Untouchable by Marii Solaria

Chapter 27 – Bloody Vengeance

“This truth drives me into madness. I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away.” “Whisper by Evanescence

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(Content Warning: Mentions of Rape and Violence. Reader discretion is heavily advised)

Kiya

Never have I thought I’d be in this position.

Facing the man–no. The monster who took pleasure in abusing me in the most heinous of ways.

I took the beatings and humiliation. I was taciturn and isolated, yet mended my abandoned heart with the miserable thoughts of being unlovable.

But the day that guard crept into my cell was the beginning of my nightmares. Night after night, he had his way with me. Internally and externally with a free rein of what I idiotically called a body. A soiled temple. Rapid muscle loss didn’t discourage his sinister hands from stealing my autonomy and leaving me broken and bloody.

Brown came in plethoric shades. Russet unveiled the rich, liquid gold in the sunlight. Umber is dark, pulling the viewer into a sea of secrets. However, the guard’s brown eyes came in the shade of evil. Wickedness is

unrivaled to ill–famed autocrats of our horrible world.

My heartbeats thump piercingly in my ears, dissimilarly to the surrounding deafening silence of the corridor. My lungs work through my narrow breaths, desperate for adequate oxygen I failed to deliver. Sweat rolls down

mytes and my muscles tremble–the heightened response to fear.

Fear of being hurt by a rapist.

“It’s been a long time, Halima.” His vile breath assaults my nostrils like a battering ram, triggering nausea in my stomach. “You look great.”

I didn’t answer. I took in the aging appearance of the devil’s son. Muscles in my lips are paralyzed, but my defenses crumble, exposing the dark memories that danced in their freedom.

“No!” I heard the voice. “Please, stop!” The voice of my old self, Halima. The voice of the victim. My

voice. “Leave me alone!”

Therapy is a double–edged sword. It helps to process the turbulent events of one’s life, but it forces the individual to remember the terror like it happened a couple of hours prior. Hurt never disappears–it’s only buried deep in the abyss. It remains and feasters like an infected wound, spreading mercilessly.

I wanted to forget. I needed to forget.

“You never thought to come and greet your old friend? Halima, I’m ashamed of you.”

That smile. That damned smile that haunted my dreams and nightmares as a weak teenager. It lovingly sheltered me in violent chills with reminders of my lowest moments. Lower than what former Alpha Jonathan

could ever make me feel.

“Stop struggling, bitch!” I heard his voice, then the resounding slaps. “You should be grateful that someone wants

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a touch your sorry–looking body.”

How many times have I gazed in a mirror, wishing for a different body? A body untainted and unblemished from innumerable types of hands. A pure body touched by love, not viciousness. How many times have 1 coveted to shed this old skin? How many times have I’ve thought about carving out the areas he touched with a silver blade, so I never have to feel his phantom fingers again?

How Many F*cking Times.

There it was: the familiar pain–agony of being torn apart internally, being held down to a dirty mattress, defenseless and vulnerable. The cool breeze licking my exposed legs and his hard knees forcing my legs apart.

soul shattering with each cataclysmic thrust. Even

Screaming.

Begging.

Crying.

Bruising.

no one cared. I was to clean and be unseen. Unheard. The torture that everyone turned the blind eye

innocence from me. A potentially fun, blissful, first sexual experience turned into a tragic story of theft

my voice emotionless. Red spots flashed before my eyes, breaking through my vision. Growing. Lusting for gore and

a burst of hearty laughter. So, that’s what it is? My pain is comedic, just like many in this pack. “I call it a gift because I was the only one who wanted you. I’ve taught you a lot of things, Halima. You should thank me for giving you the

you’ve raped me on and off for three years? That I’ve cried and prayed to the Moon Goddess every night for you to leave me alone? And that

He chuckled heinously. “Alpha Jonathan permitted us to do whatever we wanted to you. I was needy, and you were

My mind blanked

Silence.

stopped. Artemis remains behind the mental wall–protected from the haunting memories. She can’t know. My wolf was tucked away safely, so she didn’t have to see his sweaty

not the little bitch crying in the cobwebs of her cell. I’m not the little

hands of whoever is unfortunate enough to bear the Zircon Moon mark.

I’m furious.

I want vengeance.

I want blood,

I want death.

on my neck pulsated, reaching out to its creator. “Let go of your Inhibitions and feel your anger. Allow for the rage to take over. Who cares if a little blood gets spilled? Those stupid Omegas will clean

He’s right.

played the part of the good girl

be a monster. I want to be the

smile sweetly at the unnamed guard, my claws lengthening underneath my fingernails. “You

of passion and unadulterated rage. The color of the unhinged beast that even Artemis will quake in fear from. Broken from its chains, it’s ready

my f*cking name is

violence took aback him, but I didn’t stop there, I threw another punch, landing again on

bones and more blood! I wanted to feel the power he took from me! His large body fell to the ground when I kicked his knees in, laughing

the white walls with a charming splash of crimson. “No harm, no foul,

up, I knocked him down. He threw a punch. I caught it and

That’s how it should be; him cowering as I unleash years‘

nose, he sported deep claw marks on his right ch*ek, exposing the

from

blouse and skirt, adding to my grotesque appearance. But hey, it’s a fashion statement! It’s only a matter of time before the f*cker turns into a coward and calls

27 – Bloody Vengeance

him down the stairs when we got close enough.

onto the pristine floors of the foyer. A werewolf’s healing is a beloved and accursed

to break them all

“It’s

enough.” Reaching the bottom stair, I rammed my foot into his face again, hitting an eye. “This is nowhere near the amount of f*cking pain you’ve caused me for years! You deserve to be castrated!”

pathetically screamed. “You think beating me up would

a fistful of his greasy brown hair. “Killing you will ensure you’ll never

coriander and it tickles the demons deep within. The pungent aroma grew with

from my lips. Weak. He’s f*cking weak. My darkest fantasies of delivering this same treatment to others brought life into my tired muscles,

grew silent. He’s dead, perhaps?

hope

did it? Do you see what happens when you allow yourself to feel the

That’s the thing.

be free. Not as long as I feel the deep–seated pain that ravages my body like a disease.

my feet, I examined the crime scene I’ve created. The blood trail begins from where I first drew blood, trickling down to the bottom of the stairs with the bastard’s face lying in its mini–pool of red.

pain is not enough.

shit, what the f*ck?!”