Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Nestore stretched out his hand, slowly, his chest heaving from the effort and agony, until his fingertips passed the bars between our cells.
I looked at them for a few heartbeats, at the blood sticking to them, before I inched my fingers toward his. A small sigh passed Nestore’s lips when our fingers touched.
This slight touch symbolized the fragility of my will to live. I wasn’t sure how Nestore had survived for so long without any hope for escape or a better future.
“Stay,” he croaked.
I blinked. I will. I wasn’t sure if I’d said the word or only thought it, but Nestore understood me without many words.
I didn’t want to die, but I knew I couldn’t live in this eternal darkness forever. We both needed a miracle. I wished I believed in them.
Amelia lay curled up on the pallet, covered in the blanket. Her nightgown wouldn’t dry down here. It was too dank.
Her red hair tumbled down the edge of the bed. She didn’t belong in here. I wished I could save her. I spent almost every waking moment I was alone fantasizing about how I’d torture and kill her father, but sometimes, very rarely, my dreams were filled with images of a future with Amelia. The darkness inside my chest was almost crushing, and I had no way to unleash it. I wondered when it would simply burst out of me.
The door creaked open, and my body filled with adrenaline as my flight instinct kicked in. I had learned to hide my terror, but it still filled me every time the door opened. It rarely meant anything good.
I was surprised to see Flavia Lamorgese enter the cell. I hadn’t seen her since my birthday party. She was heavily pregnant. Bruises bloomed on her face and covered her arms. Her gaze passed me by and latched onto Amelia. Worry and fear clouded her expression. “Is she…?”
“Asleep,” I rasped.
Her eyes met mine, and she sighed. “I warned her to stop visiting you, but she wouldn’t listen. And for what?”
I held her gaze. “I’d put my life down for her.”
She scowled. “You’ll both die down here!” She choked up and swallowed hard, then her face became hard. “I have clothes and food for her.”
“Considering the state of your face, I’d recommend you don’t sneak down here either.” I didn’t really care for her fate, but Amelia often talked kindly about her and obviously cared about her stepmother, so I felt compelled to warn her.
“He knows. He wants her well enough so he can torture you both.” Her voice broke, and her shoulders slumped. “She shouldn’t have risked it for you.”
“I know,” I said.
She regarded me as if to gauge my sincerity, then quickly looked away. I wondered what she saw in my face that scared her so much. She slid a heap of clothes and a plastic plate with sandwiches into Amelia’s cell. After a moment of hesitation, she took one of the sandwiches.
“Don’t,” I said.
“She’ll share her food with you anyway.”
“She will, but she won’t believe you gave it to me and will insist on sharing more of her food with me.”
She put the food back down and rose to her feet. Her eyes lingered on Amelia. “I’ll try to talk him into letting her go. She still has worth for him if he marries her off. It’s better than dying down here.”
Jealousy reared its head. The idea that Amelia would marry someone else felt like a dagger in my chest, but Flavia was right. If that meant Amelia would get out of here alive, then I’d choose that option.
“Why did he send you down here?” I asked.
“To punish me for helping you.”
“Looks like he punished you already.” I motioned to her many bruises.
She shuddered. “You know very well that’s nothing.”
I did. She left without another word, and I sank on my bed to keep an eye on Amelia, even if there was nothing I could do. Soon, her body shook with nightmares. I got up, ignoring the pain in my side, and walked over to the bars. “Amelia, wake up.” She didn’t wake.
“Wake up!”
She jerked up with wide eyes. The terror in them reminded me of the beginning of my captivity. How often had I woken with my pulse pounding in my ears and my heart threatening to burst out of my rib cage? This primal fear had become a part of me, and in some ways, it had lost its threat. Pain and torture were part of my reality. I didn’t know how I’d ever existed without them.
I wanted to say “You’re safe,” but she wasn’t, and I didn’t want to lie to her. Her blue eyes settled on me, and she smiled. Smiled as if we both weren’t doomed to rot in this dank basement, as if pain and misery wouldn’t be part of the rest of our lives.