Eternal, p.23
Eternal, page 23
“Then, it is your responsibility to hire people to fill those positions. It’ll be the only way you’ll make any money, Serena. Freya has Soren to lean on for financial support, but Abe doesn’t seem to know what he wants to do with his life.”
Serena’s mouth snaps shut and is stunned into silence.
“There’s also the matter of important information.” Larry opens the envelope he pulled out, and shows us a hard drive. “This will be given to Freya and Soren at the time of Frank’s death. This will explain everything. No one else is to see it. No one else is to be told what this hard drive contains. Is that understood?”
“Not even Serena?”
“Not even Serena. No one except for you and Soren.” My father chimes in.
I sit back in my chair and nod, looking down at my hands.
What the fuck is on that hard drive? Whatever it is, he’s intentionally making Soren and I the bearers of that burden, wanting to protect Serena in the process.
“What’s on there that’s so bad I can’t even see it?” Serena’s lips are pressed together.
“It’s none of your business. For yours and your sister’s sake, don’t force her to tell you either.” My father scolds.
“Does it involve Luca?” I ask.
My father’s eyes shift to Larry then to me. “Yes.”
I sit up, and cross my arms over my chest. “What does Luca have over you?”
My father’s face twists. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Serena mimics my actions, “You know, Freya, Luca does seem to have our father by the balls.”
“You watch your mouth, young lady,” My father snaps.
“Ha! You have no idea, Serena. In fact, why didn’t you do anything about Luca forcing Soren and I to have a child?” I deadpanned.
Serena’s eyes widened. “That motherfucker said what?”
“I just didn’t see the need to.” My father pretends to pick off an invisible piece of lint from his dress pants.
I huff. “You didn’t see the need to? I’m your daughter. You do understand that it’s your job as my father to stand up for me on occasion?”
“Freya, what’s the harm in all this anyway? You’ve always wanted a family, this isn’t any different.” He responds, stoic as ever. His face reddens with each question hurled at him.
“This is a lot different. How can you not see that?” I screech.
His face turns into a tomato as he stands abruptly, towering over my figure. “Enough, Goddamn it! I didn’t do anything because this was an arrangement Luca made. I was finding out about this at the same time you were, Freya! I chose not to do anything because you’ve always wanted a family. Not like it would really change anything anyway! I was certain you wouldn’t have an issue with it!”
“How could I not have an issue with this? I wanted children organically, father. I wanted children when it was right for Soren and I. Not when Luca wants us to have kids. We’ve already been forced into enough as it is. I didn’t need this on top of it.”
My father sits back down. “Well, Freya, I don’t know what to tell you. If that’s what Luca wants, then that’s what he will get. You can fight this all you want, but just like every other woman in our world, you’ll have to fucking deal with it.”
My eyes narrow. “What does Luca have over you?”
“We’re done here.” My father abruptly stands from his chair and leaves without another word.
Serena and I stare at each other.
"Why would he call us here, only to have it be so brief? Plus, why is he going over this information all of a sudden?" Serena questions.
"I don't know," I whisper, staring at the door they just left out of.
He did it with purpose, that much I do know. But it certainly felt like he is anticipating his demise any day now.
Chapter thirty-two
Freya
It’s been a week since my meeting with my father, and one week since I exposed the truth of Soren’s obsession. With everything else that had been going on, I forgot that there was still one simple question I need to answer.
Where is he disappearing every night?
I sit in my library with the lights off, waiting for him to appear. If he exited this door once, he’s bound to do it again. I hear a creak and the bookshelf reopens. Soren steps through the doorway and freezes spotting my silhouette in the armchair beside the fireplace. He stands taller and holds the bookcase open.
“What is down there, Soren?” I question, holding my ground as I demand an answer from him.
“It’s not what is down there, but who is down there,” Soren replies casually.
My blood runs cold as his sentence washes over me. “Who is down there, Soren?”
He exhales deeply. “Freya, you will never come back the same. Just drop it.”
I stand, rushing at him. “No. You do not get to do this to me. Who. Is. Down. There?”
We stand off with each other, waiting for one of us to budge. “Fine. I’ll show you,” Soren grunts, turning back and leading me down the staircase.
As we start to descend, I hesitate momentarily.
“Are you sure?” Soren asks again.
I stare at him. “Just show me who the fuck is down here.” I huff and continue walking.
He moves out of the way, allowing me to walk down the hall first.
“It’s the door at the end of the hallway.” I take larger steps, my fingers itching to reach the door knob. And when they do, Soren’s voice echoes again, “Just remember. I’ll never hurt you.” Then the door swings open to a gruesome, bloody scene.
But my eyes are drawn to the figure slumped over in the chair.
“Already back for more?” The bloodied, beaten figure says. He’s missing fingernails, teeth scattered across the floor, and deep cuts run along his skin. My hands fly up to my mouth as I gasp, taking a step back. I cannot move as Soren stands behind me, pushing me further into the room so he can shut and lock the door.
“I brought a guest this time,” Soren answers, almost amused with the sight in front of him.
“Ah, you brought back your bitch boy?”
“No. Someone else.”
The figure lifts its head, and they take a moment to look at me. But I’m immediately slammed with horrific memories. It’s been a year since I had seen those eyes. A year since those hands have hurt me. The whites of his eyes are blood red like blood vessels have been broken, similar to how mine looked after he hit me in the temple, his teeth missing as he grins like the cat who ate the canary, just like how he smiled at me as I was being raped by his coworkers. His cheeks were battered with bruises, just like how I looked when he threw me down the stairs when I told him I was leaving him. The first time. His neck resembles something like he’s been strangled a few times, just like how he made me look when he fucked me with such violence; it would make Ted Bundy proud.
Tristan. In the flesh.
Tears start to well up in my eyes, but I turn to look at Soren, who is devoid of all emotions. He’s never looked like this before. Soren’s eyes meet mine, and they shift to seek approval. From me.
“I found him,” He says.
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I feel his gaze on me. Soren sees my visible discomfort and turns his attention back to Tristan.
“Stop looking at her, fucker. She’s disgusted by the sight of you,” Soren snarls, standing behind him, a hand on the back of his head, pushing it back down.
“She is just taking everything in. I think she misses the feeling of my fingers on her, my cock buried deep inside her, my tongue running along her dripping cunt—” A blow lands on Tristan’s temple, and Tristan just chuckles. His head lifts a little, and he spits blood out toward me.
“You always loved it when I spit on you, didn’t you, Freya?” Tristan’s voice pierces my ears, and something deep inside me snaps.
Rage, fear, and deeply rooted hatred flow from me. All the years of torment he brought upon me are now being channeled toward Tristan, and I feel enough anger to hurt him. It pleases me to see the blood splattered across the floor and his missing body parts, but suddenly it’s not enough.
“Soren?” I turn my attention back to him as he studies me. Gauging if this is too much or enough.
“Yes, my darling?” His eyes flicker to me, and a glint of fear and excitement is mixed in them.
“My darling? Fucking disgusting. Whore is a better name.” Tristan spits out.
Soren opens his mouth to berate him, but I beat him to it.
“I want his index finger,” I say, looking at Soren, cocking my head to the side slightly.
Soren freezes, completely caught off guard by my change. Then smiles his beautiful, dazzling grin.
“As you wish,” He says, quoting a favorite movie of mine.
He moves across the room, gathering a few things before returning to him.
“Pulled off or cut off?” Soren asks, his perfectly fucked up side shining like a diamond.
“Your choice,” I responded, my hands clasped behind my back, mainly to hide my shaking hands.
I can’t tell what I’m feeling now, but I am going with it. Perhaps it’s better to not feel any emotions than to feel something at this moment.
“Did you hear that? I get to choose if I pull your finger off or cut it off.” He hums for a moment deciding. Tristan’s eyes meet his, daring him. “I think I’ll just take your whole hand.”
Before Tristan can open his mouth to spout out some shit, Soren’s hand comes down with a meat cleaver. And Tristan’s screams ring through the air.
“Oh, bummer. I couldn’t get it all in one go. Guess I’ll just have to try again,” Soren says, sarcastically.
“No--no--no, wait, please--” The knife comes down again, severing it completely.
Tristan’s screams echo, bouncing off the walls of my skull. Soren picks the hand up, flinging it around like a limp noodle. A sinister smile etched on his face.
“Would you look at that? That’s your hand.” He waves Tristan’s severed hand directly in his face.
“Just kill me, you crazy motherfucker. That dumb slut isn’t worth this. She was worthless, to begin with anyway,” Tristan cries out, his head falling back completely.
I stay silent, watching Soren do what he does best.
“No, no, you have it wrong. She is worth more than life itself. The pain and horrors she’s had to endure have made her strong. And there isn’t enough blood I could spill from you to make up for everything you’ve done to her.”
“I didn’t do anything she didn’t want. She begged for everything I gave her. Sometimes she just had to be taught a lesson because she just didn’t fucking listen worth shit,” Tristan chokes out.
I shake my head but don’t allow the nightmares to resurface. Tristan’s eyes connect with mine and fear no longer runs along my spine because I know Soren will protect me with his life if anything happens.
“See, Tristan. This is what I meant. You fucking raped her, didn’t you?”
Tristan’s eyes connect with mine again, but Soren realizes it this time. A blow lands on the side of his face, causing blood to spray out, hitting my face. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. It doesn’t hurt that he’s being punished. It feels good to see him suffering. And I kinda want a turn at it. God, what the fuck is wrong with me?
“I didn’t say you could fucking look at her. I should gouge your eyes out for that.” The tip of Soren’s knife traced Tristan’s eyes. “But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it, Freya?”
My eyes flicker to him, and he has a look in his eyes I can’t identify. A mixture of desire and hatred dances in them.
And before I can process the words, I answer. “Yes. It’s too easy.”
Soren smirks. “Tristan, I want you to admit you raped her and beat her senselessly because you are the one who is a failure.”
Tristan pants and I can tell he’s about to pass out from the blood loss.
“Soren, do you have anything to keep him awake? He’s going to pass out.”
Soren turns back to the cart and returns with a needle, sticking him in the neck with it before breaking it off in him. He takes a step back and admires his handiwork, waiting for the medicine to kick in. Approaching me, Soren pulls me into his arms. The darkness dancing in his eyes, now softening as he holds me close to him.
“Are you okay?” He asks, stroking my hair, smearing blood into it.
I nod. “I’m okay.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and holds me closer to him. “I want a turn still too, you know,” I murmured into his chest.
“Frey--”
“No. I need this, Soren. I need to let it out.” I pull away from him.
Dismay is spread across his face, but it slowly becomes a smile. “Together,” He whispers, pressing his forehead to mine.
And for a moment, I forget Tristan is there with us until he lets out a groan. Soren moves to him, wrapping his stump of an arm up to help the blood loss. To keep him alive for just a little longer.
I pick up a pair of channel locks and clamp down on his index finger.
“I want to play a game, Tristan,” I whisper into his ear.
He’s delirious from the blood loss and the medication keeping him alive. “What’s the game?”
“It’s called Mercy. Remember this game as a kid?” He doesn’t respond. “I’ll bend your finger really far back until you scream mercy. And when you do. Well, let’s see when we get there.”
I suck in a breath, standing this close, and the taste of blood that lingers in the air hits my tongue. It’s vile. I bend his finger up, his finger bending to the point where it takes more force to push it back.
“Mercy! Mercy!” Tristan screams out.
I pause for a moment. “That’s where it is for you? Okay. How about here?”
I push further down, and he screams as his finger turns to a 30-degree angle. The wrong way.
“You psychotic cunt! Mercy! Stop!!” Tristan is squirming. Hard.
I grin and look at Soren as he leans against one of the many toolboxes lining a wall. “Psychotic cunt. That’s new.”
“Do you want me to cut his tongue out, darling?” He asks, holding up a scalpel.
I flash him a smile. “No, I want to play a little longer.”
“As you wish, baby.”
I turn my attention back to Tristan’s form. He’s crying now.
I get in his face and mock him, fake crying. “Awe. Does that hurt? Did you want me to stop? I’ll stop, but you need to do one thing.”
“You’re fucking crazy.” He spits in my face.
Anger rolls through me like a tsunami, and I’m about to wipe him out. In retaliation, I bend his finger all the way back, bone popping out of place and breaking through his skin.
The scream he lets out this time brings a smile to my face. I repeat the process for the next finger.
“I want you to admit you hurt me.”
Tristan snorts, “I never did anything you didn’t want.”
“You hurt me. You raped me. You… broke me.” I start to tear up as every memory resurfaces at once, “But no more. You can’t have a hold on my life like that anymore. I’m not a victim anymore. I refuse. No. I’m a survivor. I survived your sadistic torture. But you will not survive mine.”
With that, I pull up on the tool’s handle, bending his finger backward. Each snap of his fingers sends a tingle running down my spine, and I relish the feeling it brings me. The strangled screams that erupt from deep within his throat give me pure joy. I throw my head back as he yells more insults and smiles. My soul and mind are calm and quiet for once. Soren watches me work my magic with a rare, genuine smile playing on his face.
“It’s so mesmerizing to watch your methods, Freya,” He murmurs, approaching me, and smearing the blood that paints my face further into my skin.
The metallic taste stains my tastebuds, and I desire more. I want him to feel the pain he inflicted on me for all those years, and even then… There isn’t enough time in the world to torture this man to make up for how mentally fucked-up he left me. But this gift Soren has given me is better than anything I could have ever given him. And it’ll take years of gifts and many blow jobs to compensate for this. But for now, I’ll continue recreating the infamous ‘Misery’ scene on his miserable ass.
“Want to recreate the famous scene from the first movie we watched together?” I ask sweetly.
He pauses for a moment, trying to recall what it was, but he has a lightbulb moment. A smile erupts on his face as he walks away from me, gathering the things he needs.
Soren approaches me again with an end table and a smaller toolbox. Setting the table down, he straps his legs down, resting the box between his legs, right above his ankles. Tristan’s eyes widened, recognizing what was about to happen, especially when he was being approached with a sledgehammer. Soren drags it on the ground for a touch of theatrics but swings it onto his shoulder.
“My darling, will you give me the honors of one ankle? ‘Misery’ was always my favorite book.” Soren pleads a manic smile dances on his face, and I can’t help but fall further in love with him.
“By all means.” I gesture with a hand, arms crossing over my chest, and Tristan’s eyes trail to my chest. Even when he knows I will be his demise, he can’t help but ogle what he lost. “Make sure it hurts.” My eyes stay trained on Tristan, but I see Soren make a couple of fake practice swings to ensure his angle is correct.
“What are you talking about, darling? It’ll feel like butterfly KISSES!” On the final word, he lands his blow, the sound of bone splintering, and Tristan’s screeches send a vibration of pleasure over my body again.
I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Maybe I’m in my element? Regardless, I want to embrace this new me. She’s strong. A survivor. And a fucking badass. Soren doesn’t seem to mind, either.
“My turn!” I smile, skipping over to him.
Unlike Soren, I don’t give Tristan the mercy of theatrics and opt to just take a blow to his ankle as soon as my fingers connect with the handle. Soren made it look easy to achieve the 90-degree angle of his leg. I didn’t get that; it’s broken but not splintered. Pouting, I look at Soren.
