerned state. Something about the way she handles me so gently, not forcing help on me and not demanding answers, puts me at ease, even if only a little.

“Thank you,” I whisper, standing slowly.

She follows suit, rubbing her arm up and down my sticky one thanks to the substances I’m covered in. One of which smells like metal. Not that I can tell which is which.

“Do you need me to walk you back to your room, child?”