The Price Of His Twisted Love

a Quin

row furrowed in concentration. The cool antiseptic felt alien against the cold metal. "There," she said, finally capping the tiny bottle. "Good as n

se. And a lifetime supply of wha

paid for that last ballet commercial. So, dinner is o

schievous glint vanished, replaced by a storm cloud. "Elenora," she said, her voice low

e in my shoulder. "It doesn't matter what t

g these." She gestured pointedly at my prosthetics. "He's the reason your

Kailey." My voice was flat. "But I have to live. And dancing... dancing

at what cost, Elenora? You dance until you collapse. You push y

life, Kailey. It's what got me through the darkest times. It's the

agged sigh. She knew. She understood the depth of

mber the way he looked at you, Elenora. Like you were the sun, the moon, and all

one would have. No

over me. "He saved my life, Kailey," I murmur

ulled unwillingly into

l of stale cigarettes. I landed in a dark, damp cellar, my small body trembling with fear. There were ot

an with a cruel laugh dragged me out, yelling about my "attitude." He held a rusty knife, its bl

himself in front of me. He was Greyson. He cried out as the blade bit into his a

ess the horror. Then I screamed, a guttural sou

e pain, held a strange kind of fierce protectiveness. "Don't cry,"

a roadmap of his sacrifice, a permanent reminder of the boy who had chosen me. I would kiss it, murmuring apologies,

r. My savior. My f

like a lie, a cruel joke

ugh the fog of my memories. "Elen

, too bright. I noticed a few men, their gazes lingering on my legs, then on my face, a

d handed me earlier and drained it in on

tasting bitter. "My father said it too, right before our wedding. H

a joke. His 'love' was just another weapon, wasn

e that had shattered my reputation, flas

the conviction cold and solid in