I NEVER SAW the faces of the men who took me.
Before being dragged to my feet, a black bag had been yanked down over my head, blinding me. The instant I attempted to retaliate against the restraining hands, my arms were pulled painfully behind my back, my wrists shackled by something metal. I remembered my injured arm screaming in agony as they forced me to my knees, but before I could cry out something hard was shoved into my side. Whatever it was shocked me with a voltage so high I was eventually rendered unconscious. Little did I know, that moment of comatose sleep was the only peace I would know for a long time.
When I awoke, I was here. Though I couldn’t be sure exactly where “here” was. Undoubtedly, it was some kind of prisoner’s holding chamber… but to me, it felt more like hell.
Everything but the ceiling was polished a perfectly glossy white. When I first roused, the smooth surface was soothing beneath my raw fingers, but I quickly realized the finish wasn’t just for aesthetics. I sat up. Seconds after my head left the floor, hell opened its fiery gates. The entirety of the small room was devoured in a blinding white light emanating from exposed bulbs that lined the open ceiling. At first, I covered my eyes and recoiled, but no matter how I tried to block it out, the light still seeped in. Even behind my hands, my eyelids glowed a translucent red as I squeezed them shut. Purple veins shown through my thin skin. Sweat began to pour from my body at an alarming rate, my clothing becoming soaked almost immediately.
I buried my head in my arms.
If only it would stop.
As if the blazing light wasn’t bad enough, the music started. Not that the blaring noise could really be considered music. It was as if five songs were all being played at the same time, each one competing to be heard above the others. The sound was so loud it made my eardrums ache. Surely they would start bleeding if they weren’t already. But if I moved to protect my ears, the light pierced though my closed lids again, making my head feel like it was on fire. Eventually, I compromised by huddling with my back against the wall while pressing my eyes into my knees and keeping my arms wrapped around my head.
In truth, it made little difference.
Through the constant onslaught, it was nearly impossible to think. Even my own name was becoming harder to remember. Only one thought kept rattling loose as the torture went on. They weren’t going to ask me questions, to seek out my alliance like the Subversive once had. These people were going to break me and see what they could scrape off the floor.
I had to remind myself that I chose this.
That there was a reason I was here.
They were safe.
They were not being tortured like I was.
Sacrifice. What a heady notion. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time…
It still was. I reminded myself.
I tried to picture the faces I was fighting to see again, the loved ones I had tried to save but it was so hard to focus.
I had a flash of memory, a glimpse of their terrified eyes pleading with me through that sewer grate. I know I had promised Triven I would stay alive, promised that I would survive this. But even now as I tried to think of him, his image began to slip away. Not even Mouse’s round, sweet face could penetrate this unending mental and physical torture.
I was tough, always had been. My survival in Tartarus was proof of that. But this, this was killing me.
Less than a week ago, if someone had told me I would miss my time in the Subversive’s underground bunker, I would have laughed. But today, today I did miss it. Soft beds, warm food, friends—well, not friends exactly, allies might have been a better word. Yes, there were enemies there too, but at least they had been civilized. More civilized than the Tribes.
More civilized than this.
The people of the Subversive didn’t trust me, certainly not at first. (I still didn’t trust half of them.) But over time, I had earned their respect and they eventually looked to me for counsel. They were why I was here in the first place—a botched recon mission.
They had sent us out to infiltrate The Wall and report back what we had found. No outsiders had seen The Sanctuary in six years and six years was a long time. We had come in blind, not know what we would find here. Was it the city their leader, Arstid, remembered and had risked her life to escape? Or had it changed? Best-case scenario, we would find a city that had overthrown their tyrant. A place where every day wasn’t a battle to survive. A place where the refugees of Tartarus could live in freedom.
While I too desired freedom, answers were what I really sought. Answers about who I was and why my parents had given their lives to get me out. Either way, anything had to be better than Tartarus, better then hiding from the Tribes. Or so I thought.
Slowly, my body began to shut down. The steady ache in my lower back hinted my kidneys were most likely failing. The survival books I had once filched from Tartarus’ library taught me what these symptoms might mean and none of it was good news for me. Every ounce of water had been drained from my body, pooling beneath me and clinging to my clothing. And no matter how badly I wanted it, no glass of water was going to magically appear to quench my parched body. At some point, I slumped to the floor. I couldn’t remember doing it, and now that I was there, I couldn’t find the energy to sit up again. My tongue scraped dryly across my cracked lips seeking relief. The only thing it found was the tang of blood. Even my eyelids found it hard to blink without sticking.
My body was dying.
I was dying.
I knew I had promised someone I would survive for them, but I couldn’t hang on anymore. They would understand… right?
I had to let go…
My pulse was slowing, ready to give up.
Then just as suddenly as the onslaught had come, it stopped.
The world was plunged into utter blackness and the only sound I could hear was the painful ringing of my own ears.
At first, I loved the quiet. The dark felt cool on my parched blistered skin. The air no longer burned when I breathed. But that feeling of relief did not last. Soon the darkness became overwhelming. Its heaviness was crushing me, pressing in on my limbs, making it harder to breathe. In the light, at least I had a sense of being, but lying in the infinite blackness… it was as if I had just disappeared. As if a sea of nothingness had swallowed me whole. I wanted to curl myself into a ball, to wrap my arms around my knees, to hold myself together, but my body refused to move. Instead, I lay shivering in a pool of my own sweat. At one point, I vaguely remember my tongue desperately stabbing at the floor, seeking relief. The salty moisture did little to satiate my thirst. I wasn’t sure if it was the lack of heat from the lights or if the temperature in the room was actually dropping, but it was getting colder. Then, as the ringing in my ears finally started to fade, the screaming began.
They were so loud.
I tried to pull my hands up to cover my ears but one arm was trapped beneath my fallen body while the other barely fluttered in response. I couldn’t even lift my fingertips to scratch my nose much less cover my ears. Defeated, I did the only thing I could do and squeezed my eyes shut. As the screams echoed over and over, something familiar clawed at my mind. Slowly, I realized I knew these voices.
I struggled to understand. Were they hurting people I loved?
After what felt like an eternity, it clicked. The screams weren’t another tactic derived to torture me. They were my own personal form of torment.
They were in my head.
As I made that jarring realization, I could now not only hear them but also see their matching faces flashing behind my closed eyelids. My mother’s beautiful blood-spattered face was pale against her flowing blonde hair. Next was my father’s, his face twisted in pain that distorted his usually handsome features.
I was sleeping. I had to be.
I knew these nightmares.
I had lived with them for over six years, awoke to them every morning, relived them every night. But something was different now… They
had changed.
There was another face, a new face. Black eyes stared back at me, overflowing with fear as the man died. A river of blood poured from his mouth, its crimson fingers creeping toward me. It felt like I was drowning in it. I choked, unable to scream. Maddox died to save me and now his death would haunt me just like my parents’ did.
I tried to open my eyes, willing the ghastly apparitions to go away, but to my horror they were already open. In the darkness, there was no escaping the most tortured, inner workings of my mind. You can’t hide from what’s inside of you. The worst part about silence is that there’s nothing to distract your mind. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or closed. I saw them. With great effort, I curled in further on myself, trying to disappear, to become nothing. And that’s when the lights came back on, restarting the torturous cycle all over again. In the light I burned for my sins. In the dark they swallowed me whole.
Fire. Ashes. Rebirth.
New World Rising Page 41
