Maybe...

"Death was the kind of happy ending she craved."

—Chubi.

Leticia.

She stirred on the bed, a moan escaping her bloodied and bruised lips as her stitched skin came in contact with the cold metal chains. She gritted her teeth in a bid to endure it as she had no strength left to shout. That would only increase the raw sensation.

After passing out from all the lashing and thinking she would die, she was once again awoken to a piercing feeling. Then she discovered she was strapped to a surface with her front region while her back was being stitched—and she felt the piercing needle in her skin.

Trashing would have done her no good, neither would shouting. So she bore the pain by biting her lips and gritting her teeth. By the time she opened her eyes again, she was still strapped to the bed and nobody else was there.

There was a level of pain at which a human being would die, and if she was not mistaken she had felt that sort and probably beyond; the pain of fire from the melting of her skin, the pain of slow bleeding and even being injured on a past and unhealed injury. But why exactly had she not given up yet?

"Ah!" She groaned as she felt a freezing sensation at her back. She lifted her throbbing head and saw one of his minions; the one who always cleaned her up after they were done messing with her.

A feeling of hatred bloomed in her chest, but what to do? She could not break free from the chains.

"Who are you?" She asked in a scratchy whisper. "Why do you always do this?" He did not reply but kept on his work of applying ice block to her wounds.

"Who are you!" She yelled this time, managing to kick him with her foot. He stumbled backwards but did not fall. However, contrary to how she would expect his minion to act, the man bowed his head a little, apologising.

"I-I'm sorry miss."

Was he making a mockery of her at the moment? Had she attained that much a level of miserability? A short burst of laugh made its way out of her throat.

Leticia could understand the fact that she had always been unfortunate but never had she imagined that it would get to this extent. To the point that she was told to eat her own vomit. Like a dog. In fact, a stray dog would be much less pathetic than she had become.

From laughter, she began to choke, then she found herself throwing up again. What was the use? Only a watery substance came out as she could not remember the last time she ate neither could she remember how long she had been there.

The minion released the chains, giving one last bow then he scurried out of the room. Not up to a minute later, Gingerhead walked into the room.

"Damn! Those gashes are not nice looking at all," he said, settling himself on the bed beside her. The only thing the bastard wanted was her body. Whenever he came to meet her alone, he would touch her. Disgust? That was too weak a word to describe how she felt.

"Despicable bastard!" She said in a harsh whisper.

"What? What did you say?" He asked, the sides of his lips gradually pulling down.

"I called you a despicable bastard," she repeated. He would beat her; that was certain. Anyway, she wanted that beating. If she kept provoking them and they kept beating her, death would come—maybe even faster than she expected. Luckily for her, her cards were spread as she knew their buttons and how to push them, and she would play her cards well.

And he did beat her. With his belt, slamming her against the ground, he broke a chair on her ribs. That hurt like crazy. He did not stop there, but he continued until she was coughing blood. Now, that was more like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening her throbbing lips to let air into her lungs was a battle. Every breath felt like torture. Her ribs hurt, her whole body hurt.

With a shaky sigh, she dropped to the floor, refusing to let her tears flow as it would just increase her pain. She was still not dead!

On a scale of one to ten, the pain she was feeling could be up to number seven. She just wanted to die. What was the point of living anyway? Nobody cared, nobody wanted her.

She groaned as she sucked in a heavy breath, clutching her bleeding forehead with her fingers; a result of Gingerhead's beating. The stench of the place was repulsive as a result of the red liquid seeping from her head, dripping down the sides of her face, trailing a path from her eyebrows to her eyelids to her cheekbone.

A low chuckle escaped her lips, her ribs hurting more as her body shook with the sounds.

"I should just die. I can't do this anymore," she muttered.

Her swollen eyes wandered across the darkroom, searching for something to ease the process. It was just too slow. Why the suspense? Anyways, she could fasten the process.

But there was nothing to aid it. An empty room with an empty girl. How much more useless could she get? She couldn't even find something to kill herself.

How pathetic.

Another round of chuckles again. She turned on her back, wincing as the liquid oozed out the more. Some of the stitches were loosened already, causing another round of bleeding. A thought occurred to her as she recalled Hannah's death. What if he planned to let her bleed to death as he did to Hannah? That would be very refreshing.

The edges of her lips pulled up into a wry smile. How didn't she figure it out before? Of course, he would let her die. After all, she was of no use any longer.

They couldn't rape her anymore—for reasons best known to him, she was too bruised to be battered further and her time had already elapsed. A relieved sigh pushed past her lips. The pain would finally come to an end.

Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about causing pain to her non-existent loved ones. She had a nonchalant husband, a mother who hated her very existence, a brother who couldn't care less, and a dead father. She could die in peace without worrying about anyone.

How satisfying. Quite unfortunate that she wouldn't meet her father because she sure was going to hell. She'd cursed God enough to know that already. By the way, did he even exist?

Her reflections were halted by the creaking sound produced by the door.

What exactly did they want again? To torture her further? Weren't they bored already?

It didn't matter anyway. She would still die in the end. Death was her greatest solace at that point.

"How are you doing today, my dear?"

That reviling voice again.

Too tired to speak, she opened her eyes only to see herself staring directly at his face. He gave a sweet smile and stood up from his squatting position.

"Raise her," he ordered.

His minions carried out the command. Grabbing her by the biceps, they dumped her on the tattered armchair. She groaned as her body hit the naked wood.

"Wha-what do you want from me again?"

"Oh, don't place so much importance on yourself. I just want to have some fun." Came his cheery reply.

Scoffing, she lifted her throbbing head to stare at his face.

"I thought you'd had enough fun. Aren't you tired?"

"Tired? Hmm... I don't know why..." Rubbing his stubble with his thumb and index finger, he shook his head. "But I can't seem to get tired of you."

Leaning forward until his face was very close to hers, his stretched lips strengthened back.

"Perhaps... It's because you touched the tail of the tiger?"

She stared him in the eye, not bothering to drop her gaze. She had nothing to lose.

"Tell me something. Why exactly are you doing this?"

"Just because." He shrugged and returned to his earlier sitting position. "You should be asking me why I'm back."

"I already did."

"Touché," he replied with a chuckle. "I've got good news for you."

"Well then, tell me. I don't think anything good can come from you though." Huffing, she dropped her gaze back to her fingers that we're fiddling with each other.

"You're pregnant."

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and her mind went blank; a state of nothingness.

"You're pregnant."

"Pregnant."

"Pregnant."

The words kept echoing in her head like a broken record. He was joking, right? It was just one of his stupid pranks.

"That look on your face. You must think I'm joking. Fortunately, I'm not."

She whipped up her head to face him. "You... You're joking right?"

"I'm not. You're carrying a baby!" He exclaimed, displaying his full dentition. "That's great news don't you think?"

No.

No!

This couldn't be happening.

Her heart kept lurching in her chest, her breath coming out in short gasps, faster, harder.

The walls were moving closer and closer, the temperature build-up multiplying the sweat on her forehead. She wiped her clammy palms on her dress over and over again.

Pregnant for who? How? This was Angel, the devil himself; and the devil is the father of all lies. He was lying. It was just a stupid lie.

"Leticia... There's no need to panic. I've hurt people very much. Maimed a few, tortured a number of them. But I've never, and will never hurt a baby." His sinister smile made her skin crawl.

"Just kill me. Kill me! Kill me and the child!" She screamed.

A child with the blood of these disgusting men flowing in his or her veins? She would rather die with the child. She did not even know who had the child. Angel and his men had taken turns on her so many times she couldn't count.

Asides from that, who knew what they could do to the innocent child? No matter how much she hated the idea of having a child for them, she couldn't shake off the fact that he or she was innocent.

What exactly did she do that God was punishing her in such a cruel manner?

"But I don't plan to." His smile disappeared again, revealing that crazed look in his blue eyes.

Her grip on the wood of the chair became so strong that it gave way beneath her arm. The termite-infested piece of wood dropped to the floor with a loud noise.

As she stared at the piece of wood that fell out, a thought hit her. With a weak smile, she grabbed the wood and flung it at him with the little strength she had.

It met his nose bridge.

She laughed, the sound getting more high pitched by the second.

He covered his nose with his hand, taking his fingers back to his line of sight to inspect the blood on it. After staring at it for a while, he took the finger close to his lips and licked the blood. He carried out the action two more times.

Sickening psychopath.

The third time he did it, he lifted his gaze in a calculated manner to meet hers, and at that point, when she saw his eyes brewing a storm, she knew that there was no going back. Well, good riddance.

However, contrary to her expectations, he refused to put her through any punishment. It seemed like he had already figured out her plans.

Shutting his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled, then went back to giving her that nauseating smile.

The feeling of rage bloomed in her chest once again, transforming into a burning sensation.

Angel rose from the chair still maintaining eye contact with her. He motioned to his minions and they lined up beside him. Almost at once, they rushed at him with tissues but he halted their movement, taking a piece and wiping his bleeding nose himself.

"Step forward, Mahmoud," he said.

The man who attended to her earlier did as he was told with his sombre expression still intact.

"Take care of her. She has a life growing inside of her so handle her with extreme care."

Shifting his gaze, he turned and strode out of the room, the rest marching after him. She screamed, picking up the broken piece of wood as she threw it after the man, but he was far from her already.

The minion grabbed her hand as she was about to throw another one, restricting her movement. She tried to shove off his hands but he was way too strong for that.

He managed to drag her to her room amid her screams, mainly because she had no strength to thrash around. On getting to the room, he sat her on the bed and tied her hands to the bed stand.

What did he plan on doing? Was this what take care of her meant?

"Please calm down," he said.

A chuckle escaped her dry lips. "Calm down? Calm... Calm down?" She kept repeating the words as though she had just heard a strange language.

At that moment, the realisation completely dawned on her; she was not getting out of Angel's trap whether dead or alive. He had figured out her game. He would not let her die so easily, neither would he let her live. For that reason, she had to. She couldn't just give up like that.

"Please help me," she made the first plea, clutching the man's arm as tears started to flow. "Help me, please. I don't want to be here, save me please..." She pleaded, bursting into sobs.

"You can even kill me. Yes, kill me. I would appreciate that; any...thing to kill me! Tell him it was an m-mistake or that I killed myself." 

The man held her hand once again, tugging them off his and settling on the floor.

"Calm down and listen to me," he said.

"Calm down? You keep telling me to calm down but come to think of it; if you were me would you be able to calm down? I mean, you people are humans, right? How come you don't have an iota of pity? Would you like to be in my place? Why do you derive pleasure from hurting people so badly?" It was her anger that was speaking this time but she didn't regret it. At least she should get the weight off her chest before dying.

He said nothing this time, just gazing at her with an expression she could not decipher. There was no emotion written on his face but his eyes told a different story.

"It's not like I enjoy doing this," he said after a while of staring at her then stood up, dusting his trouser. "I should call the chefs for your meal, and it's time to wash up. Please comply."

That being said, he turned to walk out.

A scoff escaped her lips. "You know... For some time, I thought you were different, but you're just the same as them; evil, callous, psychopaths with no human heart. For heaven's sake, I'm carrying a baby according to you people. Yet, I can't be excused from this madness?"

He halted his step at the door as he heard the statement.

"Can you handle escaping? Would you mind if you don't survive it?" He asked in a low tone without looking back or moving forward.

"Yes! Yes, I will. Anything to get out of here. I don't care whether or not I make it out alive, provided I'm out... Please?" She said, a tear drop rolling down her cheeks once more.

"Get ready then."

"Will you really help me?"

"Maybe." And he walked away.

Maybe.

Maybe.

A positive or negative one? Would she finally get her happy ending? She would find out soon enough.

Hello people!
Now let's talk; do you think Angel was being serious about the pregnancy? Do you think the minion would help her?

Do let me know your thoughts, pweety please🥺 Thank you!

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This chapter is dedicated to D_Huney for motivating me and asking when I'll drop an update. For never slacking in the memes supply too😂. I greet you comrade🤸‍♂️❤