by Devon Ashley
Condescendingly, I sing, “Are you the court jester?”
His arm swings so fast I can’t react, even though I should have seen it coming. The back of his hand smacks the side of my face and my head swings violently into the cave wall. Jagged shards of rock slice my cheek and punch my forehead. Instant pain radiates from my head, which already hurt to begin with. My hand automatically reaches for the cheek that was struck, now inflamed with a steady burn. I dare not look back; part in fear, part in trying to control the tears trying to force their way out. I will not cry for them.
“My name is Finley,” the jerk adds. “And as a matter of fact, I am in the court system. I’m the Warden of this prison, though I usually don’t have to make an appearance. I don’t like to make an appearance. I detest this place and everything in it. But thanks to you, here I am.”
With my tears under control, I turn to face him, eyes glaring back with murderous passion.
“Maybe if you hadn’t imprisoned me wrongfully I wouldn’t be here to bother you with escape attempts.” His silence chills me to the bone. I’m not sure if he’ll strike me again, so my body immediately tenses, awaiting impact. When he doesn’t, I add, “I don’t belong here and you know it.”
He chuckles to himself and paces the diameter of the hole. The spriggan standing guard behind him sends an amused sneer my way. “You don’t belong here,” he replies, mocking me. “Tell me this, number sixty-eight. Has anyone come looking for you? Anyone at all?”
Anger flushes my cheeks, and my fists clinch on the sides of my body.
“You ran through the barrier easily enough. So you know anyone could have walked into the prison and saved you at any time. But they haven’t. Because you’re replaceable. Your Hollow never even sent a search party because you’re not worth the effort.
“You didn’t have a lover back home either, did you? Nor a family to stand up and fight for you.” He pauses dramatically and cocks his eyebrows, challenging me to correct him. He chuckles when I don’t. “Trust me. You’re right where you belong.”
I turn my gaze away, his words hurting me more than I like to admit, because no one has come for me. Or at least never found me. My chest takes on weight and my torso sinks lower to the ground.
“The quicker you admit that to yourself, the quicker I’ll let you out of this hole and put you back with your inmates. Got it, sixty-eight?”
Annoyed, I spit, “My name is Rosalie.”
He bends at the waist to level our eyes. They’re cold and dark and chilling. “You have no name. Just a number.”
I’m fuming inside, but decide silence is my best defense for the moment. When I refuse to take the bait, he rises and spins toward the spriggan. “I see you’ve already had your water ration for today. Here’s your fruit.” He pulls a mini strawberry from his pocket, but before I can even contemplate whether it’s worth reaching for, he drops it on the floor and squishes it with the sole of his shoe. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength for our session tomorrow.”
He roars with wicked laughter as he takes flight. The spriggan, with his eerie smile in the flickering shadows, grabs the lantern and ascends behind him, leaving me in darkness once again.
I debate a good ten minutes about whether or not to eat the strawberry. What he’s done is demeaning, but I can’t deny the hunger within. I missed breakfast the day I ran, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here; long enough my stomach seems annoyed over having food in front of me that I’m not eating.
I do the unthinkable and suck it up…literally. I try not to think about the number of pixies that have lain on this floor before me, possibly defecating in this very spot. The strawberry is a necessity if I’m to endure whatever Finley has in mind for me tomorrow. I find the strength to suck up a few water puddles as well, holding my nose so I won’t taste anything more. Luckily, I think my taste buds are still missing-in-action, so it’s only a matter of overcoming my mind that what I’m doing is disgusting.
Proud of myself for not being a complete pushover, I find a spot on the ground that doesn’t seem to poke any part of my body and allow myself to rest. No matter how much he pushes, no matter how much he hurts me emotionally or physically, I will not roll over and die easily. If he hates coming out here to deal with me, then I’ll make sure to ruin every damn day I have left in me.
I guess Finley couldn’t be bothered to come torture me yesterday because I’m certain more than a day has passed. Not even a spriggan came with food and water. Not surprising, really, considering they left me without sustenance for four days before. I pray they don’t do that again. Without someone to nurture me back to health, I’m as good as dead if left here in that condition.
I’m quietly lying on my side when I hear voices echoing in the distance. One voice snaps at another. Finley. My conviction is tested as my heart immediately panics and thumps madly within my chest. As the faerie and spriggan descend my prison and paint it with light, I find the courage to stand on my feet. I’m already three inches shorter than him; no point trembling like a caged animal.
He’s surprised to see me standing – or amused. I hate that I have to lean the back of one of my shoulders against the wall for support, and I think he knows it. But still, I will not cower. Willow told me no pixie ever came back the same, and eventually committed suicide. I know the road before me will be difficult and painful, probably demoralizing, but I will fight it to the best of my ability for as long as I can find the strength.
“Well, well, well. Someone’s got spunk. Perhaps we’re feeding you too much.”
I calm my nerves, releasing long, rhythmic breaths through my nose. I keep my reaction impassive.
“Any self-progress yet? Still believe you’re better than your fellow inmates?”
“I’m not better. Just more determined to fight for what’s rightfully mine.”
He shines one of those twisted half-smiles, making his cheek bulge. “Let’s see what we can do about that determination, eh?”
Finley cocks his head in my direction. The spriggan is lightning-quick to wrap his arms around me. I’m powerless against his grasp; one hand alone can reach all the way around my neck. I scream and thrash against his body with all my might, but he squeezes our chests together tightly, constricting my lungs and incapacitating my limbs. His hands splay against my spine and the vertebras pop down the line. I cringe in sickness as his fiery breath disgustingly licks the top of my head. I’d never been held by a male before, and this isn’t what I pictured for my first time. The spriggan keeps pushing against my spine, squeezing me so tight his own chest recedes to accept more of mine. My lungs strain madly, trying desperately to pump within an inch of space. Fire burns across my chest and my limbs begin to tingle. My legs weaken and jiggle in place. A wheezing noise escapes my mouth and the spriggan suddenly releases my body. I drop lifelessly to the floor, my lungs gasping at the chance to breathe once more.
Something rams hard into my back and I stumble forward. Before I can fight my way back up, the spriggan jumps on my back and holds me flush to the floor. Protuberances in the rock dig into my hip and left shoulder.
“Get off me!” I scream, twisting aggressively, regretting the movement as the rock tears at my flesh. I feel his hands snatch the base of my wings and every cell in my body screams in panic. “Noooo!” I choke.
I hear the deafening crack before I feel the sharp pain radiate from my upper wings and down the length of my spine. The screams, wet tears and chest convulsions are instantaneous, and as much as I try to contain them, I can’t. The veins in my wings overheat and a fiery burn encroaches the nerves of my spine, sending painful shivers throughout my body.
Finley’s laugh echoes cruelly. “Give it another break.”
I gasp before the spriggan returns pressure to my back and squishes me down. There’s a second crack, this time to the piece joining my lower wings. I want to scream, but until the spriggan decides to release his weight, all I can do is whimper. Tears flood my eyes and drench m
y face. My breaths come short and fast, unable to fill with any more air, and my midsection begins to cramp.
Finley leans down to my line of sight. My vision is blurry and distorted, so I actually see three sets of creepy smiles staring down at me. “Tell you what. Next time, if you haven’t realized you’re a nobody that belongs here, I’m going to have your wings broken in sixty-eight places. Just to get it through that thick head of yours.”
I close my eyes and moan, not caring if he sees it as defeat. He’d fare no better against this monstrous beast. I don’t remember them leaving or the cave fading to darkness. I only awake because a rush of water slaps the floor beside me and rebounds up and over my body. It drenches my wings, adding more weight to their delicate structure, and I scream as the two breaks shift downward, intensifying the steady pain. I pull my body into the fetal position and cry my heart out, letting it all out: the cries, the screams, the trembles; until the dark within the darkness takes me.
Something presses deep against my neck. It’s scratchy enough to snag my hairs and completely unwelcome, but my body doesn’t seem to react.
“Is it alive?” a gruff voice asks.
“Seems to be.”
Spriggans. Not Finley. Either way, I find any of their hands touching me disgusting. I snap my head and the hand retreats. I mutter, “Rosalie.”
One huffs, the other chuckles. A hard metal object suddenly crashes against my forehead and water drowns my head. For a second, my body jumps at attention, then succumbs to numbness immediately. Multiple soft thumps hit the floor before me, but I don’t open my eyes until the spriggans take off. Before the light fades, I notice several blueberries scattered across the floor. Lightning fast, I spring to collect every last one of them, ignoring the sharp pains and cramped muscles throughout my body. I also snag the bucket before all the water leaks out, catching ripples with my eyes before I’m in complete darkness again.
Blood trickles down my forehead. The only reason I know I’m bleeding is because I feel the warmth of the liquid coating my skin as it drips down the side of my face. I couldn’t care less in this moment. For the first time in days I have food and water that I haven’t had to suck off the ground. Three blueberries rock gently in my cupped hands. I sigh gently and indulge every succulent bite, even though I still can’t really taste anything. But in this moment I remember their flavor, and I swear I can almost taste the semi-sweet juice zapping the taste buds on my tongue back to life. When finished, I tip the bucket carefully and allow the remaining water to flow gently into my mouth. The first sip I swallow. The second I take the time to swish thoroughly around my mouth and wet my chalky dried-out lips. It’s been so long since I’ve brushed my teeth that I’ve almost become accustomed to the velvety overgrowth. I use my fingernails to scratch away as much residue as possible. I don’t even care that I swallow some of that crap, figuring it’s just one more thing that my stomach can digest.
I’m really not feeling well. Days without usable water and little to no food on a body that was stick-thin to begin with are making me waste away before my eyes. I laugh quietly to myself. Before my eyes. As if I can actually see the physical toll my body is going through. But I can feel it, particularly in my ribs and around my wrists. I didn’t have a lot of muscle left before I got thrown down here, but at least I was using them. Now that I’m stranded in a small roughly-shaped circular hole, it feels as if my body is eating away at what muscles I have left. I rub my fingers across my ribs. My skin’s not supposed to dip between each one like that… I want to rise and at least walk circles around my prison, but I’ve cut the soles of my feet too many times. They’re infected, and each step feels like I’m walking on shards of glass. The best I can muster is to stretch my legs and extend the muscles as far as they can go in either direction.
There’s not much left on my bones. If I don’t get out of here soon…
A yellowish glow begins bouncing down the walls and I groan. My captor, with his pompous leer and ridiculous dress descends in a halo of light that is anything but divine. My wings are incredibly sensitive but the intense pain buzzing through the nerves has faded enough for my mind to focus on other things. I dare not let Finley know this, and continue to feign pain so he may not be as brutal today.
He lands softly on his feet, disposes of the lantern to free his hands and prances the remaining steps between us, where I sit mostly in shadow. He hasn’t come with a spriggan today so maybe if I keep my mouth shut, nothing bad will happen. Of course I have to pinch my hands just to keep myself from gouging out his eyes when he leans in close enough to brush my nose. I’d back away if I wasn’t already pinned against the wall. He’s been wearing that heavy velvet far too long and it takes everything within me not to wince from the stench of body odor.
“Looking a little worse for the wear, sixty-eight.” His breath today rivals that of a spriggan.
Likewise, you jerk. “Rosalie,” I reply, showing no emotion whatsoever.
So much for quiet indifference.
He strokes the prickly hairs on his chin, a despicable smile spreading as he continues to glare at me. “Still going that route, eh?” He thumps the end of my nose and the urge to scratch at his bristly face intensifies. My jagged, broken fingernails dig deeper into the flesh of my palm. “Well, we’ll see how you fare the next time we come to break your wings.”
“Finley!” a male calls from above. His voice is smooth like a faerie’s. Just what I need. Another overdressed buffoon. “You down there?”
He stares at me before calling back, “Jack. Come down.”
Finley stands as the second faerie descends into the hole. At least this one is dressed normally in dark leggings and a white short-sleeved v-neck, though someone should tell him the curly mop hairstyle he’s sporting is out of fashion. His skin is a creamy peach, which is a few hues lighter than mine. I think he’s still a teen, but he could be borderline adult. On the bright side, Jack doesn’t come off as a prick like Finley.
“My father said you wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” Finley’s hand sweeps in my direction and his lips take on an ugly sneer. “Meet sixty-eight. Your new responsibility.” I swear internally but bite my tongue. My wings can’t take another breaking today.
Jack’s head snaps my way and he looks to me with dread. “What?” His nose pinches like he suddenly caught wind of something foul.
“Sixty-eight can’t be released back into the prison until we’ve broken her desire to flee. Once you’ve achieved that, you’re free to go.” He slaps Jack roughly on the back of the shoulder.
Jack huffs and backs away, ready to take flight. Defiantly, he says, “I’m not watching her.”
“Remember that little stunt you pulled last month with that twit of a friend of yours?”
Aghast, Jack hollers dramatically, “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”
Finley’s wicked smile transfers from me to Jack and I wonder what exactly he and his friend did to land him here with me. “Guess it doesn’t seem so funny now, does it?”
With resign, Jack asks, “I don’t believe this. How long will this crap take?”
Finley thrusts the lantern into Jack’s chest, then flies upward slowly. “Well, I suppose that’ll depend on the manner in which you choose to break her.” The jerk actually winks at me. Jack’s a little slower to take off, giving me a lengthy glare before leaving me in darkness. Once he passes over, his voice muffles as he chases Finley down the cave passage; the volume of his bellows suggesting he’s complaining all the way.
I may have beaten the whistle on my prick assessment.
Curses echo throughout the cave and a steady glow lights the upper part of my hole. Jack hovers in the air, flitting back and forth. “Freakin’ unbelievable! One stupid joke and I’m stuck babysitting pixie delinquents! I can’t believe my father agreed to this!”
Great. I’ve gone from a jerk to a spoiled brat watching me. Flippin’ fantastic.
You know, I’ve never truly hated
the faeries. I knew other fae existed, and probably other Hollows, I just never dwelled on it because I never saw them. So I’ve never formed an opinion of them. But honestly, this species has just about pushed me to the limit on my patience scale. No wonder my Hollow hides away without contacting other groups.
After continuing his rant of it’s so unfair for an additional ten minutes, I’m close to snapping. I’m already wishing I had Finley back. At least the things he did knocked me unconscious for a day or two. But one thing’s for sure: Jack is nothing like Finley and anything but intimidating.
After cursing yet again, I’m quick to snap, “Hey! If you’re going to keep whining, could you take it elsewhere?”
His fluttering stops and he looks down to the darkness, appalled, but I don’t care; this guy is way less scary than Finley. Sarcastically, he bellows, “Oh, I’m sorry! Am I bothering you?”
“Yeah. As a matter of fact you are. Could you stuff it for awhile? Thanks.”
I think I threw him for a loop. His mouth opens but he doesn’t know how to respond. He ducks out of view but the light doesn’t dim. Next thing I know, a pail of water is smashing into the ground and my heart jumps against my ribs, so hard I’m surprised it’s still contained.
“Oops!” he shouts. “My bad!”
Well, at least he didn’t drop it directly on me like the others. Every cell in my body protests but I quickly lean to sit it topside before all the water is lost to the ground. While I’m up, pellets fall all around me, a few pricking my back. I pat the ground aimlessly. Seeds!
“Hey!” he calls. “Need a light?”
“Uh-oh,” I mutter, my eyes fearfully looking topside.
A wave of light rushes towards me. A burst of adrenaline shoots my heart into overdrive. Once again it doesn’t hit me, but I’m not sure it’s from a lack of trying…I’m hard to see in the darkness. The glass lantern smashes to pieces on the opposite side, and I instinctively duck and protect my head, but nothing seems to nick my skin.
