Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“Lennox! Lennox! You’re here! Wake up!”
Fin’s voice echoes in my mind and I groan, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, trying to will away the image of him standing in front of me, waving and jumping excitedly.
I don’t need to endure any more pain right now.
The nightmares haven’t stopped, but instead have worsened since being locked in this room, fueled by starvation and isolation.
Because now I’m seeing Fin, and he’s never been in one before.
I tuck my chin into my chest and curl into a tighter ball. This is the longest I’ve been without food in my entire life, and now my mind is clearly being affected.
“Why aren’t you sleeping in your bed, Lennox? The floor is too hard.”
The floor? We aren’t anywhere near our bunks at camp.
My eyes fly open. His voice is too loud and clear to be part of my dream. Light and shadows dance across the wooden wall I turned to face in my sleep, a stark contrast to the darkness I’ve been living in for hour after hour. I push myself up onto my elbows, my head swiveling to look into the room.
I must be hallucinating.
Fin kneels next to me, eyes wide with a cheerful smile as he watches me look over him. A lantern sits beside him on the floor, the flicker of flames responsible for the light in the room.
He can’t really be here. I hadn’t heard him come in, which means he’s either a figment of my imagination, my dream projecting into my reality, or I am so weak and unguarded that the sound of the door opening and closing, of him maneuvering into the room didn’t wake me.
“Are you real?” I ask, hesitating to reach out and touch him.
“Course I’m real! Why wouldn’t I be?” he says, his smile widening.
Slowly, I extend my arm. My fingertips brush the top of his knee and meet warm, solid flesh.
“Oh my gods, Fin!” I scramble onto my knees and all but tackle him with a hug. Dark spots appear over my vision and I heave breaths to keep my head from spinning. This is the most I’ve moved since I got here, and my stomach sinks as I realize how weak I have become.
I pull back and run my hands over his face and shoulders, my eyes assessing him for any marks or bruises. “You’re alright. You’re fine. They didn’t hurt you?”
“Nope! They didn’t hurt me. Don’t be scared. I was scared at first, but everyone is so nice to me. You’ll see.”
I feel a pang in my chest at his youthful innocence.
He is so pure, so loving. He isn’t hardened to the world yet from the wicked motivations of others.
I grieve for all of us who have already lost it.
He doesn’t understand how he is being manipulated, how the kindness they are showing him is only to gain his trust and compliance.
It makes me want to protect him even more.
I shake my head. “No, Fin. I know it might seem that way, but they aren’t nice. Remember everything Dane told us about the Castaways? They try to confuse us to get us to believe them.”
How did Edmond teach me these kinds of things as a child? How am I supposed to convey the severity and danger of the situation without scaring him, in a way he will understand?
“Oh,” he says, his face falling slightly. “Well, when I asked if I could see you again today, mister Weston told me yes. He said I could have lunch with you. That was nice.”
I huff a breath out of my nose. “Yes, I suppose that was nice,” I say, keeping my voice soft. It isn’t Fin’s fault he’s being manipulated by a monster. He’s a child and doesn’t know any better. He needs someone to protect him and teach him, but most importantly, to get him out of here.
“See?” he says. He spins on his knees and comes back around with a large wooden board piled high with food.
Fruit and bread and chunks of cheese cover every inch, and my mouth salivates at the sight.
My stomach feels like it is folding in on itself, and it takes a lot of focus to pull my eyes away from the food.
Fin shifts his body to sit down cross-legged in front of me, and I do the same as he slides the board between us. He reaches back toward the lantern and grabs a glass bottle and two wooden cups stacked inside each other, and sets them both down next to the board.
“I heard Sig say you were here, and I was so happy to see you! But then you didn’t come out, and it was sad.
I came out really fast, but you didn’t. You just kept staying and staying and Sig told me I had to be patient.
Being patient is hard. But then it has been lots of days, and I miss you.
” He rambles on, the disappointment from a few minutes ago already forgotten.
My attention catches on one statement, and I interrupt him. “Wait, Fin, how long has it been? How long have I been locked in here?”
“It’s been so long. Days, Lennox. It was the longest wait ever. I had to wait like eight sleeps. I counted. But now you’re here!”
Eight days. I have been lying here, starving, for eight days.
“Mister Weston has been really grouchy, but Eirlik said he’ll ‘get over it.’ I dunno what that means, because he’s not climbing over anything. Just sitting. But I believe him.”
It’s true then, that Weston is the one sitting outside of my door, keeping guard. If the argument from before hadn’t been clue enough, Fin has all but confirmed it.
I hope he’s uncomfortable.
He reaches toward the board and grabs a piece of melon, bringing it to his mouth, and my skin erupts in a cold sweat.
“Fin, no!” I snatch it out of his hand and toss it back on the pile.
My hands shake as I take deep shuddering breaths, trying to calm myself.
Is this Weston’s new angle, using Fin against me?
Force me to concede by threatening him? How low is this vile man going to sink, using a child to get what he wants?
My jaw aches from clenching it. I cannot wait to be rid of him once I get out of here and rally the Voyagers.
“Why’d you do that, Lennox?” Fin asks, his eyebrows squishing together as he looks between me and the piece of fruit.
“It could be poisoned,” I urge, wiping the juice onto my soiled shirt. I’ve been in these clothes for eight days. I long for a bath and something clean to wear, but there is no way in hell I am going to ask for it.
“Is that why you aren’t eating? Mister Weston says you aren’t eating.”
Of course he did. Leave it to the mastermind to tell the child more than he should know.
Any child would be concerned if someone they cared about wasn’t eating, so I am not at all surprised that Fin wanted to bring me food.
But even though Weston is using it as part of his plan, that doesn’t mean I need to lie to Fin about it.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“It’s not. See?” Before I can stop him, he reaches down and grabs the melon again, shoving the juicy fruit into his mouth. My breath catches as I watch him chew, waiting for a sign, any indication that he is going to fall in front of my eyes.
He swallows and smiles a big, toothy grin.
“See? Why would I bring you a poisoned lunch?” He plucks a chunk of bread off the board and starts ripping pieces off, popping bits into his mouth.
My body deflates.
There’s no poison.
I’ve spent eight days starving myself, avoiding an attack I was sure was coming, but I was wrong.
Weston must have a longer game in play.
If poison isn’t his tactic, then there’s nothing stopping me from eating and regaining the strength I’ve let waste away over the last eight days.
The decision not to trust the food might end up harming me more than it helped, but I guess if it was poisoned, the reverse would be true.
What’s important now is getting my strength back.
If I am not strong enough to get out, or worse, to bring Fin with me, all the suffering will have been for nothing, and I’d be stuck here.
With Weston.
My hand shakes from the lack of use and hunger in my muscles as I reach toward the board.
I choose a round, whole piece of fruit, already lowering the risk of poison unless it is on the outside.
Juice drips down my chin with the first bite, and I let out a groan.
My shoulders drop, the tension held there from my hunger finally able to release.
It’s as if a dam breaks somewhere inside me with the one taste of the fruit, and I am suddenly ravenous. Poison is nowhere near my mind as I reach for more food, taking bites of bread and cheese, dipping it into a pot of jam, shoveling it into my mouth, and barely chewing before gulping it down.
“Here’s some juice. I think it’s apple,” Fin says as he slides onto his knees and uses both hands to carefully pour liquid into both cups.
Taking it from him quickly, I gulp the juice greedily before my stomach starts to churn.
I need to slow down. I haven’t had food in days, and my body might easily reject it if I don’t pace myself.
Fin continues talking excitedly, while I take a few breaths, letting the food settle, then slowly take more bites.
He tells stories about things that make little sense to me, naming people I don’t know, as if he’s known them for longer than just a few days.
My mind is too foggy to focus on any of it, especially now that it is reeling from having access to food again.
“I’m so glad you’re eating, Lennox! Now you just need to be good so mister Weston will let you out and I can show you all the stuff!” he says over a full mouth of food.
“Fin,” I start, and then swallow my bite. “I can eat, but I can’t be the way they want me to be. We have to get back to Dane and the Voyagers. That’s where it is safe. That’s where we belong.”
“But I can’t. I’m part of the crew! I have things to do!
I don’t get to leave, though. Mister Weston says it’s not safe for me to.
I heard him tell Sig that Dane was dumb and irresponsible for letting me go out all alone.
But I told him I wasn’t alone all the time because I had you!
He said he knew that, but I still am too little and he would protect me here. ”