Of course, a small fuss was made over the demonstration of his power that had not gone unnoticed, and because he had spilled that monster's blood and knocked out a tooth in the process.

But that monster, whose name was Henry, assured them that there was no problem.

And there wasn't. Not for him.

Throughout the whole process, he wore a big smile of satisfaction on his face. Satisfaction at having gotten what he wanted, what he had been looking for all along.

Most of all, he suspected, satisfaction that the way things had turned out confirmed his personal perspective of the world.

That the world was bending to his will, that he could get anything he wanted.

It was maddening.

He couldn't stand it.

That's why Desmond didn't hear what kind of excuses Henry employed. Out of rage, the blood pounded in his ears, preventing him from hearing anything but his heartbeat.

He should do it, and to hell with the bystanders and the inevitable consequences.

He should kill him with his bare hands. Anything, anything so long as it wouldn't happen. That he wouldn't take her.

But Desmond knew he wouldn't be able to do that.

He was a selfish person. It was very easy to tell himself that some things couldn't be avoided when this was a decision Amy had made.

If he killed Henry, he would go to jail and Abigail would be out of his reach.

It was easier to stand aside and pretend he had done everything he could. That is, nothing.

At least they'd accompanied her to the end. That didn't change that he was a deeply selfish person, that he was human garbage...but they didn't abandon her. Not until they had no other choice.

They said goodbye again, before Amy entered the vehicle with the monster and his servant.

They watched as the vehicle drove away, being swallowed by the horizon. They saw her back through the rear window.

Amy was an incredibly strong person, so not once did she turn around. Not once did she look back. But they couldn't look at anything but her.

Desmond felt like he was on the verge of losing control again.

Not to be overpowered by anger, he didn't mean that. This latent power, for which he still had no explanation, the same one with which he had almost caused the roof to fall in on them. That had marked a proof of what had happened on the walls, two large black wings.

He felt that latent power was about to escape again and Desmond would cease to be himself.

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, Desmond trembled, trying to keep it under control.

But... He couldn't help but think of the way he had shattered the Empire's war machine, using that power. The speed. And the wings, which he could use for their natural purpose.

The wings, with which he could surely fly fast enough to catch the car, land on top of it, rip the roof off and take that piece of shit out of there. He could kill him and the driver too, just to make sure, no, he didn't deserve to die, not that person, but he could threaten to kill him, that could work, and he'd bury Henry in the woods, and no one would have to know anything, nothing, nothing....

Desmond took a deep breath.

He could handle this. He didn't know what it was exactly, but he knew where it came from, and he could handle this.

He walked back with Christina to the team's room, which suddenly seemed so big, so empty. It was stupid, but... he became fully aware of the enormity of what had just happened as he saw the room like this and noticed this emptiness.

In the room and in the center of his chest.

"What do we do now? "Christina was also struggling to control herself.

Not to not go after the vehicle, but to not burst into tears. It showed in her strained voice.

Desmond was devastated, but he didn't feel like crying, and it made him feel like an insensitive bastard. He wished he felt like crying. He wished he was crying.

Then maybe...

He would feel better? Was that what was important, his feelings?

Of course it wasn't. Of course not, dammit!

"I'm not going to let it end like this," Desmond declared.

"But what can we do? Now that he's taken her away, can we do anything when we couldn't even do it before?"

She wasn't poking holes in his resolve with the intention of making him wake up to reality.

She was simply asking him, as if believing, even if only halfheartedly, that he had an answer to that.

And he did. He did.

"We can do this. "He turned his back to her, because it would be weird to look at her while talking to someone else. "Abigail, please..."

The plea died on his lips. Because his savior was already there, in front of him.

Of course, he was the only one who could see and hear her, just like that night. But Christina could see him perfectly and draw the obvious conclusion from his strong reaction. She looked at him as if she knew, at least. But she said nothing.

"How long have you been here?" Desmond asked, his heart pounding.

Abigail looked at him for a long moment.

"Since the beginning, or close enough. I sensed... the imbalance in your power, so I had to come and look."

"Since so long ago? Then why didn't I see you?"

"You only see me when I want you to. That's why I was able to watch over you when you were a little boy without you noticing anything, all those years.... But that's not what matters now. You don't need to explain the situation to me."

"Okay. Okay. You can do it, right? Can you save her?" It sounded like a question, that last one, but it wasn't a question.

He was convinced.

Not because it was what he wanted to believe, but because he had unshakable faith in her. In this and any other situation, it didn't matter. Abigail was not a human being, she was much more than that, she was a pure being.

And she was not hamstrung by the limits of human beings.

She could solve this situation even, surely, without shedding a single drop of blood.

She could do anything.

"I must apologize," his savior continued, "I would like it, but I have no excuse. I've just... I've been ignoring your calls until now.

"That doesn't matter. What matters now is Amy.

However, he couldn't hide a wince for a few seconds. Of all the possibilities he'd been tossing around, that had been the one he'd least wanted to believe.

Something he had considered a ridiculous paranoia that couldn't possibly be true.

But it was. The words had come out of her mouth.

And why, why had he done that to her?

But this was not the time to talk about such things.

"He has taken her away... That monster... With every second that we lose, she... I don't even want to think about it.

His voice was tight with barely contained anger.

"I'll see what I can do," she said, nodding, and disappeared from his sight.

Desmond took a deep breath, let the air out slowly.

"Is she going to help us? "Christina asked.

"Yes. She agreed.

That he had never doubted. He had been sure she would come to him in his hour of need, and she hadn't let him down. The only disappointment was that there was no special reason why she hadn't responded to any of his calls so far. She simply hadn't.

"What is she going to do? I mean, I want to...I want to help her..... "Christina clutched the book tighter, hands shaking. It was like a protective blanket for her. But it's not like that woman can just assassinate the president of the Sunderland Corporation and return Amy to us without anyone raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know what she'll do. But I'm sure she'd do it. The only question is... "His mouth was suddenly dry. How much damage that monster will do to her before Abigail saves her.

Gods, he didn't even want to think about that. But it wasn't the kind of thing you could get out of your head.

Every second mattered.

How would she be now?

■

The demon left the room without a word, without looking back even for a second, leaving her at last in peace. As at peace as she could be when every millimeter of her body burned.

Amy tried to concentrate on the rhythm of her breathing, on anything but the pain.

Not that she was having a hard time with it.

In fact, she was more than used to all of this. She was treated unreasonably all the time. A little over a month of a life as if she were daydreaming had not been enough to make her forget what she had come from, nor the defenses she had been building up out of necessity.

This was nothing. This was normal. Yes, he hadn't even been especially violent this time, to remind her that she belonged to him. That she could never escape.

It had simply been a beating... routine.

The very idea of something like this being routine should churn her guts, but, as she'd said, she'd gotten used to it. And, even if she hadn't, well, what else could she do?

This was the way her life would be from now on.

She had tried to escape, living in a dream, but the dream was over. Now she had nowhere to escape to. Now all she had left was the harsh, bitter reality.

Still, it hurt, it hurt so much, every inch of her body burned with pain. Getting used to the pain didn't make it go away. It just allowed you to deal with it better.

With some effort, Amy got to her feet, crawled forward, and soon after dropped down. On the bed.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

It was of course a better place to rest than the floor. Though it would take her body quite some time to sense the difference. Even something as soft as those blankets seemed painfully hard.

In this past month, it hadn't all been a dream. There had been nightmares too.

She' d had brushes with death many times, and had experienced pain like never before, changing her perception of pain even more than before. On a scale of one to ten, her ten higher than ever.

This pain was perhaps a five, at best, in an objective sense.

But she was still finding it hard to bear, and harder with each passing second. She didn't understand why. This was nothing new, she should have recovered quickly, she should have moved on with the empty, rotting shell that was her life. She should...

Cry.

Amy touched an eyelid with her fingertips, checking to her shock that she was actually crying. Yes, this she really couldn't believe.

When was the last time she had cried?

She really couldn't remember.

Even that night, when the three of them were this close to death or worse, she hadn't cried. Why now?

"Because I've already died," she said aloud to herself.

She didn't realize the gravity of those words until they came out of her mouth.

As if "something" else, something essential as fuel was for vehicles had escaped along with those words, Amy felt infinitely emptier.

As if someone had ripped open her chest and ripped out her heart.

Yes, she was dead.

Of course she was.

Her body was still moving, but her life had come to an end. From now on she couldn't be Amy for a single day.

She was doomed to be an object, a tool of her "father" until the day she died. That maybe... maybe it would be soon. Because having to endure this life without even being able to dream of a serious escape... it would be very difficult.

Yes. Very difficult.

She was already thinking about the end, and she hadn't even been here an hour, after all. An hour? Less than half, even.

Before the week was even over, she....

Amy gritted her teeth. Was she really going to leave this world like that? Hand it all over to that parasite on a silver platter, without fighting him once?

No.

Even if she had to die to be free, she could drag him down with her, couldn't she?

Now that she had nothing to lose, there was nothing wrong with killing him with her own hands. Nothing would change after all. It was all over now...

Right?

She found that it wasn't really true. Somewhere in her heart, she still harbored the hope that she could resolve this situation in a relatively peaceful and clean way, that is, a way that would allow her to return to Christina and Desmond, and put all of this behind her as if it were a bad dream.

Amy laughed to herself.

Those were the thoughts of a child who knew nothing.

Those faint illusions should have withered within her. She had thought they had, but instead they had only taken deeper root.

So Amy laughed and laughed, mocking herself.

Servants listening to her from the other side of the door as she passed by would surely think her crazy.

Not that she cared what the servants, or anyone, thought.

Besides...

Maybe she really was crazy. Maybe it would all be easier if she did go crazy.

■

When she calmed down enough, Amy ran her hand over her body slowly, applying healing magic. Any mage could heal things of this level.

She just had a nice collection of bruises and aches and pains that she could make disappear on her own.

If, for example, she had broken a rib, things would not have been so simple, she would have had to seek help. Of course, Henry had done it on purpose.

It felt wrong to refer to him by name as if he were a human being, as if he were even comparable to an animal.

That's why she generally avoided it. As if she didn't know what his name was.

He wasn't a human being, and he didn't even deserve to be called an animal.

But, unlike before, she would hold on tight to that name.

Because she needed something to engrave on her grave.

■

Her room didn't feel like her own room. That was one of the things the month away had changed. Before, for her this had been home.

A place where she could be quiet and at peace. A place of protection from the hostile world that lay on the other side of the door.

Now she recognized it for what it was. Nothing but another part of her cage.

It seemed so empty, small and... and, in a way, shallow. More like a dollhouse. This couldn't be a place where a human being lived, an inner voice was now telling her.

That man's doll, which he could place wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Dolls didn't have a life to live because they weren't alive. Just like her. The only difference between her and a doll was that she couldn't just be thrown away, because there was no doll to replace her. Thanks to her blood, he would always need her.

She would always be locked in this cage instead of being free.

But was that something that only affected her? Was that heavy iron chain only around her own neck?

No. No. No.

A few dry sounds. It took her several seconds to become aware that those sounds had been someone knocking at the door.

"Miss, are you in there?" Claudia asked.

She knew the names of all the servants in her service. At least she had known them, it depended on whether the man had fired some and hired others to fill the empty positions.

In any case, she had always made the effort to learn the names.

Because she didn't want to be like her father.

She didn't want to look at people as mere tools, whose only name was the function they fulfilled for him.

She didn't want to be like that or anything like that unnatural creature.

Amy got out of bed before answering the question with a question.

"Is it time yet?" She wasn't asking to make sure, she was really asking.

In this claustrophobic dollhouse room, she had lost all sense of time. It seemed that not a single second had passed, that time refused to move forward since she had arrived here.

"Yes."

Amy tensed, on her tiptoes, ready for a fight, as if the enemy had just walked through that door.

As if she was going to do something about it even though she hadn't entered.

"Unfortunately," Claudia added. It had escaped her. If anyone had heard her, she could pay dearly for that comment, sooner or later. At the very least, she would lose her job because of it... and, at her age, the chances of her finding another position were lower than normal.

That woman should have been more aware of that than she was.

But, still, she had said it anyway.

Amy smiled, reminding herself that she didn't just have enemies in this house. To say she had friends would be saying too much. But not everyone was her enemy.

Yes. It was a nice thought, even if it didn't do any good. Because the value of people shouldn't be reduced to how useful they were to you.

"Can I come in? "To help you get dressed, miss?

Amy gave it some thought.

"Okay," she said, without much energy in her voice.

Amy took the key, turned it in the lock and opened the door, letting in the older woman who had been waiting on the other side. When she passed through, she locked it again.

If the enemy came knocking at her door, she would have to open it anyway. In fact, she was now going to go of her own free will to the enemy.

But having the door locked made her feel better anyway.

Calm and safe. As if she had put a barrier between herself and the hostile outside world.

And she had done it, weak as it was.

"Let's get it over with," Amy said. "Oh, and I told you there's no need to call me "miss" when we're alone at least. Please do as I say."

Claudia smiled kindly.

"Excuse me... Sorry, it's a habit. I know it bothers you, but I prefer not to, you know, not to lose the habit because any day I could be careless at the worst possible moment and ruin everything."

"Oh."

I hadn't thought of it that way. If she put it that way, she had no right to complain. Just to satisfy her personal desires and be seen as a good person, when in reality, with that, she could be the cause of a catastrophe for poor Claudia who was not to blame for anything.

Her only " crime" would have been, if the premonition came true, to have been closer to her than other servants.

"You're right, I guess. Okay, keep calling me as you have been."

"No, no, don't worry. I know I just said it myself, so I may not sound very convincing...but I'm old, not senile. I don't think I'll ever be so careless no matter how freely I act when we're alone."

"Well. If it's alright with you, then... Well, fine. I'm grateful."

Not being addressed so formally wasn't the only thing she wanted.

Also, being honest, she would like to be able to talk to the woman without barriers between them. Without being aware that she was a lady and Claudia was a servant.

She liked her as a person. She didn't just talk to her because she had to, or because she felt she had a responsibility to treat the staff like the human beings they were.

The same couldn't be said for Claudia, though.

Well, probably.

If it weren't for the fact that she was her maid, they would never talk. At all.

They wouldn't have any kind of relationship.

So Amy kept quiet.She didn't utter that selfish and childish wish. Claudia wasn't her friend, but she was on her side... that was something.

Besides, she had friends to go back to.

Real friends.

She had once believed that Claudia was her friend, because she was all she had ever had. She had been a child who could only dream of having friends among the staff.

But now she had them. Now she had them.

She had a home to come back to and she would come back. Sooner or later. Not even the demon could stop her. She would take control of her own life. This life is mine, motherfucker.

But for the time being... She had to play along.

Amy undressed without a second thought. She had always lived with maids helping her get dressed. So she had no problem undressing, well, not in front of a woman.

She tried not to think that there were young maids not much older than her among the staff, and that some of them might enjoy that.... Because then their normal life would suddenly become very uncomfortable.

That problem was not within the realm of possibility with Claudia. Evidently.

Claudia helped her into an elegant blue dress, absurdly elaborate for what she was going to do with it.

It looked more like something to wear to a gala. A ball, some event of importance.

But no, she was just going to have dinner with the monster who had her trapped.

Just that, but he insisted that she treat it as an event of similar importance to the ones she had mentioned. It wasn't enough to go dressed in just anything.

If she tried to go to dinner in the clothes she had just taken off, he wouldn't let her have a bite to eat.

"How beautiful you look. Now I'd say you remind me of myself in my youth, but that wouldn't be true. I've always been ugly."

Amy responded to his joke with a small smile. Because she couldn't think how else to respond, she had put her on the spot.

Claudia patted her shoulders.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out for you, my girl."

Amy shook her head.

"No. You're wrong, nothing's over." Maybe she should have kept that to herself. Maybe.

But she trusted Claudia, and even if the demon knew she wasn't defeated, that she was still willing to do everything she could to escape the prison it had built for her....

Nothing would change.

In fact, if Claudia betrayed her and told him, well, why not, all the better.

Then that fucking bastard would know that the end was coming.

In fact, she was going to have dinner with him now. Maybe she'd tell him herself, face to face.

"I hope you're right," was her only reply.

They said goodbye.

Amy left the room and went downstairs to the dining room, where the man would be waiting for her.

As soon as she saw him sitting there, her stomach twisted, she felt like throwing up.

He didn't say anything.

He insisted on doing this day after day, but never, not once, did he greet her as she entered. Well, it was better that way really.

Amy sat down in her seat across the table from him.

The table was already set.

She picked up the silverware and began to eat.

"That boy... " said the demon, and Amy tensed involuntarily, as if waiting for him to hit her from the other side of the table. "The little bastard who knocked out one of my teeth, did he touch you?"

Amy shivered.

She knew him too well. She knew he was a monster inside and out, and that no one would miss him when he left this world, other than the partners whose pockets he had helped line, directly or indirectly.

Still, she couldn't help but be amazed at how dark his nature was, always.

He spoke as if she were his possession.

And that was what he believed. His little doll, in this sham of a dollhouse.

A piece on his chessboard.

That was the world to him, a big chessboard.

But fortunately, after the shiver, after the surprise, came disgust and anger.

Not weakness, but strengths, things he could depend on.

All that was a good sign.

It all showed that there was still hope for her.

"And why the fuck do you care? "she replied.

The demon's face twisted for a moment. It was scary to look at, but it suited him better than when he looked like a normal person. So at least he was as ugly on the inside as he was on the outside.

Ugly? Inhuman. No trace of humanity could be guessed from that face, and so it was.

Only for a moment, however.

After a moment, he regained that cold mask behind which burned an inferno.

"Because you can't go around cavorting with just anyone. And because you gave up as soon as I started threatening him. Although surrender doesn't seem like the right word anymore. You're rude, defiant. Ah, it seems the lessons I teach you never sink in, Amy. You seem to be hopeless."

If he knew her, if he even once bothered to get to know her, he would have know that she couldn't have any feelings for Desmond.

Since, between the two of them, Christina was more her type.

Not because of anything special. Simply because she had the right equipment and Desmond didn't.

But that wasn't the point.

"That's true. I'm hopeless, and I haven't given up. All this... you're just a little bump in the road."

There was no anger on his face. The demon set the fork and spoon down.

Resting his chin on top of his clasped hands, he leaned forward with a smile that made her sick. A smirk as if the outcome of the fight had been decided long ago.

"Poor deluded girl. Do you really believe what you're even saying? Well, it's possible. Because you don't even know what you're fighting against."

It was infuriating that her challenge had failed to break his mask this time.

It pissed her off that he had responded with something like that. That she didn't even know what she was fighting against? As if she was a child beating blindly around the bush?

Disgusting. Disgusting.

He wanted to deny her even that.

"Of course I know. You…"

"You don't know, Amy. You wanted to give up this easy life, full of luxuries, for the uncertain military life. What kind of father would be happy to see his daughter choose something like that? To risk her life as if it were worthless? It's normal to go off the deep end."

Now she really felt a chill.

"Who are you acting for? Or do you really believe your own lies? You talk as if this is the first time in my life you've ever laid a hand on me. You talk as if anyone with a modicum of sanity would like to live in this cage, especially with you as a jailer. Animal."

She didn't know where that courage was coming from. But the source of her words of venom, well, that was easy to answer.

She had been accumulating that venom for a long time.

"Show your father respect," his voice dropped several octaves.

"You're not my father. I know that. Mother confessed it to me on her deathbed. That you are nothing but a parasite who came to take the place of my real father. A street rat who now has a swollen head and has forgotten that he came from nowhere."

"Shut! Your! Fucking! Mouth!"

Oh, yeah. Now that was a good one. She' d never seen him so angry.

Amy was nervous, actually.

But her nervousness, that heavy feeling in her stomach like hot lead, translated into a confident smile that held no trace of her true feelings.

Still, something was something.

The demon, who had grown bored of appearing to be a human being, stood up.

She was faster, though.

She would always be faster because she was strong in a completely different sense in that the abomination in front of her was strong.

She rose with a fork in her hand.

Weapon she plunged into one of the demon's hands, which he reached out to put his hands around her neck. To teach her another lesson.

She skewered it on the table and reveled in the thick traces of pain on his face, and in seeing him, above all, in seeing him weak for the first time in her life.

"How dare you...?"

She tore the knife from the wound, retrieving it.

For a moment, she seriously considered plunging it into his neck and watching him bleed out on the table, as red tentacles spread across the tablecloth.

But she didn't.

The demon, a quivering sack of shit, fell to his knees, clutching his wounded hand.

As if he were praying in front of the table.

Ha.

"You have no power over me. Now I understand. Now I understand... you only have the power I give you. And that's over. Now, here and now, and truly... It's all over, "father"."