Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“What the—You fucking stupid little kid!” he roars, and he pulls out his knife and kicks at me to get me to let go of his leg. “Release me!”
But I refuse.
There is nothing on this earth I wouldn’t do to keep that flower safe.
Because it’s my only reminder of something beyond these walls, these chains, this visceral pain as my trainer shoves the knife into my shoulder.
I roar out loud, releasing him for a second before I shove him aside with everything I’ve got. Then I stand and block the wall where the flower lies.
“You … You dare to defy me?” my trainer says through gritted teeth.
Fellow bunkies watch in awe, clutching their beds like they’re waiting … waiting for me to revolt.
My trainer pulls out his whip too.
“I will only say this once …” my trainer growls. “Get out of my way.”
“No,” I retort.
WHACK!
The whip cracks down on my chest with ease, but the pain is unlike anything else.
“MOVE!” my trainer barks.
But I stay put, guarding the only thing that matters to me in this life of pain.
Again and again, the whip comes down on me until I feel nothing but the burning sizzle of the marks he left on me.
“OBEY!” he roars, each whack harder than the one before.
But I do not relent.
Just like he taught me to in the face of pain.
After a while, he stops, and the gashes feel like smoldering paths left by volcanic ash.
My trainer breathes heavily as he pushes the whip back underneath his belt, only to lift the knife up in the air.
“What’s it worth to you, little shit?” he growls. “A flap of your skin? Your tongue? Your eye?”
I don’t respond.
And the knife slices through my face, all across my eyebrow and cheeks, narrowly missing my eye, only to cut into my skin like butter, splitting my face in two.
I hiss in pain but stand tall, arms still wide, ready to take whatever he needs to give me to make me suffer. To remind me of my place.
When he’s done, blood drips down onto the floor. My blood.
A heavy price to pay.
While his chest rises and falls with every breath, he simply stares at me, his eyes flashing with a peculiar kind of surprise.
“A flower … you are willing to risk it all for a fucking flower?”
I lower my head, still protecting the flower with everything I have left in me.
The knife folds underneath my chin, forcing me to look up. “Your life?”
“I have nothing if I don’t have that flower,” I respond.
He cocks his head and makes a tsk sound. “Pathetic.”
Then he tucks his knife back into his belt and shakes his head. “Fine. Keep that dried-up piece of wilted grass.” He spits on the floor in front of me. “Live with this fucking scar as a reminder of your disobedience.”
“Yes, sir,” I say through gritted teeth.
He kicks me in the stomach, making me buck and heave, but I continue to clutch the wall to make sure no one touches my precious gift.
“And clean up the fucking mess you made. I want this place spick-and-span by morning. I don’t care how long it takes you or if you get no sleep at all.” He turns around and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
The other trainees all look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What?” I bark at them.
They all scurry off to bed like rats running for cover.
And when there’s no one left to judge me, I simply turn and watch over the tiny little flower resting in that small nook inside the wall.
Even if my face and body are now marred for life … it was worth it.
CHAPTER 14
Aurora
Present
His story moves me so much it brings me to tears.
His hand rises to meet my face, and he touches the droplets with his thumb. “Why are you crying?”
“You got this scar … because of that flower. Because of me.”
He tips my chin up, making me look at him. “I got this scar because I chose to protect that flower. It was important to me, more important than life itself.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his chest, right where his heart is. “I choose to protect what I care about. You.”
Now it’s even more impossible to stop the waterworks.
And I lean in to press a soft but powerful kiss on his lips, hoping I can say what it means to me without words.
All of his pain, all of his sacrifices, led him to this moment.
Led him to me.
And even if it’s wrong, I still feel grateful.
Grateful that in all of his suffering, he found his way back to me.
We sleep through the days and the nights, waking only to kiss, make love, eat, and shower. Our days are spent resting and recovering from our wounds, both physical and mental. Every night I wake up drenched in sweat, only to realize I’m safe in his broad arms nestled around me like a cocoon.