Chapter 4 Nyx
Nyx
The door closes with a quiet click, extinguishing the ray of light that was sneaking through.
I cradle the quickly cooling bowl of rice and beans in both hands, staring at the now-empty doorway.
My heart still thumps behind my ribcage, fighting this silent war between the thrill of having Reyes so near this space and the fear of what he might think if he looked inside.
Vines weave around my cottage, uninvited but welcome.
They curtain the windows with their leafy fingers and prevent anyone from being able to see past. My protectors, and the keepers of my secret.
They turn the sunlight into streams of jade that bathe the entire living area in a green glow.
It’s my one comfort, knowing the forest has made this place its home, too.
Metal silverware clanks against the ceramic bowl as I walk over to the only piece of furniture and sit. Shame swells in my stomach, filling my insides until I’m convinced I might overflow with it. I look around the barren space.
A small bed.
An even smaller table.
Hard floors beneath my feet, and a thin blanket atop the mattress.
A mirror image of my cell at Ljómur.
The replica is perfect, down to the precise distance between the bed and the tiny table. My arm knows exactly how far to reach for a glass of water. Ninety years of practice have turned it into muscle memory.
Here, even in my freedom, I’ve recreated my prison. Built a carbon copy of my captivity.
I hate it.
The memories.
The familiarity.
The solace found in the emptiness.
A tear slides down my cheek as I close my eyes and force myself to breathe. Alone, so alone, no matter who’s around. Wanting to reach out and form those connections, to rediscover what it’s like to belong. I crave the comfort of another as much as I’m terrified to receive it.
One more thing to plague my mind. It’s so loud inside my head, with the push and pull, back and forth, start and stop, stop, stop.
My thoughts keep spinning, changing, and rearranging.
Warring, and screaming, always screaming, until there’s no room for anything else.
The fork clanks against the bowl again, my legs quaking beneath me as I fight this fall into oblivion.
Deep breaths. Steady inhales and draining exhales.
Eat.
Reyes said to eat. That’s something I can do. Something I can control. My body needs fuel.
I take a bite.
Swallow, but don’t taste.
It’s a start. Eat.
The other prisoners at Ljómur were rabid beasts when their food came.
We were always hungry, but they gave us just enough to sustain our bodies.
Still, the moment the trays slid through the openings in their barred doors, they snatched them up as if they might never receive another meal.
But there was no need. No rush. They failed to realize one vital fact.
Our lives were too important to be taken by any hands besides theirs.
We would not die unless it was of their choosing. Not our choice. Never our choice.
I tried, though. Gods, did I try. There were times I gave up on life, refusing my meals until I was too feeble to climb out of bed.
No one talks about how much starvation hurts.
Bone-deep hunger ate me alive, replaced my insides with its vicious razors, and it cut so deep, I swear I felt the bleeding.
But I fought through it. My desperation to fall into the embrace of an endless sleep outweighed the pain even as my limbs thrashed in protest. I’d seize and shake until my teeth clanked, but I wouldn’t eat.
The fantasy of never again waking inside the nightmare of that place helped push me past the agony. I longed for peace, but it was never granted.
I was never allowed.
Rough hands strapped me onto those tables and forced nutrients into my body as they shouted words I couldn’t understand. They injected me with more needles and fed me through a tube until they were certain I’d survive long enough for their next experiments.
In those moments, I longed for my cell.
For the only home I’d ever known.
Now I’ve recreated that cell and bound myself inside those walls.
A tear splashes into my bowl, and my hand shakes as I lift the spoon to my mouth and force myself to take another bite.
Flavors explode on my tongue. It’s a sensation I’m still getting used to after a lifetime of bland meals.
Chew, and swallow, then repeat. I do it again and again, methodically eating my dinner until it’s gone.
Water pours in a sputtering stream from the faucet as I wash my dish and set it aside to dry. I should return it to Ronan, but I don’t have it in me to face the world. My eyes drift over the growing stack of cleaned plates and bowls, guilt once again gnawing at my insides.
Seems I haven’t had it in me for a while now.
Moonlight melts into a pale sunrise and shines through the window, its glow illuminating the oversized t-shirt that covers my torso.
Sleep escaped me throughout the night. My mind was too full of memories to quiet long enough to rest. Birds chirp in the distance, and I sit up and stare between the vines into the bluish-orange dawn.
My eyes wander to Reyes’s cabin across the path, and I wonder if he ever has trouble sleeping.
Probably not. He’s so confident. Comfortable in his own skin, but not in the same loud way as Ronan and Elas.
Reyes holds a quiet strength that silences some of the turbulence in my mind, and I hate how I fall apart in his presence.
What must he think of me?
So damaged and pitiful.
So fragile.
So strange.
My bare toes curl against the wooden floor. I should wear shoes like the others, but I loathe their restrictive bindings when all I want is the dew-covered grass beneath my feet. After I slide a pair of shorts under my shirt, I step outside.
Underneath the canopy of the forest, I’m more at home than I am inside my cottage. My kind are deeply in tune with nature, though I never had the opportunity to learn its magic. I was too young when I was taken, and time has stolen the bits of knowledge I once had.
Now I rely purely on instinct. My hand drags along a low bush, and I push my energy outward, watching as it rewards me with blooms and new, bright green growth.
It gives me peace, however fleeting. I loop around the outskirts of the village and soak in the quiet morning while everyone else still sleeps.
Through the trees, my eyes land on the garden, and I heed its call.
Wood creaks as I push the gate open, taking a deep inhale of the fresh, earthy scent.
Reyes spends so much time here that I feel his presence everywhere.
In the hand tools that lean against the fence, and the empty bottle he set beside them.
In the primitive shed he and Lillith spent a few days building.
It’s a little lopsided, but it serves its purpose. Useful, even if it isn’t perfect.
Reyes respects the plants in a way the others don’t.
They know they’re important on a surface level, but he acts as their keeper.
Waters them and fights against the insects, and checks them daily for disease or damage.
He builds fences to protect them and reuses pieces of netting that keep the animals out of our food.
It makes me sad that the forest creatures are being denied this feast, but I understand it’s necessary.
I’ve overheard Ronan and Reyes discussing our supplies, and that we need more to feed everyone through the colder months.
This world is harsh, even outside Ljómur's walls.
My knees sink into the soft soil, and I trace my fingers along the giant, velvety leaves.
Ronan calls this plant a squash, though that word doesn’t make sense to me.
He also called it a squash when he killed a spider on his leg, and these things are very different.
Their words confuse me, but I try to remember them.
I try to find space in the white noise of my brain.
Dozens of long, yellow-green vegetables rest on the dirt underneath the leaves, and I give the soil a boost of my magic as I inspect them.
Faint rustling startles me, but when I turn, a small creature stares at me from the other side of the fence.
It has a bushy tail and makes a curious chittering noise at me, and the hint of a smile tugs at my lips.
“Hungry?” I ask as I pluck the smallest fruit from its stem and pass it through the fence. The animal holds it with tiny, clawed hands and chitters again. “You are welcomed,” I say as it takes a few rapid bites, and its cheeks push out wide.
A sound beyond the trees startles us both, and my new friend darts away and scurries up a tree.
Fear clamps its icy fingers around my heart, and I scramble to my feet, barely remembering to close the gate behind me as I dash for the safety of my house.
I pause, though, at the familiar rumbling voice.
Indecision makes me hesitate for a few long moments, but I recognize the sadness in the quiet whispers.
I know their pain.
Shaky feet lead me back into the forest, noisier than usual to announce my arrival. Elas sits against a large tree. His eyes are closed and his face tilted up towards the dawn sky, and his ears twitch as I approach. “Hey, Nyx,” he says, never opening his eyes.
“How did you know?”
A bittersweet smile spreads over his lips.
“You smell like the honeysuckle plants that grow near the stream.” We’re both silent for a long stretch before he forces another smile, this one rigid and fake.
“Are you here to learn more fun words? Ronan yelled at me for two whole minutes after you called him a pervert, but I never admitted anything. Secret’s safe for now. ”
“You are sad,” I say after a moment, and the budding happiness on his face crumbles back into pain. Guilt tries to close my throat, but he pushes out a shaky sigh and nods.
“Yeah,” he rasps, taking a few steadying breaths. “Yeah, I am.”