Chapter 12

twelve

My hands shook as I packed my bags, my movements urgent and frenzied. I had to leave, to put distance between myself and this haunted place. I'd figure out the rest later; right now, all I wanted was to escape the suffocating grip of this town and the secrets it held.

I made my way toward the door, each step a struggle. The pain in my pelvis flared with every movement. But I pushed through, gritting my teeth against the agony. I had to keep going.

Just as I reached the last step attached to the porch, a searing bolt of pain shot through me, causing me to stagger and collapse. I hit the ground hard, the impact reverberating through my body. I lay there, gasping for breath, my eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of hurt.

I felt weak, too weak to move. My body was failing me, betraying my desperate attempt to flee. I cursed under my breath, my breath coming in short, sharp pants.

And then, as if this moment wasn't humiliating enough, Grayson appeared. I felt his presence before I saw him, a chill running down my spine. I looked up, pleading with my eyes for him to just leave me alone. But he remained expressionless, watching me struggle from a few feet away.

I wanted to scream at him to go, to just let me be, but the words caught in my throat. I couldn't muster the energy to vocalize my desperation. I could only lie there, vulnerable and exposed, as he slowly circled me like a predator assessing its injured prey.

His eyes never left my hips, and I felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over me. I tried to crawl away, my movements jerky and desperate, but the pain was overwhelming. My fall obviously set back whatever fucked up healing my body had accomplished. It was like my body was actively revolting against my attempts to escape, reminding me of my fragility.

I cried out, my fingers digging into the dirt as I tried to drag myself forward. And then, suddenly, Grayson was there, crouching down. He caught my ankle in one hand, his grip firm but not cruel. I flinched at his touch, my body instinctively recoiling.

"Please..." The word escaped my lips in a raspy whisper, a plea for mercy. I wanted him to release me, to just let me go. But he didn't speak, didn't give any indication of what he intended to do. He simply held my ankle, his gaze locked on mine, as if studying my reaction.

I tried to pull my leg free, but my efforts were feeble. "Stop," I managed to choke out, my voice laced with anguish. "Just let me go..." But even as I begged him to release me, a part of me wondered if that was truly what I wanted. Was I really ready to face the world beyond Red Hallow, with all its unanswered questions and uncertain dangers? Or was this a sign I was better off here, trapped in this nightmare, but at least knowing the nature of the horror I faced?

I lay there, helpless, as Grayson knelt beside me. His touch was a paradox—a blend of harshness and tenderness that made my head spin and my heart race with dread. "Shhh," he breathed out, a sound that was meant to soothe but only chilled me to the core. His hand slid beneath my body, coming to rest on my shattered pelvis. Every muscle in my body clenched, anticipating the pain that was sure to come.

His fingers pressed gently, almost as if he cared, and then he lifted. A strangled whimper slipped through my lips as the world around me blurred into a haze of agony. I could feel the bones grinding against each other, a macabre symphony that threatened to pull me into the abyss of unconsciousness.

Tears streamed down my face, but there he was, holding me aloft, his dark eyes piercing into mine as his gravely voice said slowly, "not… ready." The weight of his gaze was more oppressive than the physical pain that wracked my body.

Then, without warning, he let go. My body crashed back onto the unforgiving ground, the impact stealing the breath from my lungs and wrenching a scream from my throat. Fresh waves of pain washed over me, and through the fog of my suffering, I saw him—Grayson, with a satisfied twinkle in his eyes.

He was toying with me, pushing me to my limits just to see how much I could endure. I was his plaything, a broken doll in the hands of a merciless puppeteer. But what was he preparing me for? What did he mean by "not ready"? The thought sent shivers down my spine, a cold dread settling into the pit of my stomach.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from Grayson, watching as he stood up and took a step back, his gaze never leaving me. There was an intelligence in his eyes, a calculating cruelty that was terrifying in its precision. He knew exactly what he was doing, and that knowledge made my blood run cold.

Grayson loomed over me, his presence a dark cloud that threatened to suffocate what little fight I had left. But as I stared up at him, something shifted inside me. A spark of defiance ignited, small but fierce.

"What do you want from me?" I croaked, my voice raw and trembling.

Grayson tilted his head, studying me with those cold, calculating eyes. He didn't speak, but his silence spoke volumes. He was waiting for something, expecting me to break or change or... I didn't know what.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up onto my elbows, ignoring the screaming protest of my battered body. "I'm not giving up," I spat, tasting blood on my lips. "Whatever sick game you're playing, whatever you're trying to turn me into - it won't work."

A flicker of... something passed across Grayson's face. Amusement? Approval? It was gone before I could decipher it. He crouched down, bringing his masked face close to mine. I could feel his breath, hot and heavy, ghosting across my skin.

My heart hammered in my chest, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I wanted to shrink away, to close my eyes and pretend this wasn't happening. But I forced myself to hold his gaze, to show him I wasn't broken.

"I'll find out what you did to me," I whispered, my words laced with venom. "I'll uncover every dark secret in this godforsaken town. And when I do, I'll make sure you pay for everything you've done."

Grayson's hand shot out, gripping my chin with bruising force. I flinched but didn't look away. For a long moment, we were locked in a silent battle of wills, neither of us willing to back down.

Then, without warning, he released me and stood up. I watched, wary and confused, as he took a step back. Was he leaving? Had my words actually gotten through to him?

But no. Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. He tossed it onto the ground next to me, the thud echoing in the tense silence.

I stared at the book, then back at Grayson. What was this? Another piece of the twisted puzzle? Or just another mind game?

With trembling hands, I picked up the leather-bound book Grayson had tossed at my feet. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at its worn cover, dreading what secrets it might hold. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and opened it to the first page.

The moment my eyes fell on the words, my blood ran cold. This wasn't just any journal - it was about me. The handwriting was unfamiliar, clinical, detailing experiments... experiments performed on me.

I slammed the book shut, my body shaking uncontrollably. A sob tore from my throat, raw and agonizing. The confirmation of my worst fears hit me like a physical blow, leaving me gasping for air.

My grandparents... the Hales... they had done this to me. They had treated me like a lab rat, a thing to be poked and prodded and changed. The realization was too much to bear.

I curled into myself, clutching the book to my chest as if I could somehow make its contents disappear. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the dirt on the floor. The pain in my body seemed insignificant compared to the ache in my heart.

Through my tears, I caught sight of Grayson. He stood there, unmoving, watching my breakdown with those cold, calculating eyes. Did he feel satisfaction at my pain? Or was there something else lurking behind that mask?

A surge of anger cut through my despair. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit up, ignoring the protest of my battered body. "Is this what you wanted?" I spat, holding up the journal. "To show me what a monster I am?"

Grayson tilted his head, regarding me with an unsettling intensity. His silence only fueled my rage.

"Well, congratulations," I snarled. "You've succeeded. I'm a freak, an experiment. But you know what?" I pushed myself to my feet, swaying but refusing to fall. "I'm still here. I'm still fighting. And I swear to the Gods, I will find out everything that happened to me, and I will make it right."

I watched Grayson's eyes flick to the packed bag by the door, his gaze burning with silent mockery. The weight of his unspoken question hung in the air between us: "Are you though?"

Without another gesture or sound, Grayson turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my shattered illusions of escape. The sound of his footsteps faded, replaced by the thundering of my own heartbeat in my ears.