Chapter 129

Arsen. Pain was a constant. It pulsed through every nerve, seeping into my bones, a cruel reminder that I was still alive. My body felt like it had been through a meat grinder, and honestly, it probably had, over and over again. The cold floor beneath me was slick with something warm—blood, mine or someone else’s, I couldn’t tell but I was cold, too cold for my liking. I fought to keep my eyes open, to stay conscious. But the weight of exhaustion and pain dragged at me, whispering for me to let go. To stop trying to reach for my son. History was cruel for repeating itself in such a comical way, however, this time I was the one on the receiving end. I was the one being tortured. I was the one that knives dug into their skin. I was the one that begged for their life. My piece of shit of a father would have laughed at me. He would have scolded me for being a weakling. For not being strong enough to keep my son safe but what did he know about family? He made me kill at the ripe age of eigh