Page 1 of Delirium
PROLOGUE
Storm
14 Years Old
I’d’been sitting in this garden for at least three hours, staring at the red façade of my personal hell. This mansion in front of me looked like the dream of every family out there, but the horrors inside... I wouldn’t wish those on anybody.
They were ripping our souls apart, our bodies, and I just wanted it to stop. I stopped begging them years ago, but it seemed that me being quiet didn’t sit well. They first destroyed my innocence with their hands, then with the whips and chains, and lastly with poisonous words.
I wasn’t the only one.
There were kids like me inside. Kids sold by their families. Kids who weren’t kids anymore.
They used our bodies as if we weren’t human beings. As if we were nothing.
Get on your knees.
Open your mouth.
Do you like this, boy?
Does it hurt? Good. I’ll make it hurt more.
Their words were embedded deep in my mind, etched into my soul.
You’re a piece of shit. No wonder your parents didn’t want you.
My parents. My sick and depraved parents. They sold me to these snakes. They gave me away as if I wasn’t their flesh and blood.
Neither one of them was there when Nikolai Aster took me away. I thought he was a good man, and he was—at least in the beginning. Little did I know that the whole time I’d been staying with him and his family, I was being groomed for this.
He taught me how to speak properly, how to read and count, and then he threw me to the wolves. I had no idea how much longer I would be able to be here.
It’d been almost seven years since he brought me here and told me to behave. The mask he’d been wearing around me slipped when we crossed the threshold of this mansion. The kind and patient man was gone, replaced with a monster that wanted nothing more than to shatter me.
I was the oldest one here. The other day, they brought a seven-year-old girl. I could hear her screams even on the fourth floor. She would learn soon enough that no matter how much you screamed, how much you begged and cried, they would never stop.
These people, these sick bastards, they didn’t care about our pain. The only thing important to them was their sick satisfaction and the desire to molest children.
I’ve had them all—men, women, kind and vicious—they all wanted one thing.
My body.
Last night was one of the hardest ones. The man who loved to be called Master whipped me so badly, I couldn’t even touch my back today. I was obedient, I listened, but he didn’t want my obedience.
He wanted my pain. He never touched me like the others did, but he watched me touch myself. I felt sick every single time my dick would stand up and I couldn’t stop it.
My body started changing three years ago, and my torture changed from me touching them to them touching me. They loved to see the torment in my eyes.
But this sadist from last night, I finally found out who he was. He was the same monster that brought me here. The same monster that took me away and stole everything from me.
Nikolai Aster.
“Why are you sad?” A soft voice jerked me back from my thoughts, and my eyes landed on a little blonde girl. Fuck, she was so tiny. When did they start bringing the younger ones?
But she didn’t seem scared. No, she seemed curious, maybe even concerned. Her blonde brows furrowed as she looked at me. The brightest blue eyes I had ever seen stared at me, waiting for an answer.
No, this kid wasn’t one of the slaves. She wasn’t one of us.
