Chapter 14
All I can smell is copper and cleaning chemicals. Nothing else permeates my senses.
My arms shake, my body so cold that the constant pain intensifies, amplifying every ache. The cuffs around my wrists have ground into my skin, and I swear I can feel the bite of metal against bone.
The crack of the hundred-and-sixteenth lash against my back rips a scream from my throat.
It’s not even the slash of the whip that does me in, but the freezing salt water poured over the wounds after each and every one.
When the splash comes, I pull hard against my restraints, and even though I know it’s futile, I try to break free.
My knees can’t spread any wider than they already are, and since I’ve been in this position for who knows how long, I’ve lost the ability to move my legs.
The stone beneath my bare skin feels warm compared to everything else, and I just wish I could have had a blanket to help with how violently my body shakes.
Heat would make the pain go away. I swear it would…
“Twenty more to go, Witch.”
“P-Please!” My voice jumps as another snap of the whip comes.
The moment my head drops, someone grabs my face and forces it upward. “Stay awake, or you’ll have to take more.”
My tears fall faster, snot sliding down to my lips. “Please! M-Make it stop… Please… I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
The next strike comes quickly, my hips thrusting forward as if I can escape the inevitable. When the water hits, my scream shakes through my entire frame.
“You act like you don’t deserve this.”
I cry out over and over again, because that’s all I can do. All I want is to pass out and wake up alone, left to be swallowed by the lifetime of loneliness I thought was coming. I’d take that over this treatment.
I don’t deserve this! I didn’t… do it. I didn’t…
I stare at myself in the mirror, my long white hair soaking wet and draped down my bare body. My gaze stops on my chest as I breathe slowly, and I hate that when I catch sight of my stomach, I can quite literally see my bones.
I’d always had a full, pear-shaped frame. I’ve lost every ounce of fat and muscle I once had, which makes me look more like a damn skeleton than a living creature.
I’d question if I was alive if it wasn’t for my beating heart I can feel pounding in my veins, and the dark lining around my eyes makes me look tired—well, I guess… I am.
Tilting my head, I outstretch my hand and press my finger against the glass right at my nose. The scar across it seems far darker than it was the first time I looked in a mirror just a few days ago.
I wonder what he was staring at… Definitely not you.
A knock has me dropping my arm and reaching for the scratchy robe on the back of the bathroom door. I step out and look through the peephole to see Atlas standing on the other side.
I’m glad it’s not Kayn. Him looking at me like he had earlier made me… feel.
I tie the robe tight around my waist and slowly open the front door. I hide behind it and peek through the foot-or-so opening I make. “Yes?”
He smiles sweetly and raises a brown bag. “Dinner?” Swallowing, I reach out to grab it, but he pulls back. “Hey, this has both ours in it—you have to share.”
Looking over my shoulder, I spot the small round table and two torn-up leather chairs on either side.
“Okay…”
“Great!” He quite literally barrels through the door and brushes past me. “I’m so glad Butcher doesn’t need to sleep. There’s only one bed, and I’m not into that.” As he passes my single full bed, I shut the door and follow him.
He plops himself down onto one of the chairs and drops the very heavy, greasy bag onto the table. Pulling out the seat adjacent to him, I sit slowly. He doesn’t hesitate to open the container and set it in front of me to take from.
“You need to eat. I got you a burger, chicken sandwich, and some nuggets.” He then grabs his own burger, immediately unwraps it, and takes a bite. “Fuck me, that’s good.”
The smell of grease actually makes me queasy, so I reach for a fry and take a bite. It’s kind of dry, and not very salty, which I’m not a fan of.
I’m going back in for another fry when he snatches the bag and rummages through it. “They better not have forgotten the ketchup—those assholes!” He dumps the rest of the innards out, and lo and behold, there aren’t any packets.
“It’s fine.” I finish the unsavory potato in my hand.
He bites down again on his bacon and cheese burger. “They forgot the sodas, too. Delivery drivers—can’t trust ’em.”
I reach for a box and open it, finding chicken nuggets; slightly too crispy, but better than the burger.
“Eat up, don’t be shy.” His voice is slightly muffled by his half-full mouth.
“I can’t eat that much. I need to take it slow. I’m already ready to throw up.” Bringing the chicken to my lips, I bite without thinking. The last thing I ate consciously was the chips and salsa from the taco shop after shopping at the thrift store. Even that felt like too much.
He swallows and leans back, holding his burger with one hand and tapping his fingers against his crossed leg. “How many times did you eat every day?”
I shrug. “It’s hard to say. I ate whenever my standing time was over.”
“And how long was that?”
“If I calculated it correctly, based on the shift changes, I believe eighteen hours.”
He begins choking.
“In the six hours I was allowed to sit, I had to eat, sleep… and take whatever punishment that day brought.”
Quite literally pounding on his chest, he sits up and reaches for an invisible glass of nothing. “Shit.”
“There are bottles of water in the mini-fridge. Unsure if they’ve been opened or not… They don’t seem new.”
He gets up and rushes to the black box sitting under the tube television. At first, I hadn’t even noticed it—it blends so well into the dark wooden unit. Once he grabs a bottle, I look back at the food in front of me and reach for a fry.
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Amarah—” See, when he says my name, it does nothing for me. It’s just more of an inconvenience that he knows it when I didn’t directly give it to him. Now, when Butcher says it… fuck, my insides feel good. Too fucking good. “How long was that going on for?”
“Since I was put into the cell.”
“Alright, that is why I’m surprised. You had to endure that for seven years? Were the punishments what gave you those scars on your back?”
I bite so hard on the inside of my cheek I pierce the skin, tasting blood instantly.
“You… didn’t tell Butcher about those, right?”
“Pfft, no.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. That’s his friend, and imagining him not saying anything seems idiotic of me. I’ll trust my gut and assume Atlas spilled it to the brute.
“So was it?”
I shove a piece of food into my mouth, giving myself a few seconds before I have to answer. “No. The lashes were part of the sentencing.”
“That isn’t something normal in our judicial system.”
“I’m not a normal criminal…”
He hums. “Then what were the other punishments?”
When I narrow my eyes at him, he throws his hands up—one holding his burger, the other greasy. His chagrined expression is… endearing. He’s handsome. Definitely someone that would’ve caught my eye before everything happened.
“Color me curious. Not many can say they’ve had a conversation with someone in Thornegate. Just a little insight.”
Sighing heavily, I grab a napkin. “No, Atlas.”
He releases a long, “Aww, come onnn.”
“We aren’t friends.”
I can’t believe the hurt that comes over him. What? We’ve known one another for a day.
I begin unfolding the burger, and the moment just a smidge of the oil gets on my fingers, I immediately push it away. Plus, there’s cheese on it.
“I need to work up to eating anything that heavy.” I force down a hard swallow. “You can have it.”
He doesn’t hesitate to reach across and pull it to his side. “Keep eating the fries then. They’re dry as fuck, but sustenance.”
I nod and do just that.
“The days we were in the hospital, the nurses and staff kept looking at both Butcher and me weirdly. I chalked it up to him being a massive Vampire in a sea of small Mundanes and a few Shifters. Turns out, they must’ve seen the scars.”
I simply agree and continue eating slowly, moving between the fries and the nuggets. I’ve got about three of each down when I reach for his water. He pushes it toward me and smiles.
“We are sharing a drink. I think that makes us friends. Friends share things.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a sip, immediately regretting it. Not only is there ChapStick on the rim, but I can practically taste the burger.
“If it helps you open up, I don’t think them lashing you that many times is… right.” His voice turns soft, and when I look at him, his expression matches the somberness. “How many times?”
Dragging my tongue across my top teeth, I chew on my cheek before answering. “One-hundred-thirty-six.”
His eyes bulge.
“One for each kid murdered that day.”
For a moment, I have to think if I had the number correct, because the look he gives me confuses me. His brows pinch hard, and his eyes narrow incredulously.
“What?”
“How you worded that. Don’t you mean, ‘How many kids I murdered that day’.”
“Yeah… isn’t that what I said?”
He picks up his water, taking a long sip before running the back of his palm across his lips. “One for each kid murdered that day.”
I roll my lips together, doing my best to seem confused by his uncertainty.
“I killed that day. I missed a word, sorry.”
A laugh rolls right between his grinning lips. “He was right,” he says, bringing the burger back to his mouth and taking a bite. While chewing, he chuckles. “You’re good at concealing.”
We sat in silence for the rest of the meal.
I didn’t touch more than one additional fry before he was packing everything back into the bag—trash and uneaten food—and heading out of the room.
He bid me goodnight, saying they’d both be back around five in the morning to get me.
That would only give me a few hours of sleep; by the time I crawled into bed, the bright red clock read 12:04.
I shut my eyes, feeling the roughness of the white sheets and the extremely hard pillow attempt to cradle me. It doesn’t work, and I just toss and turn.
There wasn’t anything to dress my forearm, so I was forced to use a… whatever the medium fucking towels are. It isn’t for the face, but it won’t even wrap fully around my tiny frame. So like, what’s it for?
Just the thought of how irritated I was over the damn thing has me shifting my arm outward, putting it as far away from me as possible.
The medicine should fix my arm over the next couple days… Still, it’s frustrating I can’t heal my own wounds.
I watch the clock tick for an hour when I feel a brush against the threaded bond.
“Amarah?”
Gods, I wish he would stop reaching out to me. I’m just going to ignore him. He can’t tell the difference anyway. I’d heard him before when he reached out right after the crash, and he was none the wiser.
“Are you awake?”
For Vayl’s sake, I wish I wasn’t.
“You better have eaten.”
Great, scolding me like some child. He sounds drunk, the soft slur at the end of each sentence different from his normally smooth, husky voice.
“You need your strength.”
I’m fully aware of that, thanks.
“Are you really asleep?” Gods he’s persistent! I’m not giving in, and he’ll just have to move on. “Good.”
Fucking good.
“Your eyes remind me of the person I’m looking for.
” Holy Vendra herself, my heart nearly stops.
“I wish I could reach out to that person like this, to have a bond with them. Everything I’m doing is to get them back to me, and I’ll do everything to make it happen.
You’ll eat when food’s given to you. You’ll rest when you can.
You’ll do as I say, and once I get what I want, so will you.
Then we can be done. We will never see each other again, as you said to Atlas. ”
My bottom lip trembles.
Resting on my side, I curl my knees up to my chest. That’s what’s going to happen regardless, but my Gods, does it pull tight on that thread between us.
I need Vendra to break it, because I shouldn’t feel this ache.
“Amarah?”
Goodnight, Butcher.
“Ama—” I throw up a wall and shut him out. I should’ve done that the moment he reached out, but stupidly I kept listening.
Shutting my eyes, I hear my mother’s voice, just after my eighteenth birthday:
“Your chosen bond is your other half, Amarah darling. It’s sacred, and never to be given lightly.
It was easy for me with your father nearly twenty-five hundred years ago.
We were destined to be together, but for you, it will be more difficult given the times we are in.
So, give it time and don’t rush it. While the bonds that tie to your mated will be beautiful and raw, the pain that can come with it can be just as strong.
Remember, we can only bond once, so make sure they’re the one. ”
It’s not even that it’s been wasted that hurts.
It’s knowing I’ll never get that feeling my mother had.
I’m not going to pretend I was better off in that cell, but I can’t lie to myself that I’m better out here. Because I’m just as trapped.
Damn my fate, and damn you, Kayn, for making it fucking worse.