21. Kenny
Kenny
T he bars are small.
So small. My hand barely fits between them, but it doesn’t matter.
There’s nothing there.
Screaming, until it burns my throat away to dust.
Until I’m nothing but a speck, buried in the dark.
Nobody is coming.
And it’s so, so dark.
***
Hurts.
I don’t want it to hurt anymore.
I thought death would be painless, at least.
My fingers brush against the bars. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there.
I’m so cold.
And it’s so quiet . So quiet that it feels… heavy. Almost a sound in itself.
I can feel something, though. Something else. Something that doesn’t belong to me, but… is me . It’s angry. I try to reach for it, try to touch it. But the bars won’t let me.
And the pain in my chest doesn’t go away. It grows, a sharp ache with every beat of my heart.
Why is my heart still beating if I’m dead?
***
My cheek presses against the floor.
I can feel that. I can feel the bars.
I curl up, trying to stay warm.
When the noise comes, it makes my ears hurt. My hands creep over my ears, trying to block it out.
The silence was easier. This noise burrows through, pushing at the bars. And the ache in my chest flares, so strong that it feels like someone is yanking on a rope. Pulling me.
Fear fills the air around me. My fear. Heavy, and cloying, and suffocating. No.
My fingers scrabble against the floor. Holding onto it.
No.
I can’t go back.
Back…
Confusion. I don’t know. I don’t—
That noise creeps through again, filling my ears. Louder, this time. It burrows into my ears, not letting go.
Words. So many words. I try to separate them, but it’s hard.
Kenny.
I know that word. Cautiously, I reach out—
But it’s gone. And the absence feels so much worse this time that I wish I’d never heard the sound at all.
Leave me alone.
Just leave me alone.
***
The tugging does not stop. A gentle, insistent nudge that won’t leave me be.
And there is… softness. I can’t see anything. Only that endless darkness.
But I can feel it. It’s warm, and I push myself closer, against those bars.
And there is something else. Something new. Something that smells… familiar.
More than one scent.
It slips—
No. I grab for it, for that feeling, and hold on.
Don’t go. Don’t leave me here. Please.
The softness lingers as I try to remember. There was… something. It was important.
Breathe.
I can’t remember.
Breathe.
I don’t know how. How to do anything else but exist. To wait for those small scraps to reach me. I don’t know how to reach back .
So… I wait. And as those scraps reach me through the bars, I try to hold onto them. To gather them together, little pieces of a puzzle that I need to remember.
Kenny.
***
Safe.
I am safe here.
Nothing hurts anymore. There is warmth, and I curl myself into it, holding onto it. This is… better.
I stare out into the darkness. And – there.
A flash. Something new.
Eyes. Dark eyes.
Familiar eyes.
But then it’s gone.
Breathe.
And this time, I recognize something else. It burrows into my nose, into my head. Different things. Spice, and sweetness.
Softness against my fingers. And words, new words that don’t disappear. The bars beneath my fingers waver.
I can hear them. Hear—
Who is that?
I’m not alone anymore. There are others here, talking to me.
Come back.
Kenny.
I think… that’s me.
I need to remember—
But a wall slams down, cutting off the noise.
Not safe.
And I sense that presence again, on the other side of the bars. Silent, and watchful.
Keeping me safe.
I’m safe in here.
But I’m alone.
Always alone.
That… hurts. Pokes at something that makes me flinch back, away from the bars.
But—
Those eyes. Those words.
Those scents.
They linger. I can feel them against my skin, wrapping around me. Keeping me warm.
Slowly, I uncurl myself from the floor. My fingers wrap around the bars as I strain to look through the darkness.
My hand pushes through the bars. Testing.
And my fingertips brush something in the pitch black. Something rough, and warm, and soft. I yank them back, rubbing them together. They feel… damp.
My chest aches again. And it doesn’t go away.
I need—
Need something. Something that isn’t here .
Carefully, I pull at the bars beneath my hands. Testing.
They… move. Just a little.
Not enough to get through. But I keep testing. Keep pushing. Trying to reach them—
They’re calling me.
Who?
Not yet.
***
They’re here all the time now.
I can feel them. Sometimes I hear them talking to me. I cling to those moments, try to keep them with me even as they slip away.
Cautiously, I pull on the bars again. They bend a little more.
I need to know. It’s important.
Not safe.
I look up. The darkness doesn’t seem so… unending, anymore. It’s lightened, almost a murky grey. I can see movement.
I take a breath. The scents are stronger.
Mine.
These are… mine.
Let me through , I whisper in the dimness. Let me see.
Not yet.
It sounds like… me.
I run through what I know.
I am… Kenny.
It fits. A knowing that settles into me, warming me a little more.
They are mine.
It’s more than I had. But I need more.
Show me.
Help me.
The bars stretch a little further. Not enough to let me out.
But enough for them to slip in .
Safe .
But there’s an uncertainty to the thought. A silent question.
As if whatever pushes through the bars, wrapping me in warmth and comfort… it’s a possibility. Not an inevitability.
But I let myself curl into it anyway.
***
The warmth doesn’t leave me. This time, it… stays.
And with it comes more jagged glimpses. Enough that I start to build up a picture. Piece by piece. As if I’m rebuilding a wall that collapsed years ago, but my mind still remembers the way it should be.
I know these pieces, I realize. I don’t remember. Not yet. But I know them. The ache in my chest pulses, leaps, as if in agreement.
I know you.
Eyes. So many. Dark eyes, steady and unmoving. Green eyes, that glitter and shift. Blue eyes, calm and comforting. Hazel, warm and soft.
I know you.
***
The bars snap beneath my hands. Breaking, fading, as if they were never there.
There is nothing.
And then… there is everything.
Heat, blazing over my skin.
Hands – those are hands , gripping me, holding me steady, pressing me against that heat. I suck in a single, shuddering breath, tasting iron and musk and something that does not belong.
Too much—
“Kenny?”
I freeze at the low, rumbling sound. I feel it more than I hear it, reverberating through my bones, soaking into me.
“Kenny.” Barely a whisper, this time.
I don’t know what to do. My hands are gripping something soft, holding onto it with everything I have as I fight to breathe, to understand.
Where am I—
My eyes squeeze open, blurring and closing again. It’s too bright.
Too much.
A small, painful noise crawls from my throat. My fingers tighten in a silent plea.
“I’ve got you.” The voice trembles, shakes. “God, baby. I’ve got you. It’s okay, Ken.”
Roughness drags along my skin. My… neck. And something else, damp and salty that tinges the air around me.
My fingers flex. Testing.
“It’s okay,” the voice rumbles again. A hand runs down my back. Over, and over. Familiar, but… not. “Take your time.”
It breaks, shakes. Unsteady, and broken.
Broken.
I was… broken.
Slowly, I move my face. It’s pressed into warmth, and I push myself closer. Trying to bury myself in the scent. Musky and welcoming and safe . I know that scent. It stayed.
But yet…it’s wrong, too. Spicy, and metallic.
I pull back, tasting it on my lips. My eyes open again and again, blinking to clear away the tears.
But they keep coming. Filling my eyes, sliding down my cheeks.
“Ken,” the voice breathes. And those are fingers, cradling my face. Hazel eyes. Familiar. Mine . Those are mine, too. “Can you look at me?”
They’re all mine.
But that scent—
There are more words. So many more words, tripping over each other, filling the air and making me flinch back, burying my face back in that warmth.
“ Stop .” Another voice. A new voice. “Everyone, stop.”
And I know this voice, I realize slowly. Like I knew the first voice.
“Kennedy.” The second voice lowers, softens. “Can you hear me?”
The hands run down my back again. “Give her a minute.”
A minute. Time.
Minutes, hours. Days.
My mouth shapes, moves, but nothing comes out.
Images, words, memories, come bursting in.
The forest. I was in the forest, and it hurt. The memory of the pain makes me shrink away in remembered agony.
“Steady,” the voice murmurs. “You’re safe, Kenny.”
Safe.
“Theo. Your neck.”
Theo. My hold tightens.
Theo.
“I’m fine.” Rough, hoarse words, a shift beneath me that has me tensing. “You think I care? I’m staying right here. Not moving.”
Fine. Fine, fine.
Why would Theo be—
My eyes open again. His skin – his neck, is damp.
And… red.
I lower my fingers slowly. Press into it.
Wet. Iron. Blood.
My heart thumps as I stare at it, smeared across my hands.
I… did that. I can taste it in my mouth.
And then I remember.
Who I am.
Who they are.
What I am.
Feral.
And why I am here.