Chapter Twenty
The Caged
Everything hurts. Every part of me. My soul. My skin. My bones. I think I am dying, and if I am, I don’t even mind.
I keep my eyes closed, absorbing the silence around me. My limbs are stiff, being held down by chains on the stone table. He was here all night, for hours, carving me up like a roast chicken. He was yelling, he was crying. He was hurt.
I don’t know why I expected the few weeks of gentleness to continue. I knew what he was. I knew who he was. He’ll never be capable of comfort.
I love him. I know I do. Even despite everything. I can feel that love, feel it as if it is a shard of glass piercing my heart, moving with every beat. Gods . What is wrong with me?
I flex m y fingers, or attempt to. I can’t really tell if they move.
I hope I’m dying.
What I do feel is a burning tingle in my fingertips. As if my hand strayed too close to a fire. As if it is burning through my skin, eating away at my flesh. As if it’s spreading from my skin to the stone. Lightning bolts taking away everything I have left.