Chapter 10 #3
I saw Madame move and closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see her slice off Mist’s other ear. The noise that came out of Mist’s mouth made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Bones.”
Madame’s sharp voice forced my eyes open. She gave me a hard look as Mist sobbed through her teeth beside her, blood running down her neck.
“I want her to be able to hear me, but don’t bother trying to make her look pretty,” Madame ordered.
I moved forward woodenly and placed my hands on either side of Mist’s bloody head. I couldn’t meet her eyes, shame blazing through me like a fire. My healing stopped the blood and closed the wounds, but her ears were still gone.
“Can you hear me, Mist?” Madame demanded.
Mist spit a mouthful of blood at her, and I jumped as Madame plunged her knife through the palm of Mist’s hand. Mist screamed and, out of pure desperation and panic, I looked at Mac.
I can’t do this! I screamed inside my head.
He met my frantic gaze with his steady one. I didn’t know him well enough to know his tells. Did he hate this as much as I did? Did he not mind watching Madame torture people? I was near tears, but his face stayed expressionless.
I gave up and looked away. Madame tortured Mist for several hours.
She demanded names, demanded to know who the food was for, but Mist gave her nothing.
I healed Mist when Madame instructed, avoided eye contact, and tried to pretend I was somewhere far, far away.
Finally, Madame signaled to the guards to take Mist back to her cell.
“Bones, you go and make sure she lives to see another day,” Madame commanded me. “I’m not done with her yet.”
Mac and I followed as the two guards dragged Mist’s limp body down the hallway. There were more cells down here than I’d thought. And most of them were occupied. Scrawny faces pressed themselves against the bars, watching us walk past. I kept my eyes down to avoid looking at them.
The guards threw Mist into her cell and then stepped out, gesturing at me with a sneer.
I slipped through the open door and knelt at her side to place my shaking hands on her bloody arm.
She wasn’t conscious, but I healed her injuries and took away the pain.
I couldn’t make her ears grow back, but at least she could still hear. All this over stolen food?
A flash of something ugly tightened my chest. Whatever Mist had done, it had been reckless. Careless. The kind of mistake that got people hurt or killed. White-hot shame followed, sudden and suffocating, and washed away my anger. I’d been a part of hurting her.
“I’m sorry, Mist,” I breathed. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
She didn’t wake up, but her breathing had evened out. I stood numbly, wiping my dirty, bloodied sleeve across my face before I left the cell. I followed the guards down the hall, Mac at my side. As we walked past the cells a sudden voice rang out: “Hey, you!”
Startled, I looked up to see a man hanging on the bars of his cell.
Unlike the others I’d seen, he didn’t look gaunt and sick.
He wore simple clothes, but he was muscled in a way that would make most people steer clear of him.
His unkempt black hair hung in his face.
I met his sharp almond-shaped eyes and my heart stopped.
He was staring straight at me as though he recognized me.
“Shuddup,” one of the guards said, smacking the bars with the butt of his gun.
The man fell back, his arms raised, but he didn’t look away from me.
I ducked my head and hurried after the guards, but I could still feel his eyes on me until we climbed the stairs and left him behind.
My heart pounded in my throat, but the guards didn’t seem to have noticed.
I didn’t recognize him at all. He wasn’t a Reaper.
If he’d met me before, I had no idea how or when.
I hated the way the bright sunlight outside highlighted the blood coating my hands and clothes, revealing the horrible things I’d done in that room.
I didn’t wait for Mac and beelined for the clinic.
I desperately wanted to change and wash myself.
I caught a glimpse of Mac following behind me as I threw the clinic door open and stormed inside. Anger crackled under my skin.
I went right to the sink, scrubbing my hands with more force than I needed.
The lavender soap did nothing to calm down my raging emotions and made me feel guiltier for what I’d done to the person who so carefully crafted it.
The door opened behind me, and Mac’s footsteps approached.
My chest tightened as I inhaled. I sure as hell was not gonna cry in front of him.
“Did you know that guy?” Mac asked.
“What guy?” I asked through my teeth, playing dumb.
“The one in the cell.”
“No.”
It wasn’t a lie, but in the silence, I could tell Mac didn’t believe me.
“He looked like he knew you.”
“I don’t know him, Mac.”
I finished scrubbing my skin raw and turned around. Mac leaned with his back against the table, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. I had the sudden urge to scream at him.
“What?” I demanded instead.
Mac stared at me like I was a riddle he wanted to solve. I glared back at him, waiting.
“I’m not okay with it,” he said in a low voice.
“Okay with what?”
“The torture,” he clarified.
“Congrats on not being a monster,” I spit out.
One corner of his lip turned up. “I could tell you were wondering.”
“Great. Thanks for letting me know you’re not okay with the horrible thing you’re forcing me to do.”
His amusement disappeared. “I’m not forcing you to do anything.”
I scoffed. “I would not be here if you hadn’t brought me here by force.”
He shifted, but his eyes narrowed. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t have a choice, Bones. Maybe if you stopped trying to be a godsdamned martyr, you’d see that.”
He turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him before I could come up with a response.