Chapter 37
Thirty-seven
Zellie
Time stretches endlessly here. It wasn’t at first. Not when I kicked and screamed and thrashed against my holdings with everything I had.
I learned quickly, though, that those actions didn’t fare well for me.
Pluto was smart. I’m bound by something magical, something enchanted.
This isn’t normal rope. Maybe I should be grateful—it doesn’t chafe, it likely isn’t bruising.
But, stars, does it burn. I spend most of my days chained to the wall, my hands stretched above my head and tied tightly.
The conditions are abysmal at best, if I’m being honest. The room is windowless with a single, flickering orb light.
It’s small, tinier than my chamber back on Lunara.
There’s room for me, a pot to relieve myself, and a guest.
I spend most of my days praying there isn’t a guest.
Sometimes they’re gracious, allowing my arms to be unchained.
This always happens hours after my limbs have lost feeling, of course.
The pain of feeling returned to them is excruciating, but nowhere near as bad as the pain they inflict on me.
Most of the time, the orb light remains off, covering me in darkness.
I’ve become a creature of the night. It’s okay, though, I’d rather not see.
Sometimes they feed me—nasty slop, likely contaminated or laced with something.
When I’m feeling brave, or exceedingly starved, I’ll attempt to eat it.
That usually ends with me covered in my own vomit.
So then I’ll protest, refusing—but they punish me for that, too.
It’ll be days before the next bowl of greige slop arrives.
I’m coated in a sheen of gritty sweat, my hair matted down against my face.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, and when it does, the nightmares are almost worse than being alive.
Almost. I feel delusional. Is it the lack of sleep?
The constant pain and injuries? Lack of food and water?
Or maybe it’s just staring at these fucking walls and the solid bars preventing me from escaping.
Maybe soon I’ll deteriorate enough to slip through the slim cracks.
The thought makes me laugh—a raspy, dry sound that sounds foreign to my ears.
It’s been a while since Pluto visited, or perhaps it has been him all along.
His face isn’t covered when he comes to visit.
It’s the masked figures that you need to be scared of.
I don’t know what he’s waiting for; why he’s keeping me alive. Why hasn’t he killed me yet?
I wish he would.
I lean my head against the rough wall behind me, sliding my legs close to my body.
My arms stretch above me as far as they can, screaming with the extended effort.
I swallow, manifesting some saliva to coat my airways.
My tongue is as good as cement in my mouth, the lack of water drying me from the inside out.
I exhale slowly through my nose, keeping my eyes trained on the thick iron bars in front of me.
Seeing them coming doesn’t make it any better, but it beats being surprised.
The soft thud of steps increases in volume. Despite my efforts not to, sweat gathers at the back of my neck, my body trembling. He tries to quiet himself—to surprise me, throw me off guard. Those steps are never good.
“Zellie! Lovely evening tonight, isn’t it?” My magic flares violently inside of me, but with these fucking magic cords holding me, it has no place to go. It’s almost as if the restraints are a lid, forcing and pushing my magic down within me. Pluto’s knowing smirk tells me he knows it, too.
“Is it? I wouldn’t know.” The words scrape my throat on their way out.
He twirls the key on his finger, leaning against the cell walls that hold me in.
“What do you think we should do with you, Zellie?” I don’t respond—that was a rhetorical question, right?
“After all the turmoil you’ve created and stirred,” he tuts, “There wasn’t an uprising before you came along.
A poor choice on my part, thinking you would be a willing and active participant in the Games.
Look at what you’ve become.” Looking down on me, he shakes his head in disappointment.
“I didn’t ask for any of this. You shouldn’t have forced us to partake in the first place.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with this conversation. Let’s try a new one, shall we?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Where is it, Zellie?”
“Where is what?”
The key stops spinning. “You took something from me. Something you have no business having in your possession.”
“Does it look like I have anything in my possession?” I know better than to be this bold.
“Where is it?”
It has to be true, then, for him to be this distraught about its location.
A smile lights up my face, my insides, knowing it is out of reach. That Orion and the others got away safely with the tome. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“A shame. We could have had a peaceful conversation, Zellie. Let’s go play, then.
See what type of power really lies inside of you,” he moves closer, running a finger down my cheek.
I flinch away instinctively, turning my head away from his beady eyes but he grabs my face forcefully, turning it toward him.
“Either you’ll be singing about the tome’s location, or your magic will be.
Either way, I look forward to the symphony. ”
I’ve never hated music more.