Chapter 28
Iwas on a timer. It was simple math. The more I progressed, the bigger I became, the harder it would be for me—and, now, Three—to escape.
That’s if Three’s questions, and constant singing, didn’t get to me first.
When Three was in a good mood she liked to sing the part of the song about birthdays:
So, it is written that there will be three.
Born on the second of January.
Their roles are pre-written; there can be only one.
Which will be the key, to the Seal of Solomon?
When Three was nervous, she sang the part about sacrifice:
Mark each face, telling one from the other.
For there can be only one virgin mother.
Sacrifice must be made by those they love most.
Life to create life, for key to become host.
When Three was tired, she favored the part about betting:
From the fruits of their labor, we’ll be in command.
Wardens and Seal, cast demons from this land.
Choose your victor, and drink to good health.
Ring in the new age, to fortune, to wealth!
I almost preferred the Muffin Man nursery rhyme. Almost.
Don’t get me wrong, the songs were useful, at first, when I could put the pieces together about the prophecy, and the implications of my role within it.
From what I gathered, I was one of three born on January second, expected to be the key to Solomon’s Seal.
Each of our faces were marked, with our respective numbers, to identify us.
But only one of us could fill the role, so people began placing bets on which one of us would it would be.
For better or worse, my initial assessment comparing us to cattle had been wrong—we were more like racehorses.
Racehorses who required sacrifice.
Fuck.
I paced my cell, trying and failing to rub away the chafing of my shock collar as I processed the role Lawrence was forced to play. How Mads made Lawrence kill himself. Manipulated him. Drugged him. Made him forget himself. All because he was the person I’d loved most.
Just so there was a chance the rest of the prophecy would come true.
My anger reared its magnificent, ugly, head.
I didn’t care what Solomon’s Seal had planned for me, or the ridiculous notions that my passenger might “cast demons from this land”—whatever that meant. When I got out, I’d tear the Seal apart, brick by brick with my bare hands if I had to, until it all came crumbling down.
?
“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself!” As usual, Three gripped the bars between our cages, worry etched in every facet of her face.
It had become somewhat of a routine. Every three meals, or so, I’d attempt to remove my shock collar, and every time Three would overreact.
“Motherfucker!” I shouted as the lightning burned through the back of my neck and traced its route down my arms.
For the record, being shocked sucked, and no, it didn’t get any easier. The pain only became familiar.
Three stomped her foot. “I hate it when you do that, Two! You need to stop it!”
Sucking in one steadying breath after another, I glared from my spot on the mattress. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Another breath. “And, for the thousandth time, my name is Delilah.”
“No, it’s not.”
“A person’s name is not a number.”
“Mine is. And so is yours.” Lovely, she was feeling stubborn today.
“I’m not going to keep arguing about this with you, it doesn’t get us anywhere.”
“You pulling on the shock collar doesn’t get you anywhere, but you still do it.” She had a point, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying.
“That’s different…”
“How?”
“Do you know what will happen to me, to us, once Warden White and Madame have what they want?”
Unsurprisingly, Three looked at the floor, avoiding all eye contact.
For someone who had been in captivity her entire life, she was awfully tight-lipped when it came to any questions I asked. Like answering questions had been trained out of her. Which wasn’t surprising, just very unfortunate.
I’d dedicated a lot of time the last two weeks, in between Warden White’s visits, building trust, learning her favorite things, her fears, and what most importantly what motivated her.
She loved daisies, and pie, and finger-knitting, and playing with dolls, and making up stories, and reading about princesses. So, I used what I knew to my advantage.
I told her stories about princesses locked in tall towers who fought their way to escape. I told her about all the types of pie in the outside world. How many different daisies there were, how some liked shadow, and some had yellow petals instead of white, which she found “completely ridiculous.”
But every day, it was the same song and dance. Eventually, Three wouldn’t like something I was doing, she’d call me “Two”, I’d correct her, then ask her a question she’d refuse to answer.
Except this time her lips moved, mumbling something to herself.
“What did you say?”
“I said, we’ll live happily ever after!”
I got to my feet. “And you really believe that?”
“Of course, I do! That’s how all stories end!”
“That’s not how the real world works, Three. Not everyone has a happy ending, not everyone survives. You saw what happened with One.”
After the blanket episode, Three didn’t bring One up again. In fact, whenever I brought her up, Three blessed me with the silent treatment.
Being the positive and delightful person I am, I chose to look on the bright side—I now had a Three mute button.
Whenever she started singing the god-awful songs, or she got stuck in a loop of questions, I’d ask about One.
It worked like magic.
Until now. “That’s not going to work on me anymore. I know better because I’m smart! Warden White says so.”
“I know you’re smart, that’s why I’m asking you to think.”
“I am thinking! And you’re being mean. You’re a meany!”
Name calling, real mature. “Explain it to me, how am I being mean?”
“You!” She pointed at me, then paused. “You. You raised your voice. You are being mean. And it’s making me angry.”
“I did raise my voice.” I stepped towards the bars and wrapped my hands around the metal, my words so low she had to lean in to hear them. “So did you. But what did I say?”
Three swallowed, but she matched my tone, lowering her voice just above a whisper, “You said ‘not everyone has a happy ending’ and then you brought up One.”
A moment passed, then another. The tension slowly unfurling as she recognized the weight of her own words.
“Now, are you angry because what I said was mean?” I raised a brow. “Or because it made you uncomfortable?”
Another second passed before Three released the bars between us as if they’d been electrified. That was it, the reaction I was looking for—recognition.
Knowing I should further de-escalate the situation if anything was going to provide fruitful—and because arguing with Three took a lot out of me—I slid to the floor, my back against the bars.
From the swishing that followed, and the warmth against my spine, Three followed suit.
“Life is complicated and messy.” Gentle and unhurried, I continued, “Sometimes it’s easier to ignore what is going on around us to make our lives, just a little bit easier.
To choose what to believe, and avoid asking questions we don’t want the answers to, so we don’t have to acknowledge something that might bring us pain.
” Which was exactly what I had been doing with all my running from Jack and Todd, trying to escape a situation I didn’t want to confront.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. “You might not know this, Three, but you’ve had a hard life.
You’ve had choices taken away from you, and have been told it’s a privilege. ”
“It is a privilege. Without us, the Seal would be nothing. People celebrate us.” Her words stung, but I shouldn’t have expected anything different. She was born into this life. Brainwashed into thinking how she was treated was acceptable. “And you carry the Seal. You should be pleased.”
“People lie to get others to believe what they want them to believe. Even people we’ve been trained to trust.”
“The Wardens were right about the prophecy, though. You are the key.”
“That may be, but you have to remember, being here, all of this, wasn’t my choice. And I think you’ll soon realize, it wasn’t yours, either.”
?
Well, I’d done a thorough job of depressing Three, and myself, in the process.
The light flickering in the corner didn’t help matters.
I watched it buzz and clink on each of the many occasions where Warden White obsessively scanned my belly, simultaneously charging the shock collar still clamped around my neck, until he located the steady and familiar thwump, thwump, thwump on the ultrasound monitor.
Warden White was also an avid specimen collector, taking my blood and doing some analysis while muttering to himself about vitamin levels and something called “HCG”.
He really should have considered getting me a loyalty card to reward me for my contributions. But he seemed more concerned with Three’s mood, and lack of her idle chatter, than incentivizing my cooperation.
Wiping the gel off my stomach, White helped me to my feet. “You seem awfully quiet, Three. Is everything, alright?”
“Yep.”
“Is there anything I can get to make you feel better?”
“Nope.”
“I wouldn’t mind a shower and a change of clothes,” I offered, but Warden White kept his gaze fixed on Three.
“How about ice cream?”
Three covered herself in a blanket and responded with a muffled, “No.”
Warden White’s grip on my arm tightened, before putting me back in my cage and locking me in.
He cared about Three, that much was clear, but I needed to see how amenable to suggestion he was.
I decided to press my luck. “Her mood might improve if she was allowed outside. Some sunshine would do her good.”
Warden White gave a halfhearted smile, patted me on the shoulder through the bars, then turned to leave.
“I take that as a no, then?”
White’s expression didn’t change as he beeped the buttons on the alarm next to the door.
Raising my voice, I pressed on, “What’s the point in keeping her here if I have what you need?”
White’s hand twitched as he reached for the handle. It was so slight, I almost missed it.