The Tyrant's Trophy

Maybell

Exhaustion seeped in.

No matter how long I slept, I remained exhausted. After taking out my rage on Quinn, hallucinating her as Phil, Quinn informed me of my husband’s experiments. She also thought it would be a good idea for me to quit my job - just until I could control these new...abilities.

She’s also my new counselor, for the time being, considering something clearly snapped in me. I don’t understand any of this but there’s nothing to do except comply; remain in the clinic and do tests: I’m back to being caged, I guess.

The only difference was smiling was getting difficult these days unless Chad was around. Also, wanting to get out of bed is beginning to be too daunting of a task.

In my last appointment, Quinn asked me if I remember the incident with the man in the alleyway. I lied and told her ‘no’. Well, it’s not a complete lie, I suppose, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I did black out when I saw the man holding a knife to the boy’s throat, but I remember sensations. I remember the sensation of the man under me, gasping - begging. I... remember how...good it felt.

It felt good to have someone at MY mercy for a change.

It felt deliciously thrilling to know I held someone’s life in MY hands and there wasn’t a thing that person could do about it.

It was...scarily empowering.

Remembering it sends shivers down my spine.

Maybe that’s why Phil would abuse me: Why he turned me into this? Because hurting me felt good at a level that’s intoxicating. I longed for that feeling again: to feel powerful and at the same time, I hated myself for wanting that rush of adrenaline.

In those moments, Chad became my lifeline. He didn’t leave my side unless to get us clothes and food. When I felt overwhelmed or particularly ready to do something unsound, I found myself clinging to Chad and just needing to breathe in his scent - needing him to keep me sane.

And he just held me.

No matter what, he’ll just hold me as tightly as I held him.

Like right now. We were in my room and he held me to his chest, letting me cry into him. This particular session was hard: Quinn asked about my daughter and what her name would have been. Also, how she died. I came back to the room, wanting to just bury myself next to my baby’s grave.

I wanted my baby so badly; it wasn’t fair she was gone.

Chad rubbed my back. “She would have been a year now.” I sobbed into his chest, imagining all the things I had hoped to do once she was born. “Phil took her from me.” Bile rose up my throat and I didn’t know what to do with this anger I felt. “He could have kept beating me but why did he take her from me?” Instinctively, my hair bawled up Chad’s shirt, wrinkling it, and I hated Phil even more for doing this to me.

My body was no longer mine.

Just as my husband told me over and over and over again.

I hated seeing my reflection in the mirror now.

My brown eyes now turned a light amber: my pupils shifted into slits like that of an octopus and my skin now seems to shift hues. My hair moved now as if they truly were tentacles; changing length and texture here and there. Along with those changes, my sense of hearing and smell heightened, making everything around me nauseously overwhelming. And I was hungry now: famished and overall afraid.

“I feel so crazy,” I confessed once I felt spent of today’s tears. Now, I just wanted to sleep and never wake up. Again, I found that only Chad’s scent chased the suicidal thoughts away.

Once again, Chad proved to be my last strand of sanity when instead of pushing me away, he just lifted me up and placed me on the bed, then laid beside me and continued to hold me. His heartbeat was steady; beating in a comforting rhythm and lulling me to sleep. Feeling my eyes shut, I couldn’t help but whisper, “Chad, thank you for being someone I can trust.” Then my mind eased off to the land of dreams where my sweet daughter was alive and I and her lived in a place far from the pain of life.

Chad was there too and it all felt natural.

He, me, and my baby girl.

(A/N: Who else wants to give Quinn that brick * v * It’s a short chapter but really, I think it’s necessary. What do you think? God bless.)