“Don’t say her name,” I said, panting and sat up. “Don’t you ever say her name.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Mira. Mira, the whore... just like you, except you weren’t really a whore, were you?” He smirked. “When my nephew, Ivan, first told me about you, I thought you were just another faceless baby machine who would disappear inside these walls and do something productive for the institute... I had no idea who you really were. Then I realized who you were, and I knew... Ivan had good taste.”
“What are you talking about?” I muttered, swaying on the floor. Fuck, I was dizzy.
“Nothing.” Vargas sighed. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”
He stood and strolled over to me. I fought a flinch. I wouldn’t flinch from this man. His rosary clinked softly when he crouched before me.
“You know, you are so much more lovely than anyone else in here. You tempt a man to sin, Katarina, and I’m tired of being a saint around you.”
The snort left me before I could stop it. “Saint? I’ve never met such a foul-hearted, filthy sinner in my life,” I said venomously.
“Are you referring to your friend Mira? Everyone should be useful to the institute. Her heart paid for the new carpet in my office, and her eyes paid for that TV.”
I lunged at him, but he was ready. He stepped back, and I fell flat. It had been a pathetic attempt, but I had to do something. He laughed and pulled his foot back, then let it fly at my abdomen, kicking me hard once, then twice. My ribs groaned, the musclesaround them taking the hit, bruising and tearing. I felt like I could hear the sound, but Vargas’s laughter had drowned everything out. It had to be my imagination.
He kicked me until I was quiet. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the carpet and fought for breath.
Vargas crouched over me again.
“I’m sick and tired of not being able to touch you, Katarina, not for discipline or anything else. But, you see, Benedict believes we’ve finally found the cocktail that’ll keep you and whatever other whores come through here quiet. No voice, no memories... and soon enough, no mind. The only downside is that it triggers psychosis in some people... but it’s a small price to pay. So now, no one has to know what happens to you, off-limits or not, because soon there won’t be any of you left. You should thank Benedict. I was favoring lobotomy before he hit upon the ideal cocktail of drugs.”
“The baby—” I said.
“What?”
“I just want to know what happened to Mira’s baby,” I pleaded.
Vargas sank back, perplexed. “You don’t know? I thought you saw everything... sneaking around and spying.”
“What happened to the baby? Please, I just want to know.”
Why I was begging this man I had no idea. He had no mercy, no humanity at all. But Mira had cared about her child, and the least I could do was find out what they’d done with the baby.
Vargas considered my words and then sighed. “It died. Stillborn. That’s what the death certificate says.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not right. I heard it crying.”
Vargas sighed. “Did the psychosis really start already?”
“It wasn’t dead,” I repeated on a wheeze, growing hysterical at the thought.
“Prove it,” Vargas goaded, and smirked at me with a look that told me he was lying.
God, I wanted to kill this man more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. More than I wanted to escape Hallow Hall, I wanted to kill this man. I wanted to bathe in his blood, and Pavol’s, and Benedict’s, too. I wanted to stick their heads on spikes around the gates of this place as a warning.
Vargas laughed at my expression. Why wouldn’t he? I was weak and powerless. I couldn’t do anything except imagine their gruesome deaths. I was never going to get my justice. A tear fell from my eye and plopped onto the carpet.
He moved his foot closer to me, aiming for my hand, and stomped his heel down, grinding it hard.
“Come on and scream for me, Katarina.”
I bit my lip, holding the sound inside, determined not to give him the satisfaction. I felt the scream building, though, higher and higher, undeniable.
Then, shattering my concentration, a loud knock sounded at the door.
“Christ,” Vargas muttered, and stood.