Chapter 16
When I come to again, I’m more alert, more aware.
The cloud that has been riding my shoulders has dissipated a little more.
I have no idea how long I’ve been here, in and out of consciousness.
The darkness doesn’t change, there’s no indication that time has moved at all.
I sit up slowly, careful not to jostle my still-aching skull, and eye the soggy bread on the floor.
My empty stomach rumbles at the thought of food, and I’ve eaten far worse.
Living on the streets of the Rookery doesn’t allow one to be picky about what they put in their bellies. If it’s edible, it’s good enough.
I crawl toward it, my body screaming at me.
The pain from the fight and the pain from sleeping on a stone floor mingle in my bones.
I scoop up the bread. Lucky for me, there wasn’t much water left after it had been thrown in my face, so the bread isn’t too damp.
I bite into it. It tastes the way a wet dog smells, but it’s better than nothing.
I plug my nose and shove as much of it as I can into my mouth, trying not to taste it.
I need to find a way out of here and for that, I need my strength.
I’d eat maggots if I had to. For all I know I currently am.
The stale bread dries out my already too-dry mouth.
I pick up the cup, hoping there’s just a little left at the bottom.
Unfortunately, Captain Cockhead emptied it.
The dripping noise draws my attention. I run my hands along the rough, stone walls in search of the source.
I find a wet patch to the right of the door, put my fingers in it, and bring them to my nose to smell.
I wrench my face away from my hand, ignoring the stab to my brain at the quick motion.
It reeks. While I’m not sure if it is sewage, it definitely would not be safe to ingest. I lick my dry lips and sigh, crawling back to my spot on the floor across from the door and lean back against the wall.
Panic begins to build in my gut now that I’m awake and have nothing to distract me in the darkness.
No problem to solve or monster to fight.
I pull my necklace out of my bustier and take deep, calming breaths.
Falling apart right now will not help me.
Faint footsteps echo outside the door, followed by the key in the lock. My body’s punishing throbbing and my state of near panic is a winning combination that is sucking away any energy I gained from sleeping, but I’m going to fight. I won’t submit. I won’t yield again. I’ll die first.
The door swings open rapidly, slamming into the wall as though it was kicked in.
Light floods into the small space, making me wince.
The same redheaded man from earlier struts in.
This time I notice he’s in a black uniform.
It’s not a Garrison uniform; those are a sad beige color.
In the light, I make out a patch on his arm as he gets closer.
It’s circular and purple with what appears to be a shield stitched into it.
I’ve never seen the symbol before. In his hands is another crust of bread and a cup.
He eyes me up and down, his nose scrunching again.
I wait for the water assault. Maybe if I open my mouth, I can catch some.
I wait for him to get closer. He swaggers over and crouches in front of me.
I still. I can’t attack outright in the state I’m in.
I’ll surely lose that fight. I have to catch him by surprise.
I eye the cup. Maybe it’s hard enough to knock him out.
He sets the cup down gently on the floor and places the bread on top of it, not taking his eyes off me.
His expression is unreadable. Faster than I can react, his fist shoots out and connects with my face, forcing my head to slam back into the wall.
The pain is blinding. It feels as if my eye is going to burst from my head.
The blow knocks me to the floor on my side.
I lie there, clutching my face, unable to move.
So much for dying first.
I’ve never felt so powerless, so caught off guard, so unsure.
He stands, kicks over the cup and bread, and kicks me in the gut, causing me to curl in on myself, a cry tearing from my lungs.
I watch through watery eyes as he saunters for the door, his back to me, clearly not seeing me as a threat.
I struggle to my feet, willing strength into my bones, but my knees wobble beneath me and I collapse to the hard stone floor.
His cackle follows him as he slams the door, locking it behind him. Tears burn behind my eyes.
I will not cry.
I won’t give them that. I must keep calm, I must keep a level head, if I am to have any chance of getting out of here.
A steely determination settles over me like a warm blanket.
I slowly push myself to a sitting position and grab the sopping bread.
I don’t care. I shove it in my mouth and swallow. I will not let them break me.