Patient B-2

Chapter Fourteen: Cierien

The sudden slam of the door startles me, causing me to jump up from the couch, Sophie mirroring my reaction. As Wrath strolls in with his customary stoic and cold demeanor, a wave of apprehension washes over me. Without hesitation, I press him for answers. "What did you find?"

When Wrath initially declared his intention to attend the party solo, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of dissatisfaction. Unlike Sophie, I didn't press the issue, knowing full well that attempting to persuade him would be futile. It wasn't as though I felt a pressing need to be present at the event, but I couldn't shake the nagging curiosity gnawing at me. I yearned to grasp the full scope of what was transpiring, to gain insight into the enigmatic machinations unfolding around us.

"Unfortunately, nothing that pinpoints Idalia's whereabouts, but I think I know what those auctions entail," Wrath grumbles, swiftly shedding his suit and loosening his tie.

Sophie and I sink back onto the couch, observing as Wrath's typically composed demeanor falters, replaced by palpable frustration. He runs a hand wearily over his face, a gesture betraying the weight of his discoveries. "It's not just torturous experiments, Cier. And to think it could get any worse," he chuckles, though the sound is devoid of any genuine amusement- only a profound sense of sorrow lingers in its wake.

His next words come out utterly defeated. "They're being trafficked."

"What?" Sophie nearly chokes out, a breath catching in her throat, her eyes widening with disbelief.

It doesn't take me long to connect the dots, and I despise the unsettling realization that I'm not sharing Sophie's disbelief. Recollections of the Adairs mentioning vampire bites used to induce pleasure flash through my mind. Never did I imagine such abhorrent practices could still exist, yet with auctions cropping up in Idalia's schedule and the haunted look in Wrath's eyes, the grim truth becomes undeniable. "The auctions are for people? For vampires?" I force the question, though I already know the answer, seeking confirmation in the face of the horrifying reality.

He tightens his lips into a thin line, responding with a curt nod to confirm my suspicions. "What did you see?" I press, hoping for further clarification.

"I'd rather not speak of it, Cier," he replies tersely, and while his tone is blunt, I understand that he's not trying to be dismissive. The weight of what he witnessed is evident in his demeanor, something too harrowing to put into words.

As Wrath remains tight-lipped about the horrors he witnessed, I'm filled with a mixture of relief and dread. Though part of me yearns for details, another part is grateful for his silence. I know all too well the depths of depravity that exist in this world, and I shudder to think of the atrocities that occur behind closed doors.

I'm acutely aware of Sophie's delicate constitution, and I'm thankful that Wrath spared her from witnessing such horrors firsthand. But even for myself, with my own past traumas of sexual abuse haunting my psyche, the mere knowledge of these events is enough to churn my stomach. I can't afford to be consumed by the darkness, to allow those memories to resurface and overwhelm me.

As I grapple with the unsettling revelation of Idalia's potential involvement in such heinous events, I'm struck by a profound sense of confusion. The woman I knew during our time together was a carefully crafted facade, a version of herself she deemed fit for my eyes alone. I realize now that I never truly glimpsed the depths of her character, only the persona she chose to project.

Despite the manipulation and deception, I can't shake the memories of the kindness she showed me, however fabricated they may have been. In the aftermath of Margaret's betrayal, Idalia played a pivotal role in helping me heal, offering a semblance of comfort and support. Her feigned kindness provided solace in my darkest moments, and I clung to the belief that perhaps she, too, bore her own scars of trauma.