Love Blooms Again

Freya felt like throwing up at their touch.

But it also made her remember the pepper spray in her bag. She grabbed it and sprayed it at the men before fleeing the room.

“Ahhh! You bitch!” They cried out in pain before running after her.

“Get her! Make sure she gets what's coming to her!”

Freya anxiously pounded on the doors of each private room as she ran, but none of the occupants would help her.

It seemed like they were accustomed to such incidents.

By the time she pounded on the last door, she heard faint voices coming from inside.

It was Ifrit’s muffled voice.

“Mr. Harett, it's… It’s Miss Stein. She must have regretted what she said. Please stop kissing me, I… I can’t take it anymore!”

“Don't worry about her,” Magnus said thickly.

“You’re mine now. Nobody can stop me from being with you. Just surrender yourself to me.”

There were sounds of clothes ripping.

Freya shivered and stopped pounding on the door.

Tears began to fall against her will, and the numbing sensation in her heart slowly turned to pain. Its ripple spread to every part of her body.

Then she remembered the men who were drawing closer.

She panicked and ended up stumbling into the next room. She quickly rushed into the attached bathroom.

She dunked her head into a bucket of ice-cold water to regain her sense of reason before reaching for a fruit knife to jab it into her thigh.

The smell of blood filled her nose, and the pain helped her snap back to reality.

It was then that she realized the bathroom mirror allowed her to peek into the adjacent room.

Magnus and Ifrit were all over each other.

They had stripped, and Magnus had Ifrit perched on the sink, her legs in the air as he entered her.

Ifrit was crying with a mix of pain and pleasure.

He hungrily kissed her again and again, and when Ifrit grew accustomed to the feeling, his desire would take over, and he would dominate her again.

Freya dug her nails into the flesh of her palms at the sight.

She felt numb as she watched the pair go round after round.

She watched the way Magnus completely lost himself in his passion and the way Ifrit squirmed and pleaded with him.

Freya had lost count of how many times they went at it as she stabbed herself.

It was only when the bathtub was stained with blood and the effect of the drug subsided that she finally sobered up.

It was dawn when she limped out of the room on her injured leg.

Her face was pale, and her eyes were lifeless as she dragged herself along the corridor at the same time Magnus and Ifrit left their room.

Magnus saw the state she was in and felt a pang of concern deep inside him that he could not explain.

Ifrit seemed equally affected.

She gestured at the blood on Freya’s legs, “You weren’t drugged, weren’t you? Were you having some fun too?”

Then she turned to Magnus. “Do you think it’s because the men Miss Stein gathered were as excited as you were back in the room?”

The sheer suggestion of what might have happened made Magnus angry.

“Don’t you have any self-respect, Freya?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Freya could not stop replaying the scenes from the night before as she stared at Magnus.

It made her nauseated.

He was the one who threw her to the wolves, so what gave him the right to mock her now?

“It’s none of your business.”

She dragged her injured leg behind her and tried to limp away, but Ifrit stopped her.

“Who knows if those men are clean? What if you catch something from them… Mr. Harett, we have to take her to get tested.”

Freya turned down the offer.

Ifrit immediately began to cry. “I meant well… Did I do something wrong, Mr. Harett?”

“No, you didn’t. I know you meant well.” Magnus put his arm around her shoulders and fixed a dark look at Freya.

“If you want her to get tested, then she must get tested.”

“I won’t…”

Before Freya could even object, Magnus’ men showed up again and escorted her to the hospital.

It was a humiliating trip.

She was forced into the gynecology department under the scrutiny of many onlookers who seemed to be mocking her.

They began to conduct a series of examinations that felt invasive and uncomfortable.

And it was all Ifrit’s doing.

She felt like she was livestock on the slaughter table. The doctors certainly had their way with her.

She felt as if her heart was going to stop beating from complete apathy.

At one point, she had lost track of how long the grueling torture lasted and only realized it ended when she stepped out of the room in her tattered clothes.

Ifrit was all over Magnus’s arm when she approached.

“Doctor, how’s it looking? Did she catch anything?” she asked with feigned concern.

“She… there were so many men last night, and she bled so much. You don’t think it caused any permanent damage, did it?”

The doctor frowned at the question.

“I’m not sure what you are talking about, she is clearly still a virgin…”

Before he could even begin to explain, the onlookers began to drum up a wave of commotion.

They took pictures with their phones and began to speculate wildly.

“That explains why she had so many examinations done on her! She must have had a wild night!”

“A whole group of men! She might look innocent on the outside, but you would never expect how wild she is on the inside.”

“Hey, pretty lady! Count me in next time! I’ll even pay!”

The streams of insults they hurled at Freya stabbed at her already wounded heart.

She turned to Magnus. “Are you happy now?”

Magnus froze when she looked at him.

He gulped and just as he opened his mouth to reply, he noticed something on her waist exposed by her tattered clothes.

“Where did you get that scar?”