Chapter Thirty-Five

Ivy

Gasping for breath, my eyesight became hazy as I strained to distinguish the two lifeless forms sprawled in front of me.

Similar to Oliver, Father extended them permission to enter and have their revenge on me. And just like Oliver, when they were sated, Father wasted no time in terminating them, swiftly and decisively, using a single bullet to the head.

With each deliberate breath I took, I couldn't help but notice the rhythmic thumping in my chest, as if it was keeping perfect time and serving as a metronome for the passage of time. There was an abnormality in the volume of my lungs that caught my attention, and it was quite noticeable. Father brought his favorite metal cuffs and wasted no time placing them on my wrist. The subtle clink of the metal served as a constant and poignant reminder of my time with Father in the past. None of it good. Father moved with great speed, attaching the metal cuffs to a hook in the ceiling that I had not noticed before, thus eliminating any possibility of escape.

Struggling for courage, I clenched my fists and contemplated the daunting task of reaching up and unhooking myself, battling against the palpable fear that loomed in front of me. Despite everything, I couldn't bring myself to move my arms while I watched my father slowly take off his shirt.

"Punishment time, sweetheart."

The fear that gripped me was so intense that it spread throughout my entire body, rendering me motionless and unable to make a single move. Among the various punishments that could be administered, there was one in particular that Father had a fondness for.

In spite of the throbbing pain, I summoned all my strength to pry open my swollen eyes, resolutely blinking through the immense discomfort. With a sadistic craving consuming them, Miguel and Raul had been unwavering in their determination to inflict unbearable torment upon me before proceeding with their brutal and forceful acts. Without a doubt, I could feel blood seeping from one or both of the holes they had abused.

"Please, Father," I implored.

"You broke God's law, and now you must pay the price."

In my struggle to see, I exerted extra effort to strain my ears, desperately hoping to catch even the faintest sound that could give me a clue as to what Father's intentions were.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the room, getting closer with each passing second.

I felt a wave of true panic wash over me.

As I took each breath, I could feel my chest rising and filling with air, and at the same time, the sound of my heart pounding echoed loudly in my ears. A paralyzing fear took hold of me, causing me to remain frozen in place. The impending commencement of my punishment made me acutely aware that there was no possibility for me to intercede or put a stop to his actions.

"Father, please." My words died abruptly behind the force of a slap. Strong fingers struck my cheek just hard enough to get my attention.

"Quiet, slut!" his voice barked. The impact of the backhand hitting the other side of my face caused a surge of pain to course through me, instantly sharpening my senses and catapulting my mind into a sudden state of heightened awareness. "Whores may not speak."

I resisted the urge to cry out, to struggle.

The absence of any warnings or indications from Father didn't hinder my understanding of the gravity of my situation. His authoritative tone served as a clear indication of the consequences I would face if I were to disobey. I followed my intuition, which led me to the realization that any resistance on my part would be futile and would likely result in both pain and prolonged discomfort.

Father's punishment was delivered with such intensity that it caused waves of excruciating pain to crash over me, leaving me in agony. Driven by an unwavering determination, a meticulous approach, and malicious intentions, he relentlessly pursued a mission to shatter my spirit. It was the one thing that always eluded him, no matter how much effort he put in.

Unhooking my arms, I dropped to the floor.

I was so tired of feeling so weak.

My body was exhausted.

All I wanted to do was sleep.

Father's actions were intense as he firmly grasped a handful of my hair, applying a strong force that instantly brought me to my knees. With a commanding presence that demanded attention, Father forcefully tilted my head back, effectively preventing me from averting my gaze and making me meet his eyes as I looked up at him. The intense burning in Father's eyes was so powerful that it effectively communicated a clear message to me, silently urging me to either submit or face the inevitable consequences of enduring even more pain.

Forced to kneel before him, I found myself eye level with his cock.

The thick mass jutted out, dripping with desire.

Forcing my face closer to his naked shaft, I tried to resist, only to receive his fist striking my cheek.

Spitting blood onto the floor, I said, "You won't break me."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. I already have."

I gasped, protested audibly, attempted to pull away, shaking my head and stated, "You're wrong."

"Am I?" he sneered maliciously. "You think your biker will want you after you just fucked three men? And when I'm finished with you, I will plant my seed deep in your belly. You will give me what I want."

I slowly looked up at him and smiled and played my trump card. "I'm sterile."

"What?"

"I had my womb removed. No more fucking babies for you to kill."

Father roared, and his hand struck me over and over, harder and harder, inflicting his own pain filled agony of never achieving his greatest desire.

With one decision, I'd exacted my own revenge, and it was bitterly sweet.

Curling into a ball, I drifted off on a wave of pain, letting it take me far away from this horrible place and my greatest tormentor. Never again would he ever hurt me like he did that day in the blue room. Nothing he could do to me now would ever come close to the pain I suffered that day and realizing that teeny tiny bit of information made me fucking happy. Like honest to God, fucking elated. For the life of me, I couldn't explain it, only that I felt lighter, happier, fucking free for the first time in my entire life.

And then I laughed. Like full-on mad scientist laugh.

It was liberating.

Rolling onto my back, I forgot about the pain, my punishment, Father Dominic's death, the blue room, everything. I just laid there on the cold cement floor and laughed as if I were dying.

Somehow, deep in the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong. There was really nothing to laugh about in my life, but seeing Father look at me as if I had lost my mind only made the situation even funnier.

Rolling to my side, I got to my knees, laughing so hard it robbed me of air while my ribs ached, but I didn't care. Bracing my hand on the wall, I managed to get to my feet, gasping and laughing.

"You're fucking crazy!" Father shouted, which only served to lighten my mood even further. Leaning against the wall for support, I bent at the waist, resting my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath, when all I could do was laugh more.

Slowly shaking my head, I looked up at Father, and for the first time in my life, I didn't see the strong, powerful, evil man that used to scare me as a child. All that stood before me now was an old, withered man who resembled someone I knew once.

"I'm going to kill you," he seethed, fury turning his face a horrible shade of puce.

Smiling, I simply replied, "Like you did my son?"

When he didn't respond, I stood straighter, pushed off the wall, and took a step toward him. "You raped my mother."

He stepped back.

I stepped forward.

"You raped your daughter."

He took another step back.

"You sick son of a bitch. You used me for your own perversions. Let your perverted friends play with me. Sold me like discarded trash to have me killed."

"I was teaching you a lesson!" he shouted when his back hit the wall behind him.

Taking another step, I tilted my head. "And what lesson was that, asshole?"

"That you were to serve me. You were mine. I created you. You were perfect, but you couldn't do the one thing I wanted."

I nodded, understanding what he was trying to say. He was nothing more than a sociopath with psychotic tendencies. The man wasn't a sadist. He was a pedophile who enjoyed inflicting pain on little girls to show his dominance, and when those girls became no longer worthy, he used them to breed another, hoping the next one would do better. He was looking for the perfect, obedient woman.

Too bad for him.

There was no such thing.

"You wanted another daughter so you could train her like you trained me. You prefer them little because they don't fight back and you can manipulate, warp their minds into accepting what you do is normal. You sick FUCK!"

"You have no right to judge me!" Father shouted, shaking his head. "You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't, but I understand right and wrong. I may ignore it most of the time and do whatever the fuck I want. I know there is a difference between the two. And you are fucking wrong. Everything about you is. From the twisted glint in your eyes to the sadistic air that you breathe. You are an abomination and need to be destroyed."

"I'm God's vessel!" he sneered. "You can't destroy me."

I laughed. Really laughed.

"You can't be that stupid." I gasped, trying to catch my breath. "You are not God! You are a fucking piece of shit who enjoys diddling little girls and it stops right now!"