FALL (The Senses) by Cindy Paterson Read Free Book Online Page B

found an outlet, something to help take her pain
away. She knew it was wrong, illogical and stupid, but surviving immortality
without Waleron was illogical.
    She used
her knives to cut her skin. Never to kill herself, that would end the pain and
defeat the purpose. No, she cut to take away the emotional pain.
     

 
     
    Waleron
     
    Location:
Unknown 1987 (61 years presumed dead)
     
    Sixty-one
years of unimaginable torture. Pain so horrific that often he passed out. The
silk webs strapped across his naked, shivering body cut like knives into his
flesh with the slightest movement. Even when the Lilac Jasmine locked him in
the cell, her webs remained latched to his skin so he was unable to Trace to
the Realm. She must have known that a Taldeburu was unable to Trace with open
wounds, except to the Realm. Like chains, her unbreakable webs that shot from
the tips of her fingers kept him trapped here.
    Pain had
become his existence, his way of knowing that he lived and that this was real,
although he wondered how much of him would be real if he ever escaped. He
suspected that if it weren’t for his Scar, any goodness left inside him would
have been dead long before now. He realized that this was why the Goddess had
given him a unique tattoo unlike any other Scar. His Scar kept him sane,
reminded him of his oath of why he walked this Earth. The tattoo rested on his
shoulder and neck feeding on any anger, quiet and subtle, never moving. Without
the snake tattoo, he suspected he’d be crazed with rage by now, determined to
kill anyone in his path, good or evil.
    The
unimaginable torture of standing contained in Jasmine’s webs was pure torment.
When his legs failed him, as they often did, the sharp silk strands cut into
his flesh so deep that only the density of his bones stopped them from cutting
him into pieces. He’d often pass out only to wake with wounds that released his
screams into the air like a tortured lion.
    She had
removed the neck-prong device yesterday. He’d stood immobile for days, unable
to turn his head or the prongs would drill holes into his flesh. Every few
months she put it on him to test his resilience.
    He
winced as he took a deep breath and the webbing sunk further into his flesh.
His jaw clenched, eyes staring forward into the darkness of the subterranean
room where Jasmine kept him hidden. It was void, filled with the scent of wet
stones and musky, soiled air. The room was the size of a large walk-in closet
with a low ceiling and walls made of cement. Waleron could feel the density of
what was beyond the walls, which he gathered was soil. He felt like a raw piece
of meat hanging on a hook in a cold cellar.
    The one
and only candle flickered as he heard Jasmine coming down the stairs. Her
distinct aroma made his stomach lurch.
    She
stopped in front of him and smiled, shaking her head from side to side and
clucking her tongue. “Do calm yourself, Waleron. You know it only makes the
pain worse.” She slipped her hand past the webs and like Moses and the Red Sea,
the strands parted. She gripped his right arm and pulled it past the barriers.
“Now look what you’ve done. All these cuts for nothing. You know it’s pointless
to fight what has become your fate.” She stroked his wrist with the tip of her
padded finger. He remained frozen, unable to pull back, unable to do anything
but feel her sickly touch on his skin. “I have news concerning your Delara.”
    His
muscles flexed and he felt like his mind was on fire, burning with anguish and
fear of what her next words would be.
    Jasmine
reached forward again, but this time lower, between his legs to cup him in her
hand, stroking the sensitive surface with the tips of her fingers as she often
did. His ice-blue eyes stared with undaunted coldness as she touched him
intimately, her body rubbing up against his own, fingers grasping him, playing,
stroking, hoping to get a reaction, but all he thought about was ripping
Jasmine to shreds. He’d suffer and