Page 34 of Wicked Vile King
"Don't call me that," I say on a swallow, looking for a way out, but he's so tall, and this room is so small, like a closet. "I'm not your pet."
"Yes, you are, but your pride won't let you admit it yet. Let me show you what this place is like without me to protect you. You'll either come out stronger for it or you'll break, but I've got my money on stronger. That'll be fun."
"Fuck you."
He chuckles, and he's so close, his laughter feathers over my flesh.
"Tell me, pet," he says, leaning in as my back hits something solid, "are you afraid of the dark?"
A moment later, he reaches behind me, and a second after that, I am pushed into a cold nothingness. His face is the last thing I see before he closes the door and everything falls to black.
9
WILLOW
My breath is deafening in the dark tunnel, a rapid staccato of fast inhales through my nose and exhales through my mouth. I try to slow my breathing, just like the doctors taught me to do in the weeks following the incident, when my father couldn't even look at me and my exile made the world overwhelming in an instant.
I breathe in and out,pause, in and out, over and over again, just like those same doctors taught me when I teetered on the brink of a breakdown and struggled to regain control.
The breathing exercise works for a moment, or it seems to at least, before my eyes pop open and I blink out into the pitch black and remember where I am. Then my control begins to slip once more, punting my heart rate into overdrive.
I try to see the door in front of me, but it's so dark in here, too dark, I can't even see six inches in front of my face. Cool open air feathers the nape of my neck as I flatten my hands against the door and fumble in my search for a knob. I can't find anything on this side but smooth, weathered wood.
Oh fuck.
Oh no.
No. No. NO!
I can't be alone in here. I can't be alone in the dark!
Don't think about it, Willow!
Don't you dare fucking think about it!
I can hear my heartbeat knocking against the walls of this stone tomb. His words beat against my brain, too fast, like they've been fast-forwarded to match my skyrocketing pulse.
Are you afraid of the dark, pet?
Areyouafraidofthedark,pet?
Areyouafraid? . . . Afraid . . . Dark.
Of course, I'm afraid of the dark, and he knew it too. I don't know how he knew, but he did. Ever since that night, I've had to sleep with a nightlight.
That night. That . . . night.
Let me the fuck out!!!!!
I don't know if the scream is inside my skull or outside in the open air.
My hands hammer against the door, but it's still not loud enough to drown out the living pulse of this place, the one that beats in time to my own heart.
"Help!" I shout, the word echoing behind me. "Somebody please help!"
The words hit the door and careen back at me, carried by the stone walls and the shadows, becoming something else entirely, a cacophony of unanswered, copied pleas.
Still, there's no response on the other side, and moist, cool air at my back sends a shiver bolting up my spine. I blink once more, willing myself to be able to see something—anything—but it's hopeless. The light doesn't return. No matter how much I want it to. It didn't back then, and it doesn't now.
