Demon Disgrace Read online

  Spinning me around, he slammed my back against the wood. One hand, pressed just at the base of my throat, pinned me in place. I could feel his thumb against my collarbone.

  He lifted the glass he held in the other hand as if I needed proof of how fast he could be. My move hadn’t been about me escaping although I would have if he’d tripped on his face or something. It had been about proving I wasn’t afraid of him.

  And that was my biggest mistake.

  He leaned in close and growled low, right in my face.

  “Hannah, I see what’s inside of you, and you’re already using it.”

  Before I could ask what that meant, he had me over his shoulder. This time, I fought him as he strode to the bathroom. Breaking my silence, I called him every hateful name I could think of just before he plopped me down and cold water blasted my back.

  He once again resumed his leaning position outside of the glass door.

  “Bathe. You reek of vomit.”

  I stood in the cold water, shaking with rage and reminding myself to have patience.

  “Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

  “Because you’ll leave.”

  I lifted my hands and mimed myself choking the life out of the idiot.

  “I didn’t mean why are you standing outside the shower. I meant, why are you here? Why are you involved?”

  Thankfully I’d put my hands down before he glanced over his shoulder and met my gaze.

  “Because Emily asked.”

  “I see,” I said neutrally, my thoughts already racing with what that meant and how I could use it.

  “No. You don’t, but you will.”

  He turned around, missing my glare.

  “Wash, Hannah.”

  I gave his back the finger, then stripped out of my clothes and once again tossed them out on his head. He flicked them to the floor, as unbothered as he was the first time I’d done that, and waited with seemingly endless patience as I washed. I decided to test just how far that patience stretched and took my time with each limb. I lingered long after the water cooled and my fingers pruned. He just continued to lean there.

  Giving in, I washed my hair.

  Like the last time, he left the bathroom just before I shut off the water. Privacy was good. I needed to think without him watching me.

  Merdon was here because Emily asked. A small, victorious smile tugged on my lips. He’d given me the key to my freedom with those three little words. I knew how obsessed fey could get over a girl. He would do anything Emily asked.

  I toweled my hair and thought of my next move.

  Swaying Emily into stopping this lockdown shouldn’t be hard. She said all along that she only wanted to help me because she thought I was drinking too much. Pulling myself together and acting normal for a while wouldn’t be a problem. I’d done it hundreds of times before. But because of that, convincing her my actions were real might take some time.

  That thought exhausted me.

  Resting a trembling hand on the countertop, I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t look good. Dark shadows smudged the thin skin under my eyes; my overall hue could only be described as waxen and sickly; and I was far too thin, something that Emily had been worrying about for a while. As I stared, another face superimposed over mine, likewise sickly and waxen.

  I quickly turned my back on the memory and clutched my head while humming a flat note. My mind wanted to wander back to that day. It whispered that I hadn’t yet suffered nearly enough to make up for what I’d done. It was the small, hateful voice eating at my thoughts and stirring my misery that reaffirmed my plan. I needed out of this room so I could find enough booze to shut down the memories and the voice again.

  It took another minute of rocking and humming for my head to clear enough for me to consider my next steps. Emily wouldn’t believe I was better until I stopped looking like I was two breaths away from turning into an infected. That meant food.

  The thought of eating something didn’t appeal to me in the slightest, but by eating real food, bathing, and acting nice, Emily would see the change she wanted to see. She always had in the past. I’d be out of this room by tomorrow morning, latest. No problem.

  With my mind set on a plan, I wrapped my towel around my torso and left the bathroom. I only made it a step into my room before pausing and blinking in confusion.

  The mattress no longer had any sheets covering it, and Merdon wasn’t sitting in his usual place in the chair beside my bed. The chair now waited by the closet with a TV tray set up next to it. Merdon leaned against the door, blocking any means of escape.

  I looked at the soup waiting for me, the shirt and yoga pants set out on the mattress, then Merdon.

  “Would you mind facing the door so I can change privately?”

  He tilted his head, considering me, then moved so he was facing the window. If I stayed by the bathroom door and changed there, he wouldn’t see me. It was at least something. Grabbing the clothes, I quickly dressed while glancing at the soup. There wasn’t anything in it. No noodles or meat. How was I supposed to show Emily that I was better by drinking that?

  “I’d like to talk to Emily,” I said.

  He grunted and returned to his original position, making no move to get her.

  “The broth smells great and everything, but I was hoping for something a little more substantial. And maybe a cake. She knows I like cake.”

  “You don’t need cake. Eat.”

  “I wouldn’t be eating; I’d be drinking. I’d still like to talk to her.”

  He neither did nor said anything, just stood there.

  Fine. I could get her attention without him.

  “Emily!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  “She won’t answer you,” Merdon said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re mean.”

  I wanted to kick him in the balls until they popped out of his mouth, make him swallow them, then do it all again.

  “I’m not mean. I’m nice.”

  “Maybe you were once. Not anymore. Eat, Hannah, or I will help you.”

  We both knew what his version of helping meant. I sat and drank the broth. It wasn’t easy. It almost came back up twice, and I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if it had been real food.

  When I finished, I looked at the bed.

  “Is Emily washing everything?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “There should be another set of sheets in the hall closet. I can get them.”

  He just stared at me.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

  “Figure out how to live.”

  My fingers curled before I could stop myself. His gaze flicked to them, and that hint of amusement crept into his expression.

  I didn’t think it was possible to hate him more, but he always managed to up his game.

  Chapter Twelve

  How long did it take to wash some bedding? Forever. I considered just lying on the bare mattress, but I knew what Merdon and Emily were doing. They were testing my reaction when provoked.

  Goading me was something that Merdon did very well. With his arms crossed over his massive chest, he leaned against the door and watched me. I didn’t mind the watching. It was the damn judgmental look in his eyes. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking and doing. I hated it. More importantly, I hated him.

  “I’m hungry,” I lied. “Can I have some crackers or something?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you wanted me to live, not starve to death.”

  He snorted. It wasn’t an amused snort; it was a disparaging one. I barely kept my fingers from curling into the claw-his-eyes-out position they’d taken before.

  “Nothing to eat. Nowhere to rest. And nothing to do. Since I’m not into Tibetan throat singing, providing me a book or some other activity would have been considerate.” I wanted to add in a dig about him not being able to read but swallowed it down. I would not give him more fuel for hi
s “mean Hannah” remarks.

  He made no comment as I continued to pace the small confines of my room.

  “Why can’t I go downstairs and just watch a movie? It’s not like I’d be able to leave with you dead-eying me all the time.”

  He grunted. I couldn’t tell if he agreed that I would never get by him or rejected the movie watching. Probably both.

  I glanced at the window again. It was already getting late. I hated this time of day, especially sober, because I knew what was next.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

  “Emily?” I called.

  There was no answer.

  Merdon removed his weight from the panel and opened it to reveal an empty hallway.

  “What the hell? Is she avoiding me?”

  Merdon bent down to pick up the tray I hadn’t noticed sitting on the ground.

  “Yes.”

  That one word confirmed the failure of my plans. Without Emily, there would be no escape from my prison or my warden.

  Seething, I glared at Merdon and moved without fully thinking. I couldn’t. I was too focused on the pretty visual I had floating in my head of him falling face first into the bowl of broth. That lovely fantasy evaporated when he pivoted suddenly and caught my outstretched hands in a forceful grip.

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” I said with a cheeky smile I didn’t mean.

  “Your attempts are pathetic and weak.”

  “If they’re so pathetic, how did I manage to get you to the ground once already?”

  He thrust me away with enough strength that I stumbled back a few steps and fell onto the bed.

  When I looked up, the door was closed once more, and the bowl of soup rested in his open palm.

  “Same choice,” he said simply, holding the bowl out.

  “I’m tired of your games,” I said. “If you want me to eat, bring me real food.”

  “This is what you need.”

  “Screw you.”

  He was on me in an instant, his hand clamped on my jaw and the other forcing the bowl between my clenched teeth. I only struggled for a moment before I gave in and gulped the broth. My lips and jaw hurt, and I knew it could get worse if I fought harder. I didn’t want worse; I wanted complacency and escape.

  I thought giving in would make it better. It didn’t.

  As soon as I swallowed the last of the broth, I was over his shoulder again.

  “Not the shower, you son of a—”

  His hand landed on my ass with a thunderous crack. I squealed and squirmed.

  He deposited me in the shower and turned on the water while I was still trying to rub out the sting.

  “I just bathed, asshole.”

  “And spilled soup all over yourself. Wash.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Too angry and with my ass stinging too much to think clearly, I moved to the far corner of the shower and sat with my arms wrapped around my knees. I didn’t care about the cold water beating down on me. I knew it would warm eventually. I only cared about not giving the grey douche canoe another inch. It helped that the tile cooled the sting on my butt cheek. I hadn’t been spanked like that since I was six and got into Mom’s shaving cream. I’d made a horrible mess on the carpet with it.

  “Get up and wash, Hannah.”

  I looked up, water hitting my face. Through the drips, I saw him glaring at me. I returned the favor.

  “You hurt me. Fey don’t hit women.”

  “I didn’t hit a woman. I spanked a child. Get up.”

  I knew what would happen. He’d proven himself to me already. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from slowly giving him the one-finger salute. I was done with him trying to control me.

  His chest lifted in a large inhale, and I hoped that meant I was pissing him off as much as he was me. I rescinded that thought the moment he opened the door and stepped in. My butt couldn’t take another spanking.

  He had me off the floor and my shirt front full of soap before I could blink. He wasn’t nice about the scrubbing, but he wasn’t being a creeper about it, either. His touch was efficiently brief. And I fought it the whole time, hands and elbows flailing. I caught him hard enough to elicit an “oof” from him at least once before I was pinned against the cold wall, his hand buried in my hair, holding me in place.

  I panted heavily. As soon as I caught my breath, I’d give him round two.

  He leaned in, his mouth close to my ear.

  “Pathetic and weak, Hannah. That’s why you’ll never leave this room.”

  Fire ignited in my soul. Forgetting about a break, I struggled in his hold. His chest pressed against my back, and I felt it vibrate with his mirth.

  “Stay in your wet clothes or change. It’s up to you. They’re clean again.”

  Just as swiftly as he’d entered, he was gone.

  It took every ounce of willpower to stay upright. Fighting Merdon had drained me beyond what I’d thought was possible. My legs felt like jelly and almost gave out when I peeled myself from the wall.

  As I shed my wet clothes, I wondered if my act of defiance had proven anything more than he truly did control me. Bitterly, I faced the mirror. My skin was pink. Whether from the manhandling or the hot water, I couldn’t be sure. What I’d hope to find was absent. Not a single bruising mark marred my skin. I couldn’t understand how when all of me ached.

  Taking a towel, I repeated the process of drying my hair for the second time that day. Nothing was working. I couldn’t talk to Emily. I couldn’t prove I was fine. I’d be stuck in this room forever. Why? What was the point of all of this? If Emily cared, she wouldn’t have sicced her guard dog on me. There was no way she couldn’t hear what he was doing to me. That she was okay with all of it spoke volumes. It also meant I needed to think of another way out.

  I just didn’t have the energy to come up with a single, useful thought. Even lifting my arms to scrunch my hair in the towel was too much. Letting the towel drop to the floor, I looked at my curls that were more frizz than spiraled. I remembered how much I’d hated frizz. It was an old emotion, one that didn’t matter anymore, like so many others.

  Completely naked and uncaring, I gave the mirror my back and shuffled to the door.

  Before I reached it, I heard them and pressed my ear against the wood.

  “…doesn’t sound like it’s going well.”

  “She’s not making it easy.”

  The deep timbre of Merdon’s voice was unmistakable and sounded very close. They were purposely trying to speak quietly. Why? So I wouldn’t know Emily was in there and try to talk to her? She and I were past that possibility, and her next words proved it.

  “We could try something else.”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  There was a rustle of cloth, and I could picture her pressing up against him, ensuring he would be okay with whatever she wanted. I’d taught her that move. Traitor.

  “What I want doesn’t matter.”

  I gripped the knob and twisted. It didn’t move, just like my bedroom door that first day.

  “Emily!” I yelled, slamming my hand against the door. “When I get out of here, we’re done. Do you hear me? You can’t do this and expect things to ever be the same again.”

  I hit the door again and put my shoulder into it when I tried the knob again.

  This time, I came spilling out, a tangle of limbs and naked skin as I fell to the floor. My knee took the brunt of the impact. The throbbing pain didn’t slow me as I picked myself up and looked around the room for the pair.

  Emily was already gone, the door closed, and the bed made. Lights from the wall were illuminating the dimly lit room. Merdon was returning the chair to its original place. He didn’t look at me, for a change. I did. I looked down at myself and felt a sharp stab of humiliation.

  Gracelessly getting to my feet, I hobbled over to the bed. My hands shook from exhaustion as I slid into the new yoga pants and shirt that waited.
I didn’t look up from what I was doing even when I heard Merdon move to look out the window.

  My heart hurt more than ever before. Who was I anymore?

  Without acknowledging him, I slid under the covers. My stomach made a sound like a waterbed as I finally settled against the mattress. I couldn’t believe I’d kept the broth down through all of that. I frowned, realizing I actually felt a lot less sick.

  Fucking Merdon.

  I closed my eyes, ignoring the tears sliding down my cheeks.

  Trapped in my own hell, I ran through the trees, towing my sister with me. The infected moaned behind us, their sounds almost drowning out our ragged breathing.

  The familiar panic and fear coursed through me, making my heart race.

  I wanted to scream and rail against what I knew was coming. I tried to open my mouth and make some kind of sound. I tried so hard my throat hurt. My mouth never opened, and I continued running, and like all the times before, I helplessly relived the moment I left my sister behind.

  I could almost feel the trails my tears should have made as I looked back at her and watched her disappear under the crush of infected. I tried harder to force myself to stay with her. To do something other than run away.

  Yet, I turned, and I ran. I ignored her shrieks for help and the wet sounds that would forever haunt me. I ran until I collapsed. Then, I forced myself to my feet and stumbled into the home Katie and I had been using for days.

  I huddled in the corner of the bedroom we’d shared, and I sobbed as my soul shattered. But I still didn’t scream. I couldn’t make that kind of noise. It wasn’t safe.

  The dream shifted.

  My stomach cramped. I moved around the kitchen, looking for a scrap of anything we might have missed, but I knew it was all gone. It had been for days now. Since the day Katie and I had left our sanctuary to find a better place with more food.

  Eyes watering, I closed the cupboard and looked outside. If I wanted to live, I’d need to leave. The thought terrified me, which is why I’d chosen to slowly starve myself for the last two and a half days. My stomach spasmed harder, letting me know that waiting any longer wasn’t an option.

  After drinking my fill of water, I took a knife from the kitchen and slipped out the door.