Hellbound

⚠TRIGGER WARNINGS: This book contains sensitive topics including; physical, emotional, and psychological abuse, strong use of language, eating disorders, self-harm, and suicide. Readers discretion is advised.⚠

He had lost everything, his family and his country. The war they so confidently plunged into destroyed them and he was the only survivor among millions of warriors. His comrades had all died before his eyes, some protecting him, some fighting beside him. His people were taken, his wife violated and murdered in cold blood. His kids, bodies still warm, were hung up as trophees at the entrance. He had nothing left beside his thirst for blood and revenge.

His life had been spared when they decided to keep him as a war prisoner. But, he spent every minute in hell, to the point where death would be a mercy. When he wasn’t subjected to physical torture under their hands, his memories haunted him and trapped him in an endless spiral of despair, guilt and pain. Everytime he closed his eyes, his loved one’s suffering replayed again and again and just like back then, he could only watch as it happened before him.

He didn’t know exactly how much time he spent in a limbo between life and death but he held on with his sheer will. Everytime he fell to the verge of death, the screams of his wife shook him awake. He needed to exact his revenge. For them. He couldn’t die when those murderers, those scum, still walked free with no ounce of regret.

---

His days blended into each other. He didn’t know when exactly the necklace appeared or how it got there but, during the hours of physical torture, it seemed to pulse against his skin as if alive.

Even in his extremely weakened state, Xavier could sense a shift in his torturer’s attitude towards him until one day, he was hauled up and dragged out. Ears ringing, he could barely make out the words of the jailers and guards around him. It was only when he was suddenly dragged into sunlight and blinded dizzy that he could make out the words from the cheers of what sounded to be a deafening crowd of onlookers.

‘Kill the tyrant!’

‘Bastard!’

‘Son of a bitch!’

With clarity, he understood that they had grown tired of him and he was to be executed. Desperation and rage kicked in and he fought back but the guards had anticipated it. They quickly dragged him to kneel on an elevated platform. No matter how hard he struggled, the guards were still able to push him to the ground. A hush fell through the ranks of the fervent crowd as the barely audible ‘shing’ of a blade sounded. In those final moments, all he could hear inside his head was his own muffled screams. The second the blade plunged into his body from behind, his whole body stiffened with his face still contorted in a silent scream. Just as his vision was clouded completely with red, a guttural voice seemed to whisper into his ear.

[Let’s make a deal.]

•·················•·················•

The child rested her head on her knees and in her arms, she was hugging a tattered old book. She shivered from the cold, it was winter. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t let herself, knowing that if she did, they would freeze into icy crystals down her face. She had come this far; there was no way she was breaking down now.

She lifted her tired body and stood herself up on weak legs, so thin to the point that they looked as if they’d snap under her own weight any second. Yet still, she stood up. Her stomach hurt, groaning at her that it wanted food, it needed food. But she had nothing to offer to her violently growling stomach.

She had gone a few days without food, and she knew that another day was not an option. She placed the book where she normally did, on top of the stash of big dirty boxes she called her home.

She had been born in a poor family. Her sick mother could barely scrape together a living after her father had mysteriously disappeared. She didn’t even know if he was dead or had just simply left them to look for a better life. Either way, he was a cowardly bastard in her heart.

Not long after her mother’s death, her younger siblings died too. Some starved to death when she wasn’t able to get them food in time.The others had caught the same disease their mother had. Soon enough, she found herself alone in the cruel world she had been living in. At the age of six, all she had been left with was her torn clothes and an old book. Somehow, she had survived for four more years.

Of course, everyday was a fierce battle with death. She struggled tirelessly to never let life slip past her. She did anything and everything she knew how to keep herself alive. At least she liked to think she did.

She emerged from the dark alley, her thin figure blended well in the night. It was the best time for her to hunt. Although more dangerous, she preferred to pickpocket at night in the red-light districts, to steal from those with the riches to spare on indulging in their pleasures. Her oversized outfit,and short messy hair that fell to obscure her eyes in shadows, made her seem like any other errand boy.

Although nobody took pity on the children in the slums and most times, the majority didn’t even bother looking their way, Arabelle still preferred not to steal from those who were trying to make a living in the slums through honest means. The red-light district provided perfect victims: plenty high off pleasure, drunk off wine and distracted by the numerous beauties.

Arabelle was smart; she took this to her advantage. It was easy to slip between the bustling crowds of sweaty men and voluptuous women to nick their jewels and money. She wasn’t proud of her lifestyle but it kept her alive and out of the brothels.

That night, the streets were almost deserted. A few patrons hurried inside to the brothels to escape the biting cold. Her gut sank further into her stomach as she surveyed the almost empty streets until she spotted a lone man, stumbling left and right down the street.

With a light cough to prepare her voice, she beelined her way over to him and announced her presence in her lowest possible voice, “Sir? Sir. Are you Agustus? I’ve a message for you.”

He only squinted up in confusion before stumbling over his own feet again.

“Sir? Do you need help? Let me walk you over there so I can give you your letter,” without a pause, she reached to support him into a nearby alley.

To her delight, he put up no resistance, and followed her guide, albeit while slurring incoherently. One of her hands reached into his side pocket to feel for money, only to find air. She guided him to the alley and tried her best to lean him against the wall, all the while attempting to search his other pockets.

However, as soon as her hand made contact with whatever was in his pocket, his hand shot out at lightning speed and seized her wandering hands into his own. Startled, her eyes met his clear eyes and panicked, knowing full well she’d been caught. He straightened to his full height and a disgusting glint crept into his eyes and he broke out in a crude laugh that bared his rotting teeth.

“You dare try to rob me, little boy,” he snarled while she jerked back in an attempt to break free.

In the heat of panic, she kicked his kneecaps and broke free. He hunched over in pain for a moment but, she wasn’t able to do much more as he straightened up again. She had fucked up. Whirling around, she sprinted out as fast as she could. She heard him shout commands of reinforcement from close behind her.

They closed in on her. Her body didn’t have the stamina to elude them and they knocked her down easily. She fell heavily, the wind knocked out of her and in a flurry, they were onto her. Their steps were bold, strong. She knew what was coming. A big hand grabbed her long matted hair, she clawed at him. Bit, kicked. But they didn’t let up. A kick to her stomach and a fishy taste in her mouth; she could feel herself slipping into darkness.

Blood. She spit into their faces and attempted to glare at them but it did nothing to deter their hits, kicks and punches. Over the sound of the hits, their unruly laughter sounded in her ears, mocking her and hurt much more than the bruising on her skin and her organs which felt like they were on fire. Her broken ribcage struggled with its last breaths. Her swollen eyes tunneled and focused onto the corner. There sat the book she had left earlier. Somehow, she had unconsciously ran for her home when she was chased.

If only. She thought. If only she had her luck. If only her life was like hers. But she didn’t, she hadn’t. She wouldn’t be saved. She would be left to die before she was saved, had a new family. She wasn’t the protagonist of a pretty story.

She could feel herself bleeding out beneath the feet of the crowd of men. When her strained heart almost stopped beating, she heard it. A guttural voice that seemed to transmit from from deep inside the book whispered into her ear, almost like a gentle caress.

[Let’s make a deal.]

•·················•·················•

“Hah-” Vivian sighed, her hands holding the game she had just bought. Why she got it, she didn’t know. She had felt a strong urge to buy it after seeing the cover. The art was so beautiful she couldn’t resist but funnily enough, it had one crappy title.

“Finding Love in the Magic Academy.”

Although she was not a teenager anymore, she loved playing games and reading from time to time. She was a compulsive buyer, every time she saw a pretty cover she had this urge to go inside the store and buy it. It didn’t matter to her what the genre was or if it had bad reviews.

She hurriedly put the game in her purse when she saw the hour. Urgh. Late for work, again. She cursed herself, having been distracted by the cover of a game again. Despite her rushing, the sight of the bus’ doors closing was what greeted her when she finally arrived at the bus stop. It was not the first time she would be left behind to sprint after the bus’s exhaust gas and yelling with all her strength for it to stop.

In fact, it had happened so many times the driver would wait five more minutes for her. But this time, she was way too late. Damnit! How could she have been so distracted to not even notice the hour? This game cover, in particular, was so mesmerizing that she could almost be absorbed into it.

“Wait a second!” She yelled, no longer having the time to curse herself. The people living on this street had become accustomed to her antics. In fact, some of them would always tell her she’d be late if she waited another second.

The bus didn’t stop this time. She had no car, and the next bus wouldn’t be here until an hour later. She was always on time to work despite her late tendencies and surprisingly, she had also never missed a day. She loved her job too much to do that.

But this time, seeing as she would be late either way, she decided to head back home. What harm would it bring… to call in sick? She just wanted to play her newly bought game. And today was Friday.

She smiled broadly as she searched her purse for her phone. Her steps seemed to be lighter and she almost skipped her way back home.

☆‪☆‪☆‪

Vivian ran up the stairs, her impatience not letting her wait for the elevator. As soon as she arrived in front of the door she slammed it open, gasping for breath.

“Are you late for work again Vivi?” Her mother, who had been visiting, asked her.

She smiled broadly, “No! Today… I was given the day!” Her mother looked at her, eyebrows raised. A disapproving expression plastered on her face. She knew her daughter better than anyone else.

Vivian gave her an innocent look, she rummaged her purse and took out her new game.

“It’s my first time asking for a day off…”

“Yes, and you asked for it… to play? They won’t give you any more days off if you use them for this.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt me or them,” she retorted cheekily. With that and a charming smile flashed her mother’s way, Vivi hurried to her room.

Her mother’s disapproving shake of the head wasn’t seen by the girl who had long dived into the comforts of her bed. She had grabbed her game controller and placed the game disc into the console on the way in and was already booting up the game.

Her love for otome games stemmed from her love of romance. To her, these visual games were like reading a romance novel except, in a way more interactive fashion. And they were her escape from the stresses of life.

She opened a new tab on her phone, “Asher’s route cheats.” She had long decided what her first route would be in the store. She was the type that liked to play through the easiest route first before challenging herself with the harder routes. After creating an account in the game, she spent hours reading the spoilers of the game. Each word she read made her even more excited.

And when she was finally ready to play, her head started aching. It was one of those migraines, deeply rooted in the brain. She couldn’t tell its source.

She felt sleepy, her heavy eyelids started closing at the time she had started the game.

“Vivi! I’m going now! Your sister came to see you, come say hi!” Her mother’s voice sounded distant. Her consciousness seemed to drift away from her body.

“Vivi dea- Vivi?! What happened!! Dear God! Help, help! Someone help!” Her mother’s desperate cry was the last thing she heard before her eyes unwittingly closed.

A guttural whisper echoed distantly in her mind.

[Let’s make a deal.]