CHAPTER 28
Astrid
Sparks never returned after the gunshots. Four of them in quick succession. She cried out my name, desperately pleading for me to do something, anything.
I tried.
I threw my shoulder into the door, clawed at the rivets until my fingernails bled, banged against the walls constricting me. I was trapped, but I tried, oh, I tried.
I failed. I couldn’t save her. Food fell through the slat of my door what felt like several hours later, but I couldn’t touch it.
Was Sparks… was she… dead? I sat in the back of my crate, hugging my arms to my chest. Her screams echoed through my mind on repeat, endlessly swallowing any hope I had of her survival. I lost her.
Food falls through the slot, joining my discards from yesterday.
Another stale roll, some dried meat, and spoiled fruit – this one seems to be a cantaloupe.
But no water, never any water. My throat is parched, whether it’s from the lack of water or from my unceasing howls, I don’t know. I don’t care.
I huddle in the corner, my grief all-consuming. I barely notice the ache of my ribs, bruised from the beating. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters without her.
She wanted to run, flee to San Francisco.
She begged me, pleaded on her knees, went so far as to step onto the train.
But she got off. God, why did I let her get off?
This is my fault. I forced her to go to Synergy Labs with me.
I insisted on attending the gala. I didn’t take her warnings seriously, but she’s the one who paid the price.
Footsteps thud on the wooden planks. They killed her. They killed Sparks. I had just gotten her back, and they took her from me.
The door opens and I leap out, tackling the man who had the misfortune of standing in the front. I claw at this face, but the other men drag me off before I can wrap my hands around his throat.
“You killed her!” I scream, thrashing like a feral animal. “How could you? You fucking monsters, I’ll kill you for this. I’ll kill you all!”
They ignore my threats, cuffing my hands behind my back and hauling me into the second room. The room where they killed her. The door opens, and I am spurred out of my murderous rage by the blood.
God, there’s so much blood. On the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The dried crimson stained the floor where it pooled after flowing out of her body. How is there so much blood?
“No, no, no!” I fall to my knees, tears streaming down my face.
What did they do to her? She didn’t scream, not until after the gunshots.
How did they do this to her without me hearing her cries?
I know, deep in my heart, that she forced herself to be quiet, trying to spare me from the torment of listening to her die.
It must have infuriated Chadwick. He’s not here. Probably off torturing other victims.
Heels click on the floor. I whirl around to see the lady from the gala walking into the room, unbothered by the gore coating the room. Marissa.
“You killed her!” I struggle in my restraints, wanting desperately to lash out at the bitch responsible. “You killed Sparks!”
“No. We didn’t.” Marissa straightens out her pantsuit, not even bothering with her plastic facade. She knows she won.
“Yes, you did!” I screech. “I heard her! I heard the gunshots!”
“What else did you hear?” She looks up at me, staring intently into my eyes. I don’t want her fake interest. Instead I hang my head, wailing heartbrokenly.
“There’s so much blood.” I don’t know if she can understand me as the sobs rack my body. It doesn’t matter. Sparks is dead.
“Relax, sweetie,” Marissa says pretentiously. “It’s not all hers. Besides, she’s still alive.” My head whips up, my eyes glaring into hers. “We just moved her to a more secure facility. She’s quite a handful you know.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, I just stare at her. I can’t read her neutral expression. She could be lying, she could be telling the truth. I have no way of knowing.
“Prove it,” I snarl, disdain dripping from my voice.
“Oh, Astrid.” She crouches next to me, condescendingly. She runs a finger along my jaw. “I don’t have to. You’re in no position to make any demands.”
I hope she gets blood on her precious pantsuit. I hope the blood is hers.
“Now, let’s start today’s lesson.”
At her words, every man in the room pulls out a gun and points it directly at my head. I flinch as Marissa takes a plastic cup of water and flings it at my face. The liquid drips from my eyelashes onto the wooden planks below.
“Make me a sphere the size of a marble,” Marissa orders. “Use your powers.”
What? That’s easy. I gather the water into an orb.
It hovers a few inches off the floor. Marissa tuts and shakes her head.
Out of nowhere, a foot connects with my ribs.
My prior injuries flare, and I cry out as the water splashes back to the floorboards.
A hand yanks on my hair, forcing me to look at Marissa.
“That was a golf ball,” she taunts. “I said marble. Again.”
I hesitantly reach out again, forming a smaller sphere. It doesn’t pass. A fist connects with my lower jaw, and I spit the blood from my mouth onto the floor.
“If I wanted a blueberry, I’d ask for it!” She seethes. “Marble! Now!”
I struggle to hold the next orb still, shaking as I avert my eyes, bracing for the inevitable fail I would receive.
Too big. Too small. Too round. Not round enough.
Eventually, Marissa becomes bored with her game and deems one of my spheres to be close enough.
My shoulders droop and I hang limply from the two men holding me on my knees.
They shrug and let go, and I fall to the ground, the blood from my split skin mixing with what might be Sparks’s.
“Take her back to her cell.” Marissa saunters away, her heels clicking on the wood as she goes.
I curl into a ball, sobbing as more food is shoved through the slot. I know I need to eat. My options are limited when I’m malnourished and weak. But… I’m already weak. Sparks made me promise to not let them break me, to keep fighting.
Sparks is gone.
Maybe alive. Maybe dead. Maybe escaped. I hope she’s halfway to San Francisco by now.
I hope she rides the trolley and looks out at the ocean, thinking of me from time to time.
I hope she gets the chance to heal, let her guard down, allow joy and happiness a place in her life.
But that’s a pipe dream because there’s no way she made it out alive.
She’s dead, and I’m alone. I wish I was there to hold her, stroke her hair as she closed her eyes for the last time.
I hate myself for this, but selfishly, I wish she were still alive, back here with me. I wish she was here to tell me to be strong, even if I ignore her. I wish she was telling me stories about princesses who bottle up sunshine. I wish she were here. I reach my hand toward the cool metal wall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There’s no response.
There’s no response again, ever again. The hours blur into days, the days blur into nothingness. The beatings continue. The impossible tests relentlessly mock my abilities. The bloodstains remain.
I stop fighting, barely ducking away from the blows that continually rain down.
I pick at my food, only eating when the hunger is so intense that its pain is worse than all of the others consuming my body.
I’m sorry, Sparks. I’m not as strong as you.
You died with all of your fire still burning.
I’m still alive, yet only a charred husk of me remains.
Knock. Knock. Knock.