Love Unfortunate by Claudia D. Christian

LOVE UNFORTUNATE
    A single tear snaked down her cheek. The pale-faced woman brushed it away listlessly. Nightmares became spikes designed to tear into her paper-thin flesh. Memories, ancient and new, melded into a macabre dream book. The ink crimson, the text reprehensible, it told part of a perverse tale.
    * * * *
    Soft, chubby fingers clutched at the rotting counterpane. The little pixie-faced girl climbed onto the enormous bed, one that had witnessed her conception, birth, and now life. Careful not to touch the lush hills and valley hiding beneath velvet and down, she gazed at the exquisite summit.
    "So pretty." The innocent words disturbed the motes swirling about like dispossessed souls. "So very pretty." Rapturous euphoria made the child’s mind buzz. Falling into temptation, she reached out to touch a softly rounded breast.
    She immediately snatched her hand away with a whimper. She scooted back, nearly to the edge. Stuffing raw fingers into her mouth, the little girl suckled them much as she wished she could her mother’s breast.
    The woman lying there now burned with coldness. Although smooth, every facet of her perfect countenance promised retribution for daring to touch where unwanted.
    "I’m sorry," the girl whispered.
    "It’s not enough."
    A voice droned in her tiny ears. She gasped and her gaze darted fearfully. She slid off the bed, tearing several silken threads in her haste.
    "You’ll pay."
    "Mother?"
    "No, I’m not your mother."
    Immediately, she sought the comfort of her sleeping sibling. Wrapping her arms around his thin chest, she buried her head beneath his pointed chin.
    "I am you. You are me. We destroy the sons of God. We shred them apart—make them do our will. We defile the pure, annihilate the weak."
    "I don’t want to," the poor creature moaned.
    "But you will, Liana. You will."
    "Yes, little bird. You will rip out my heart and devour it slowly."
    She looked up from her huddled position. A beautiful man crouched a few feet away. "Who are you?"
    Silver flame reflected a woman’s perfection. "Your sin."
    "Who is looking out at me?"
    "You."
    The little girl touched her face and found it to feel just like her mother’s. Wonder had no time to develop for suddenly her arms lay empty. "My brother! He’s gone!"
    "Of course he is," the handsome stranger replied in detached amusement. "And I am here. I have something for you, little bird." Without another word, he reached into his pale chest.
    Her shrill screams haunted the room as the man pulled out a disgusting mass of veins, muscle, and flesh. "Here," he offered with a pained smile. "Taste my suffering."
    * * * *
    She rubbed her eyes, weary of fighting the cords threatening to tie her down into misery.
    "It always comes to me on this day. Always."
    Dreams and memories meant nothing and everything to Liana. They spoke to her in strangled whispers. They marked a seductive madness running swiftly through her veins.
    Soon Liana would talk to her dream and this time she would make the ending different.
    An hour. Maybe less. Maybe more.
    The broken thoughts forced her gaze to slide to the barred door. Rigid lines of wood and iron mocked her.
    How long has it been? How long have I been locked in this room?
    Her question meant nothing. Liana already knew the answer because it was always the same.
    Twenty days.
    Memories of the world beyond her cage disintegrated.
    "Taste my suffering."
    More tears seeped into Liana’s dark hairline. A few slid across her chin, splattering onto the sheets. The noise assaulted her ears. She imagined her tears sounded like dripping blood.
    Liana shifted. A grimace tightened her colorless mouth. Although ebony sheets of the softest linen lay across Liana’s naked limbs, they felt like sand. She brought her knees up and winced as pain burned between her thighs.
    Scattered all over her body, several fresh scrapes overlapped old ones. Deep punctures wounded Liana’s breasts, thighs, and arms. Their horrible presence