Lost My Savior, Found His Pain

For years, I believed my unique blood was a gift to save the man I loved.

Now, he saw it as a poison.

At the urging of his venomous new lover, Kim, he believed I was a family enemy trying to destroy him.

He subjected me to endless torture, draining my life force to treat Kim' s fake pregnancy. Each extraction, which he saw as me faking my pain, was actually pushing my body toward total collapse.

I endured it all for one reason: to protect my innocent brother, Benny. But how could the man whose life I'd secretly preserved be so blind to the truth?

When they captured Benny and threatened his life, I offered my final sacrifice. I gave Cliffton my entire remaining life force, dissolving into light before his very eyes.

And in that instant, as his cured parents appeared to reveal every lie, he finally understood: he had just murdered his own salvation.

Chapter 1

For years, I believed my unique blood was a gift, a secret key to saving the man I loved. Now, Cliffton Faulkner, the man whose life I' d secretly preserved, dragged me through his estate, believing my every touch was a poison.

The slap was brutal. It woke me like a thunderclap. My head whipped to the side, my cheek burning. Dizziness swam behind my eyes, blurring the edges of the opulent room.

"Get up, you wretched creature!" A harsh, guttural voice, belonging to one of Cliffton's monstrous guards, sliced through the haze.

My body screamed. It was a dull, constant ache, a familiar companion these days. I tried to push myself up, but my limbs felt like lead. They were heavy, unresponsive.

A rough hand clamped around my arm. Calloused fingers dug into my flesh. Pain shot up to my shoulder. Not a sharp, piercing pain, but a deep, throbbing bruise that spread through my bones.

I gasped. My breath caught in my throat.

The guard yanked, ignoring my struggle. My body scraped against the cold, marble floor. The marble was slick, reflecting the dim hallway lights. It smelled of antiseptic and old money, a bitter mix.

"Move it! She needs you!" His voice was a snarl, laced with disgust.

He dragged me, not caring if my worn shift rode up, not caring about the blood that might be seeping from my latest wound onto the pristine floor. My hair tangled, pulling painfully at my scalp. Each bump, each jerk, sent tremors through my already weakened frame.

My vision swam. Sounds became muffled, like I was underwater. All I could focus on was the burning in my arm, the tearing in my muscles. My body was a puppet on broken strings.

We moved through the winding corridors. The air grew colder. The scent of disinfectant intensified, mingling with a faint, cloying sweetness. I knew where we were going. Always the same place.

Finally, the dragging stopped. I lay crumpled on the floor, gasping for air. My chest heaved, each breath a struggle. My eyes fluttered open slowly.

Cliffton.

He stood there, perfectly composed. His dark hair was just so, his suit immaculate. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, usually held a cold fire. Now, they were narrowed, but there was a flicker there, brief and gone, when he saw me. Just a flicker.

His gaze swept over my disheveled form, over the bloodied shift clinging to my skin. Something shifted in his jaw. His lips, usually so firm and unyielding, pressed into an even tighter line. He looked away, quickly.

He swallowed hard. A subtle tremor ran through his shoulders. He composed himself almost instantly, a mask of cold indifference settling back into place.

"Adelaide," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Kim needs you. Now."

My heart, already a bruised mess, constricted further. Kim. Of course. It was always Kim.

I pushed myself up, slowly, painfully. My muscles screamed in protest. Each movement was agony. My eyes found Kim, lying on a plush chaise in the dimly lit medical wing. She looked pale, her hand pressed dramatically to her forehead.

"Look at her, Cliffton," Kim's voice was weak, theatrical. "Always so pathetic. Just trying to gain sympathy."

Another guard, bolder now, stepped forward. He kicked my side, a dull thud against my ribs. It wasn't hard enough to break anything, but it was enough to make me stumble, to remind me of my place.

"Get up, witch! Don't make him wait!" the guard snarled.

My head snapped up. I met Cliffton's gaze. His eyes were cold, unforgiving. No sympathy. No mercy.

"Don't try anything, Adelaide," he warned, his voice a low growl. "Or your brother will pay the price."

Benny. My sweet Benny. The thought of him, innocent and unaware, sent a fresh wave of fear through me. I couldn't risk it. Not for him.

"I... I understand, Cliffton," I whispered, my voice hoarse, raw. "I'm sorry."

I pushed myself to my feet, swaying slightly. My legs felt like jelly. I walked towards Kim, each step heavy. The air felt thick, suffocating.

Kim watched me approach, a smirk playing on her lips. Her "injury" seemed to disappear the closer I got. She had scraped her knee, a tiny scratch on her perfectly manicured leg. A "high-risk pregnancy" was her latest excuse for these theatrics. It was all a lie. I knew it. Cliffton, blinded by his hatred for my family, believed every word.

This was my life. A cycle of abuse, extraction, and misplaced blame. For years. How long could I endure it? How much more could my body, my spirit, take?

I reached the chaise. Kim stared up at me, her eyes glinting with a malicious satisfaction. She was enjoying this. Always.

I took a deep breath. This was the ritual. The familiar, agonizing ritual. I reached for the sterile kit on the bedside table. My hands trembled slightly.

Cliffton's voice cut through the air. "Everyone out. Now."

The guards, the medical staff, they all filed out, leaving just the three of us. The heavy door clicked shut. The silence that followed was suffocating. It pressed down on me, heavy and cold.

I glanced at Cliffton. He stood by the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me. What was he thinking? Did he ever wonder if I was telling the truth? Did he ever question Kim's endless "ailments"?

No. He didn't. His hatred ran too deep. His grief for his missing parents, fueled by Kim's venom, was a festering wound that twisted his perception. He saw a poisoner, a rival. He saw the enemy. He never saw the girl who loved him.

I sighed, a silent, internal sound. It didn't matter what he thought. It never did. I opened the kit. The instruments gleamed under the soft light. They were familiar, cold, and sharp.

I rolled up my sleeve. My arm was a map of old scars, faint silver lines against my pale skin. Each one a testament to my sacrifice, to his survival. To his contempt.

I picked up the smallest lancet. My hand shook. This was the hardest part. The beginning of the pain. I clenched my jaw, preparing myself.

The sharp prick of the lancet. A searing pain, like liquid fire. I bit back a cry. A bead of blood, thick and shimmering, welled up. It was more than just blood. It was my essence. My life force.

"Stop faking it, Adelaide," Cliffton's voice was a low growl. "You make a show of it every time."

He thought I was faking? After all this time? My blood was the only thing keeping him alive, the only thing keeping Kim's elaborate lie going. My body was a dying vessel, drained repeatedly. Each extraction took a piece of me, not just physically, but spiritually.

If he only knew, I thought. If he only knew what this really was. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He saw a slow-acting poison, a weakening agent. He saw what Kim told him to see. He never saw the cure. He never saw the love.

I let the blood drip into the prepared vial. It glowed faintly, a soft, ethereal light. The regenerative stem cells, unique to my lineage, were potent. They were miracles.

Kim watched, her eyes wide, a strange mix of fear and triumph on her face. She saw the glow. She saw the power. She wanted it all.

The vial filled quickly. My arm throbbed, a deep, persistent ache. My vision blurred again. My body sagged.

"There," I whispered, holding out the vial. My hand trembled, but the vial was steady.

Cliffton snatched it. He moved to Kim, his touch gentle as he applied the glowing liquid to her scraped knee. The tiny cut healed instantly, the skin knitting back together as if it had never been broken.

"My love," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness he never showed me. He kissed her forehead. "Are you alright?"

Kim leaned into him, a soft smile on her lips. Then her eyes met mine. A flash of pure venom, a silent message: You lose.

"She's done now, Cliffton," Kim purred, her voice sweet, but with an edge of steel. "Have her removed. I can't stand the sight of her."

Cliffton's stormy eyes snapped to me. The tenderness was gone, replaced by the familiar cold rage.

"Get out!" he roared. "And don't show your face here again until you're called!"

I stumbled backward, my legs barely holding me. The floor felt cold against my bare feet. My head was pounding. My arm pulsed with a dull ache.

I crawled away, not bothering to walk. I couldn't. My dignity, my strength, everything was stripped away, piece by painful piece. I heard Cliffton's voice, soft and soothing, comforting Kim.

"That monster," Kim whispered loudly enough for me to hear. "Always trying to hurt us, Cliffton. Always trying to undermine what we have."

"She won't touch you again, my love," Cliffton promised, his voice low and dangerous. "I swear it."

A sob tore through me. It was a silent cry, caught in my chest. Empty. Hollow. The pain was more than physical. It was a crushing weight in my soul. My heart felt like it was ripping apart.

Just as I reached the door, a bucket of frigid water slammed into me. It wasn't just water. It was ice. It shocked my already weakened system. I gasped, shivering violently.

"Clean up your mess, monster!" A maid's voice, full of contempt, shrilled behind me. "You think you can bleed all over our clean floors?"

I tried to stand, but my legs buckled. The cold water clung to my shift, making me even colder. My body ached, shivered uncontrollably. How was I supposed to clean anything? I could barely move.

I fumbled for the cleaning supplies, my fingers clumsy and numb. The floor was spotless. There was no mess. The maid just wanted to torment me. Just like everyone else. Just like him.

Hours stretched, then faded into a blur. I scrubbed, or pretended to. My body screamed for rest, for warmth. But there was no rest, no warmth for me. Only the cold, the pain, the endless cycle.

From within the room, I heard the soft murmurs of Cliffton and Kim. Then, the sounds grew more intimate. Laughter. Soft moans. The sounds of love. The love I would never have.

Tears streamed down my face. Silent. Hot. They were the only warmth I had left. Cliffton's face, his eyes filled with disgust, flashed in my mind. He hated me. He truly hated me.

A strange calm began to settle over the chaos in my mind. A weary acceptance. My body was failing. I could feel it. The last extraction had taken more than I could give. My unique gift, my curse, was draining me faster than ever.

I knew. I could feel the subtle shifts, the fading of the inner light. The end was near. Perhaps only a few more months. Perhaps weeks. My body was a clock, ticking down to zero.

The thought, instead of bringing fear, brought a strange, quiet peace.

The next morning, the lingering smell of disinfectant and deceit still hung heavy in the air. I had managed to clean the floor, though my body felt like shattered glass. My old wounds, the ones that usually healed with my unique cells, were slower now, a dull ache that never quite faded. My regenerative abilities, once a source of quiet pride, were barely keeping pace with the demands placed upon them.

The sun, a pale disc in the cold sky, offered no warmth. Another day. Another cycle of torment.

Cliffton appeared, striding into the medical wing. He moved with a restless energy that always unsettled me. My heart gave an involuntary throb, a foolish reaction I couldn' t control. Even now, even after everything, my body recognized him, yearned for him.

His eyes, sharp and intelligent, swept over the room. They landed on a small, dark stain on the marble floor near where I had been. My blood. I had tried to clean it all, but some dark pigment, a deeper part of my essence, always remained.

His brow furrowed. "What is this?" His voice was low, dangerous.

I froze. My breath hitched. I hadn't seen it. Or maybe I had, and my exhausted mind had simply given up trying to erase all traces of my existence.

He squatted, touching the stain with a gloved finger. "Blood?" He looked at me, his eyes piercing. "Adelaide?"

I remained silent. What was there to say? It was my blood. Always.

"Did you... did you cut yourself again?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion, not concern.

"No, Cliffton," I whispered, my voice barely audible. It was a lie. Another small cut had opened during my painful cleaning, but he wouldn't believe me. He never did.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, standing up. He towered over me, a dark silhouette against the pale light filtering through the high window.

"I can clean it," I offered, my voice flat. "I'll make sure it's gone." I reached for the bucket.

A sudden commotion from the hallway. Voices, raised and urgent. Kim's voice, high-pitched and frantic.

"Cliffton! My love! Are you in there?" Kim appeared in the doorway, her hair perfectly coiffed, her silk robe flowing behind her. She looked distraught, her eyes wide with a practiced terror.

Her gaze landed on the bloodstain. Her face crumpled. "Oh, Cliffton! Is she... is she trying to seduce you again with her blood magic?" Her voice was carefully pitched to sound horrified, yet just loud enough to carry.

My stomach churned. Seduce him? With my blood? She was twisting everything, always.

"She's a witch, Cliffton!" Kim cried, rushing to his side, clutching his arm. "A temptress! Her kind always uses their... their essence to ensnare men, to drain them dry! Just like they drained your parents!"

The words hit me like a physical blow. My kind. The Valentine family. The ancient, whispered curse that haunted our name. The same curse Kim weaponized against me daily.

"They say that girl's family, the Valentines, are responsible for the 'disappearance' of the Faulkner elders," Kim continued, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, as if sharing a terrible secret. "They lure them in, promise them eternal life, then steal their souls, their power."

She squeezed Cliffton's arm. "They made them disappear, Cliffton. Vanished without a trace. And now she's here, in your home, trying to do the same to you! To your unborn legacy!"

My head spun. The accusations, the venom, they were a constant barrage. I was a villain, a murderer, a witch. My family, my bloodline, was a curse.

"She always tries to lure you with her pathetic injuries, Cliffton. She wants you to feel pity, to lower your guard. But she's a serpent." Kim's voice was a hiss. "You must never forget what her family did. You must make her atone. Forever."

Suddenly, a cold dread coiled in my gut. This wasn't just about cleaning a bloodstain. This was something else. A new trap.

I tried to back away, to retreat into the shadows, to find any corner of safety. My only refuge was the small, cold room where they kept me.

But Cliffton was too fast. He lunged, blocking my path. His hand clamped around my wrist, not gently, but with crushing force. My bones groaned under the pressure.

"Where do you think you're going?" His eyes blazed with a terrifying fury. "Trying to run from your crimes, witch?"

He dragged me, roughly, out of the medical wing, past a smirking Kim. He pulled me through a series of unfamiliar corridors, deeper into the estate. The air grew heavy, stagnant. A musty, ancient smell filled my nostrils.

We stopped before a heavy, ornate door. It was carved with symbols I didn't recognize, ancient and dark. A sense of unease settled over me. This was a forbidden place. A place of old magic, of dark rituals.

He kicked the door open. It groaned on its hinges, revealing a cavernous room lit by flickering torches. The walls were rough, unadorned stone. In the center, a large, sunken basin shimmered with dark, viscous liquid. It looked like ink, but it pulsed with a faint, malevolent light.

"It's time for you to remember your place, Adelaide," Cliffton snarled, his grip tightening. "Time for the old ways to cleanse your lies."

He dragged me to the edge of the basin. The air around it crackled with an unseen energy. The liquid pulsed, humming softly. My blood, my unique cells, they felt a violent repulsion, a searing pain, just being near it. It was antithetical to my very being.

"No," I whispered, my voice choked with fear. "Please, Cliffton. Not the Blood Bath."

This was the ancient Faulkner cleansing ritual, a barbaric practice from a bygone era. It was meant to purify those of my lineage, to extract the "darkness" from us. But for someone like me, with my specific genetic makeup, it was poison. Slow, torturous poison.

He ignored my plea. He forced me into the basin. The dark liquid enveloped me. It was ice cold, but also burning, like acid. My skin instantly reacted, blistering, peeling. It felt like every cell in my body was screaming, being torn apart.

The pain was immense. It wasn't the pain of a cut or a bruise. It was systemic. My unique cells, my life force, were being attacked, dissolved by the ancient magic in the liquid. They were fighting, raging against the foreign substance, but they were losing.

The liquid seemed to churn around me. Red patterns, like veins, appeared on the surface. "Look!" Kim shrieked, her voice gleeful. "The evil flows from her! She is a monster!"

Cliffton watched, his face impassive. His eyes, though, held a strange glint. A flicker of something. Was it satisfaction? Or was it concern, quickly buried?

He wanted me to break. To confess. To admit to crimes I hadn't committed. To prove Kim right.

But I wouldn't. I couldn't. I was dying, slowly, agonizingly, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

My body began to go numb. The burning receded, replaced by a cold, insidious paralysis. It started in my legs, creeping upwards, consuming me. I tried to move, to struggle, but my limbs were unresponsive. They felt heavy, detached.

I looked down. My skin, where the water touched it, was shimmering. It wasn't just burning. It was dissolving. My flesh was turning translucent, like glass, then dissipating into tiny motes of light that rose from the surface of the dark liquid.

My heart pounded, a frantic drum in my chest. This was it. This was the end. The final draining. The true poison. My life force, my very cells, were being unmade.

The numbness spread, reaching my chest. My breath grew shallow, ragged. My vision blurred, the flickering torches dimming.

Cliffton watched. Still impassive. Still unmoving. He saw me dissolving, literally turning into light, and he still believed it was a cleansing. He still believed I was evil.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached in and pulled me out. My body was limp, heavy, barely substantial. He tossed me onto the cold stone floor. I landed with a soft thud.

"Still silent, witch?" he sneered, his voice edged with frustration. "Still refusing to confess your sins?"

I tried to speak, to tell him the truth, to beg him to stop. But no sound came out. My throat was raw, my lungs burning. My body felt like it was made of mist.

I looked down at my hands. They were translucent, shimmering. The motes of light were still rising from my skin, drifting upwards, disappearing into the darkness of the cavern. My lower body was already fading, becoming intangible.

He turned, his back to me. "She's useless," he muttered, perhaps to Kim, perhaps to himself. "Take her back to her room. And make sure she stays there."

His voice faded. I heard the heavy door creak shut. I was alone in the cold, dark room. Alone with my dissipating body.

I tried to crawl, to find the faint moonlight that still shone through a high grate. But my body was failing. More of me was gone. My legs were almost entirely translucent.

A faint warmth. A soft touch. For a fleeting second, I felt a gentle brush against my cheek. It was so unexpected. So tender. Like a whispered promise in the darkness.

A soft touch, like a feather brushing against my cheek. It was a phantom caress, a ghost of comfort in the desolate cold. I felt a wave of profound sorrow, not my own, but belonging to someone else. A deep, aching sadness that seemed to envelop me for a fleeting moment.

Who? I wondered, my mind a hazy fog. Who mourns for me?

But the warmth vanished as quickly as it came. The sorrow receded. I was alone again, left with the familiar ache of my dissolving body. My consciousness drifted, a flickering candle in a strong wind. Time lost all meaning.

When I finally stirred, hours or maybe days later, the phantom touch was gone. The sorrow was gone. Only the cold remained.

Rough hands, belonging to the same guards who had dragged me before, clamped around my arms. They pulled me up, jostling my weakened frame. My body felt like it was made of tissue paper. Each movement threatened to tear me apart.

They didn't take me to my room. Instead, they dragged me outside, into the biting morning air. The wind was harsh, whipping through my thin shift. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. My skin, already translucent from the Blood Bath, felt like it was tearing under the assault of the cold.

I shivered violently. My stomach clenched, a hollow pit of hunger and nausea. My throat was dry, cracked.

We stopped in a clearing. The sun beat down, deceptively warm. But the wind still carried a chill.

Cliffton stood there, Kim by his side. She was draped in a luxurious fur cape, looking regal and utterly unaffected by the cold. She smiled, a cruel, knowing curve of her lips.

"Ah, our little witch has finally decided to join us," Kim purred, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Are you hungry, Adelaide? Thirsty?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry, too constricted. I could only manage a weak cough. My body swayed, my vision darkening at the edges.

Kim glanced at a guard, a subtle nod. The guard stepped forward.

He punched me. A sharp, brutal blow to my stomach. It landed precisely on the spot where an old wound, still raw and unhealed from a previous extraction, lay hidden beneath my shift.

A gasp tore from my lips. Pain exploded, a thousand needles piercing my already fragile flesh. My knees buckled. My unique cells, my healing power, they were too depleted to mend this quickly.

Warm blood, a dark contrast against my pale skin, bloomed on my shift. It spread, a stark, undeniable stain.

Cliffton's eyes narrowed. A fleeting expression of displeasure crossed his face. He watched the blood spread, his jaw tightening.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he took off his opulent velvet cloak. He flung it over me, covering the bloody wound, covering my dissolving form. It wasn't a gesture of kindness, I knew. It was to hide the evidence, to maintain appearances.

"Heal yourself, Adelaide," Cliffton commanded, his voice cold. "Stop being so dramatic. You always play the victim."

He turned to Kim, his voice softening. "She' s just trying to upset you, my love. She knows how sensitive you are in your condition."

He looked back at me, his gaze hardening. "Don't think for a second that your little tricks will work on me. You're trying to provoke Kim. Trying to make trouble."

He thinks I'm trying to provoke her? My mind screamed. I'm dying! But the words remained trapped, unspoken. He saw what he wanted to see. He believed what he wanted to believe. He believed her. Always her.

Kim, seeing Cliffton's attention waver, pressed closer to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She whispered something, her voice too low for me to hear. But I saw the malice in her eyes. I felt the poison in her words.

She glanced at me, her smile widening. My heart sank. Here it came. The next lie. The next trap.

"Cliffton, my love," Kim purred, her voice sweet, innocent. "I... I'm a little worried about the baby. Adelaide's... presence, her essence... it feels so dark. So cold."

She squeezed his arm. "What if she's trying to harm our child? What if she's using her fading power, her dying wish, to curse our lineage? To stop our heir from ever being born?"

The words were a direct hit. My mind reeled. Curse their child? I, who had dedicated my life to preserving his? I, who carried the burden of our shared secret, our symbiotic histories?

"She wants to poison our future, Cliffton! Just like she poisoned your parents! She uses her life force, her blood, to drain others, to take their vitality for her own twisted ends!" Kim's voice rose, a dramatic crescendo.

Cliffton stiffened. His eyes, already stormy, darkened to an almost black hue. His jaw clenched, muscles working furiously.

He turned from Kim, abandoning her with a suddenness that made her gasp. He took a menacing step towards me. His gaze was pure ice, pure hatred.

"Are you trying to harm my unborn child?" he snarled, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "Is that your latest trick, witch? To attack the innocent? To steal their very life before it even begins?"

"No!" I rasped, finally finding my voice. It was a broken sound, thin and reedy. "No, Cliffton, I would never-"

He cut me off. "Silence! Your lies mean nothing! I will not allow you to pollute my bloodline, to stain my legacy!"

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into the wounds from the Blood Bath. I cried out, a raw, primal scream of pain. My body, already dissolving, felt like it was being ripped apart.

"If you so much as think of harming my son, Adelaide, I swear, I will make you wish you had never been born! I will condemn you to a fate worse than any death!" He shook me, violently.

Then he shoved me away. I tumbled to the ground, landing hard on the scorching earth. The ground burned my dissolving skin. The pain was excruciating, searing through my already weakened body.

My arms, my legs, they were fading. The motes of light rose in greater numbers now, shimmering and disappearing. My vision flickered. I couldn't feel my fingers anymore.

I'm dying, I thought, the realization settling over me with a chilling certainty. This is it. The end is truly here.

"Murderer!" Kim shrieked, her voice triumphant. "She's trying to murder our heir, Cliffton! Look at her! Her evil is consuming her!"

Suddenly, a new voice cut through the air. Urgent. Male.

"Lord Faulkner! We've found another one!"

Cliffton paused, his rage momentarily eclipsed by surprise. He turned, his gaze fixed on a breathless guard rushing into the clearing.

"Another one?" Cliffton demanded. "What do you mean?"

"Another of her... her kind, sir!" The guard panted, pointing in the distance. "A young male. He was trying to find this place, asking questions."

My heart leaped. A young male. Asking questions. It couldn't be.

"He looks like her, sir!" the guard continued. "The same eyes, the same strange glow!"

My breath caught in my throat. Benny. My sweet, innocent Benny. He had come for me. He had found me.

No. No, this couldn't be happening. He was supposed to be safe. He was my only hope, my only anchor.

Benny! My mind screamed his name. A wave of protectiveness, fierce and primal, surged through my fading body. I had to save him. I had to.

"Bring him!" Cliffton commanded, his voice sharp with renewed suspicion. "Bring him here! Let's see what other secrets this family of witches is hiding!"

I tried to move, to stand, to run, but my body was unresponsive. I was fading. My legs felt like mist.

They brought him. Benny. My little brother. He was shackled, his face bruised, his clothes torn. His eyes, so full of youthful innocence, were wide with fear. He was chained like an animal, a glowing collar around his neck, suppressing his own nascent powers. He was so small, so vulnerable. He looked so much like me.