MARIAN.
"Who the fuck are you?" A different voice asked, it was so icy that it sent cold chills snaking down my spine, and I could hear my heart thumping like a drumbeat at a festival.
The air had snapped tight, becoming denser than I'd ever felt it before. I tried to breathe, but I couldn't, and even if I wanted to answer their question, I wouldn't have been able to respond because just like my body, my vocal cords had suddenly forgotten how to work.
I heard a snarl, and I didn't even need to look to know that I was in trouble, my body trembled, and tears that I was desperate not to let loose burned the back of my eyes.
"Do you not know how to speak?!" The icy voice barked, and along with the loudness of that voice was a sharpness of pain that pulsed through me as my stomach pressed harder into the marble floor.
My mouth opened against my will, a loud painful cry erupted from my chest as I spat on the ground, my body tingling with sharp pain.
One of their heels dug into my back as if trying to completely rid me of my spinal cord, and I felt my heart lurch to my throat.
"Zayden, you're going to kill her that way," a different voice said, and I knew that being grateful wasn't for the likes of me. "The likes of her don't deserve an easy way out." The voice added, and I was right.
With my face still pressed into the ground, I heard the snapping of fingers, and before I knew what was going on, I was being yanked up on both sides by the guards.
Finally, I was able to look at them, and the sight of them stole my breath away, literally. My breath hitched, catching in my throat. All six pairs of eyes were completely dead, void of anything as flimsy as emotion or life.
Their shoulders were wide, and I could really see the kind of dark air that they exuded—everything about them, the way their jaws were set, the way they breathed as if they wouldn't if they could, was ruthless.
I knew there and then that I'd met my doom, and I'd be lucky if I was able to see the setting of the sun tomorrow.
"Such an eyesore." The one with the coldest voice I've had so far spat, his eyes were equally icy, a deep shade of ocean blue that predicted chaos each time I stared into them. "Squalor."
"That's what bumped into you?" Another voice chimed in, this one was louder, his eyes were crimson, burning with the kind of fire that I never even saw in the eyes of my father's warriors.
"Do they not keep their slaves on a leash here? They just let them run around like a bunch of homeless dogs?" The third person spoke, his eyes were amber, and they carried the same fire, hatred and coldness as the first two.
My heart was thudding really loudly now as the grip of the guards holding me tightened. The right thing to do right now would be to apologize for bumping into them, apologize for existing, but I knew better.
Just as apologies never worked for my mother, I was sure that it wouldn't work for these three death incarnates standing in front of me.
I watched as the one in the middle, the icy blue eyed one, took a step closer to me, but not so close that my breath would mix with his, he acted like I was some sort of plague, and I didn't blame him.
"Do you not have anything to say for yourself?" He wasn't raising his voice, and yet I couldn't only hear him loud and clear, I could feel each word burning themselves into my skin.
"I—I'm sorry." I spat. Why did I say that? Why am I apologizing?
He shook his head lightly, and clicked his tongue, and I felt something hot and sharp grip my stomach like a vice, a lump immediately rolling its way up to my throat. "You don't get it, do you, dog."
They're going to kill me, aren't they? They'll kill me just because I bumped into them.
"An apology is not enough to make up for your sin." The words felt as though they were grinding between his teeth as they made their way out.
He blinked once, looking away from me as if the very sight of me would give him a strong reason to erase my existence. A bile formed in my throat, and I could begin to feel the copper tang of blood in my mouth.
Someone had caught sight of what was happening, and had informed the guests in the hall, drawing their attention and causing them to see just how deep I was in the pit of ridicule.
First I was rejected, and now this? No one has a luck as rotten as mine.
The urge to scream for help filled me, but my throat was closed up. The men stood before me like a giant wall, a towering spruce that made everything else feel like dwarves.
My eyes caught Malcolm's gaze, and there was something in me that hoped he would come to my aid, that he would at least consider what we shared before now, but he only glared at me with hateful eyes.
"You see…." He continued as he adjusted his cuff links, "when things like you piss me off, I release my most dangerous animal, and watch that animal tear them to shred while they entertain me with their cries."
I didn't think that bumping into someone would incur such punishment, but who was I kidding? I had the worst luck of all.
"ALPHAS!" A familiar voice called amidst the crowds that had already gathered, and I didn't know why, but I felt a hint of relief coursing through me when I saw that it was Malcolm.
Maybe he would do this one thing for me after all.
I watched as the three men's gaze tore from me, but they didn't look in the direction of who had called them, instead, they waited until Malcolm was standing before them.
"Pardon my manners, alphas." Malcolm said very respectfully as he placed his palm on his chest and dropped on one knee in front of them.
Just who are these men? Malcolm is an alpha too, and alphas never bow to anyone, not even to their fellow alphas.
"What?" The one with the crimson eyes sneered, he had a smile on his face the whole time, but that smile was gone now as if Malcolm had distracted him from something very important that he was enjoying.
"This…." Malcolm hesitated for a second before continuing, "… slave, was roaming around because I have given her the liberty to do so, I should have taken better care of my slaves."
Me? A slave? Well, that's not too far off from what I'd become.
"So?" The amber eyed one chimed in, his voice low but authoritative.
"I want to urge you to leave the matter to me, I know how to take care of people like her." Malcom responded, and everywhere fell even more silent than a graveyard.
"You have five seconds to impress me." The blue eyed one spoke, and Malcolm immediately rose to his feet, averting their gaze as he gestured to one of the other guards.
I watched as everything unfolded with my heart in my stomach, I watched as Malcolm whispered to the guards, dread filling me.
"Enjoy the show, Alphas." Malcolm said with a polite bow as he stepped aside, and before my mind could catch up, the guards holding me had left me, but my freedom didn't last long as they began tugging on my dress.
I screamed, the sound so loud and piercing, but no one seemed to be bothered by it. The sound of my dress ripping to shred filled the open space, and soon, I was standing in nothing but my underwear.
No. No. How could he do this to me as if the humiliation of choosing my mother over me wasn't enough for him?
It wasn't loud, but I heard the disgusted sound the alphas made as their eyes raked over me, and the more they stared at me, the hotter and colder I felt.
The longer they looked at my bruised body, the more their eyes glazed over with a level of hatred that outmatched the one I saw in my mother's eyes.
They hated me. I was disgusting to them, and I didn't blame them, I was disgusting to myself too. I had open wounds that had refused to close, bruises that refused to heal.
My skin was loose thanks to all of the injuries, it was no wonder how, despite the fact that they tried to mask their expression, they looked like they were going to puke.
The first hit landed, and my legs gave out immediately as I fell to the ground—at their feet—but I saw how quickly they moved back so that I wouldn't get closer to them.
"Please." I never begged for my life, whenever my mother or Madison would hit me, I never begged, but this time was different, I didn't know why I was begging when it would be better if I really died.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose. I didn't do it on purpose." The pain became unbearable because as each whip landed on my back, it tore my skin, and there was another guard on standby who applied refined salt on the wound.
It hurts. It hurts so much. And everyone only watched with amusement.
My arms outstretched, I had no idea what I was reaching out for, but I didn't get it before another lash landed, and I felt my muscles tighten, the salt came, and I screamed again.
"Ahhh." My throat was starting to hurt, my vision was beginning to narrow as hot tears streamed down my eyes. "I'm sorry." I cried, but all fell on deaf ears.
Soon, the only sound I could hear was the sound of the people laughing, my mother mocking me, Malcolm saying I had thirty-five more lashes more to go.
The men's faces were starting to blur out, neither of them said or did anything as they watched me writhe in pain, crying, begging for them to make it stop.
Stop? My pain was never meant to stop, I should have known this by now. I should be used to it already.
"Please, moon goddess." I begged as my consciousness slipped away, the sound of the lashes hitting my back fading out, the pain feeling as though it was subsiding, and soon, everywhere became pitch black.