The room was silent, save for the sound of ropes creaking.
Noemie hung from the ceiling by her wrists, arms stretched until her shoulders ached in their sockets. Her legs dangled, toes barely brushing the concrete floor. She was crying—silent at first, then in choked sobs that made her body tremble with each breath. Sweat mixed with tears streamed down her face, matting her hair against her cheeks. She had stopped begging. There was no use.
Across from her, Matteo stood with a tilted head, eyes scanning her bruised frame as if it were a painting that fascinated and disgusted him in equal measure. Then, without warning, he laughed. It wasn't the laugh of someone amused....it was jagged, broken, a twisted thing that curled into the shadows of the room. It startled even the walls.
Eliane froze. Her hands trembled at her sides. Annelise clutched her stomach, as if the sound physically hurt her. Their eyes filled with horror. Tears spilled freely as they watched Noemie, as they watched Matteo.
Annelise stepped forward, knees buckling as she dropped to them before Matteo.
"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please, let her down... She's had enough."
Eliane followed, kneeling beside her, unable to meet his eyes. "We'll do anything. Just stop this. Don't make her suffer more."
But Matteo's smile only widened.
"Anything?" he echoed, voice soft as silk, as dangerous as a knife.
They nodded.
Matteo reached out and grabbed a fistful of Annelise's hair, yanking her up with a jerk that made her scream. He shoved something into her hand....a thin, flexible stick, long enough to cut but small enough to not leave permanent marks. Another one was handed to Eliane.
"Show me," Matteo said, collapsing into a velvet chair with a sigh of satisfaction. He poured himself a glass of deep red wine, swirling it absently. "Show me how much you want to save her. Hit her. Until I say stop."
Both girls stared at the sticks as if they were venomous.
Annelise shook her head slowly, backing away. Eliane whispered a prayer under her breath.
"You think this is a choice?" Matteo murmured. His voice sharpened. "Annelise, how do you think your parents would react if they found out about your scandal? Professor, shall I describe the way your mother would look at you if she found your dark secrets?"
Both froze.
He leaned back. "I wonder who'd cry more. Them.....… or you?"
The room was dead still for a moment. Then, reluctantly, Annelise stepped forward. Her hand trembled as she raised the stick, tears blurring her vision.
The first strike was soft. It barely touched Noemie's skin.
Matteo raised an eyebrow.
Eliane followed, her strike no harder than Annelise's. They were crying as much as Noemie now, lips quivering, unable to look her in the eyes.
Noemie flinched with each touch, though she didn't make a sound. Not yet.
Displeased, Matteo rose without a word, grabbed the stick from Annelise's hand, and struck her across the thigh with a crack. She screamed, collapsing to the ground, her leg twitching in pain.
"Pathetic," he spat.
He turned to Eliane, yanked her hair so hard she staggered to one knee. He bent close, his breath warm and reeking of wine.
"You're next."
His eyes were predatory....dilated, feverish, gleaming.
Eliane stumbled to her feet and raised her stick again.
This time, it landed harder. A red line bloomed across Noemie's back. The sound it made....skin breaking under pressure—made Eliane gag.
Then another. Then another.
Annelise, shaking, joined in.
The rhythm grew. Slap. Whimper. Slap. Cry. Slap. Scream.
Noemie's body writhed against the ropes. Her back was a painting of pain.....pink, then red, then dark bruises blooming like bruised roses. She was in her undergarments, her bare skin an open canvas of violence. Her breathing became erratic, labored. Her head drooped, hair falling like a curtain over her face. The strands clung to her cheeks, sticky with tears and sweat.
The room began to smell....coppery blood, salt, something else. The kind of scent that made the stomach churn, that lingered in clothes long after the act was done.
Matteo sat back down and raised his glass in a mock toast. He took a sip, legs crossed, utterly relaxed.
He was enjoying it.
Noemie screamed again.....this time, louder. It tore from her throat like an animal being skinned. Her voice cracked mid-wail, but it didn't stop her from crying out again.
Eliane dropped her stick. Her hands were soaked in sweat. She fell to her knees, sobbing. "Please, Matteo. Please, stop this...…"
But he didn't even look at her.
He kept watching Noemie. Watching the way her muscles twitched, how her back shook with every hit. How her perfect skin was ruined....marked, punished, transformed.
The sound of breaking wings.
The sound of something fragile being destroyed.
And still, he smiled.