Page 118 of The Obedient Lie
Fromfear.
Fromfriction.
From how long we held on.
The rusted bars eventually dug into our skin—left scars. They’re still there.
Across the tops of our fingers, right where we’d strained to stay connected.
The iron melded into us.
Branded us.
What it means when the light finally comes and ithurts.
When Vince kicked in the door and pulled us out of the cages—the light burned our eyes.
We screamed.
Because the dark had becomehome.
Because anything outside it was unfamiliar.Blinding.
After that, the lights never went off again.
Since the cages, we never slept in the dark.
Strip lights.
Lamps.
Glow panels.
Even at fifteen, even now—there wasalways something.
Until her.
Luca didn’t look at me, but his voice dropped.
“You remember the first night she moved into our room?”
I nodded once. “Yeah.”
“We freaked out.”
Not because of her.
Because ofthe dark.
We didn’t want her to ask why we kept lights on.
We didn’t want her to seeus—the parts of us that never stopped being those two boys in metal cages.
But she was there that night.
And something shifted.
We were so focused onher—her breathing, the rustle of her sheets, the way she curled into the pillow—that weforgotto turn anything on.
