And her name is…
Chapter eighteen - Sweet Dreams

She moves quick and quiet for someone so small, and I’m immediately aware how out of shape I am. She leads me back up the stairs but moves passed the room I’d woken up in. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“We each have a room, and a room for a guest,” she explains. “I’m giving you my guest room. Tiago is on the other side.Ignacio has the first room in this hall followed by his guest room, and then it’s Ealdian, his guest room, Ricard and his, Vera and her’s, then mine, yours and Tiago’s, followed by his spare. The end two are for North and his guest room, which never gets used because he has no friends.” She let’s out a small laugh and then opens the door and ushers me inward.

The room is just like the one I woke up in, but gratefully smaller. It still has a small bathroom attached with a shower and tub combo, and there’s a standing wardrobe against the wall in the corner in place of a closet. She closes the door behind me and goes to check the windows, making sure they’re locked and then checks inside the wardrobe and under the bed like I’m a child. I love her for it all the more.

“The room you woke up in was Ignacio’s guest room. They weren’t really sure where to bring you, and he acted rashly getting you to sleep, but apparently you needed it because you slept so long. We were all worried when you didn’t wake up after the trip, but thought waking up in a medical bay would be pretty jarring and it was the closest room to get to,” she informs me without me having to ask.

“That’s the room his brother will stay in when he arrives at the end of the week. I had some of the ladies gather things in your size,-“ she gestures back to the wardrobe, “-it isn’t much, but it’ll be enough to get you through for a bit. There’s a group of people here wholoveto sew and design clothes, and the second they see you tomorrow they will be thrilled to dress you. Don’t even worry about it, I know you’re already worried about the trouble and about them not fitting when you’re healthier. Stop that. They really do enjoy it and honestly will probably have contests to make your favourite thing.”

She was right; I was worrying abut gaining weight and making them start all over. It’s why the prison clothes were held together with so many ties. One size to fit all. They didn’t want to be bothered with fitting me, or anyone else, and as I lost the weight the bows just got bigger and bigger.

I nod, looking for words but I can’t find them before Nyx is speaking again. “Everything I think you’d want is in the bathroom, anything else please ask me. Again, my room is right next door,-“ she bends her body with her arms tucked up in front of her to point, like a crescent moon, towards the bathroom that fits in the space between our rooms beside her own bathroom. “You can walk around and explore if you wanted, but I know you won’t, so I’ll come knock on your door in the morning to collect you for breakfast.”

I’m just nodding as she moves to the door, listing of some of the clothes and night clothes she saw in the wardrobe. She tells me that there are extra blankets in the ottoman at the end of the bed, and then she’s in my arms. I’m hugging her. Holding her tightly to me and her arms join around me faster than I expect. I thought she would be surprised or pull away but she doesn’t. She holds me until I loosen my grip and then slowly let’s go at a pace that matches my release of her.

When we’ve parted I’m biting my lip to keep from letting her see what she knows I’m feeling and I nod once.

“Good night, Theodosine. I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiles sweetly, and I try to return it.

“Night Nyx.”

When she’s gone I close and lock the door, and then check every inch of the room that she already had. I’m glad she did it, and I’m sure that if she found anything she would have said so, but I don’t know anything one hundred percent. I return to the wardrobe when I’m done, carefully examining every article of clothing before find a shirt and pants that look comfortable enough to sleep in.

I get dressed then move to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Then I sit in the middle of the bed, on top of the covers, and try to stuff every emotions I have back into that box in my mind.

Not yet. I will not cry yet. I can still save them. Even if its just four. Even if it’s only one person. I will save them. And then me not letting myself die after everything I’ve been through will be worth it.

I don’t know how many hours it’s been when I finally lay down but I can’t sleep. My eyes burn with exhaustion but the room is too big, and every time I close my eyes I feel twelve staring back at me. I debate the bathtub or the wardrobe, but ultimately the wardrobe wins out by not having a slight echo and being so nearly to Nyx.

I take a pillow and a blanket and climb inside it, closing the door with a gentle *click* of the magnets. Half an hour later I reemerge to stack two glass cups from the bathroom behind the door to the hall, the first one with the rim on the floor and their two bases together. Then I check the windows again and return to the closet.

I feel better, and drift to sleep almost instantly, but that’s mostly due to exhaustion.

—

When I open my eyes and see my cell my chest falls on a breath but race with my heart rate. The metal of the table I’m strapped to makes me shiver, and the only barrier between me and it is the chest wrap and underwear. Kheliq is standing beside me, grinning with a purpose- and I remember what day this was. I look down at my hands, and one of them is covered in wraps died with my blood. He’s reminding me just how fragile our bodies are with a lesson on my anatomy, like I don’t know.

His words, however, are barely understandable to me. I’ve already passed out once due to the pain, and my hand aches terribly. Every time I try to move my fingers, to clench my hands and rub the sore appendages wth my thumb, I’m reminded that they’re bound to sticks and wrapped with uneven tension. They will heal crooked with lumps like an old knotted tree.

He says something and I don’t reply, so the next sound I make is a scream of pain as he snaps my smaller finger. My mind is growing fuzzy again, and I wonder if I’ll pass out before he does the ring finger. Iwishthat I could pass out before he moves on, but I don’t. With each snap he chuckles and compares it to breaking a root vegetable before it’s been cooked. Then he muses about boiling me, but decided getting a tub down all those stairs isn’t worth it for me.

I’m glad I’m not seen as worth it.

When he breaks the middle finger on my right hand I’m a sweaty mess, and he is more than pleased. Then he moves to a small table he’s wheeled in and starts to bind them all to sticks I swear he found in the courtyard. He takes his time like he’s weaving some masterpiece and then leans in really closely to my ear.

“I forgot one,” he hisses, and snaps my remaining finger.

I open my mouth to scream but feel a finger pressed to my lips. My head whips to the side and I see myself, looking serious and staring back at me strongly. I don’t look how I feel; I look strong, I look better. I look how I used to before all of this happened.

“Don’t scream, you’ll wake the others,” I urge, then I’m sitting up in the closet, gasping for air like I’ve held my breath all night.

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