Page 7 of Harmless
“Yeah, it’s humid as fuck in here,” I said. “Just do your best.”
Torr’s steps continued to shuffle along the perimeter, so to avoid getting kicked by him again, I scooted forward to sit closer to the center of the room.
“You been in here before?” he asked after a while.
“Not this one specifically or for this long.”
A memory surfaced of before I came to Mystic Canyon, when Devin and Hudson were forcefully dragged away and I was left alone to imagine what kind of horrors were being inflicted on them. They came back about twelve hours later, hollow-eyed and tight-lipped, their wrists, ankles, and necks covered in raw, angry red marks.
“You gladiators,” I could imagine Torr shaking his head in disbelief as he spoke, “must have nerves and balls of steel from this shit. I thought I could handle a dark room, but I’m wilting over here, and you sound rock steady. Like a Buddhist monk or something.”
I let out a soft laugh. “We’re all forged by our environments. I’m sure it would be the reverse in a different situation.”
Torrance was quiet for a moment, then I heard a scraping noise, like he was sliding his back down the wall to take a seat on the ground. “You know what? You’re a nice guy for a gladiator.”
“You met many gladiators?” I snorted.
“Fine, I take it back.”
We both scoffed at that.
“I can see why Rori likes you, is what I’m trying to say,” he added.
I stiffened. Aside from acknowledging that we had both been with Rori in the beginning, we had avoided talking about her. She told me a little about the whole sharing thing with her one mom and four dads. The idea would take some getting used to, but I wasn’t opposed to it.
Having that kind of thing work seemed to hinge on the people involved most of all. How well everyone got along, if personalities meshed, and if things were all balanced. And I just didn’t know Torr well enough to say if I was willing to share Rori with him.
But it was ultimately up to her, I suppose. She and him already had a history. I was the outsider trying to find a way in.
“When did you and Rori meet?” I asked.
“When we were kids. I was twelve and she was ten.”
Oh, damn. That was alonghistory with them. The possibility of seeing myself alongside them wilted like a plant starved for water.
“My birth parents just kinda fucked off and left me to die,” he said casually. “So I lived with her family for a few weeks until a suitable foster home was found. But they became my family. Her twin brother’s my best friend, so I was over there hanging out with them all the time.”
My head lifted. “So you saw how her family was like, huh?”
“Oh, you mean her four dads? Yeah, it was weird at first, but you got used to it. And they ended up being like dads to me too. Good thing, ‘cause they’re great role models, you know? Those guys love the hell out of their woman and make it known, never complain about her in private or sneak around on her like my foster dad does. Nah, Rori’s dads also taught us all kinds of cool shit like how to ride motorcycles and shoot guns. Great family. Good people.”
“That sounds nice,” I said remotely. It must have sucked to get abandoned, but it seemed like the guy ended up alright. Well, up until the point that he landed in a dungeon with me.
There was a rustling sound like Torr was shifting his weight. “What about you? You got family somewhere missing you?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “I’m sure I got blood relatives all over the place, but no one who would claim or miss me. The closest thing to family I’ve got is Dev—”
My mouth shut abruptly with the realization that I almost just gave his real name. Shit, even if I hadn’t, I shouldn’t be revealing my friendship with another gladiator.
“Who?” Torr pressed.
“Nothing. I don’t have any family.”
“Dude.” He sighed. “I’m in this dark, dank hole with you, trying not to lose my shit. I’m not gonna rat you out to the resort people. Rori’s coming back, and we’re gonna get out. We need to trust each other, at least with basic information.”
I sighed and scooted back toward the wall, letting my head rest on the solid brick. I wished I had my machetes on me, not to use them, but to sharpen them or work out my wrists—do something with my hands.
Even if Torr was lying, which I didn’t think he was, or if Rori didn’t come back for whatever reason, it wasn’t likely the resort staff would use any information against me. There was nothing more they could do to me. This cell was the last one punished gladiators sat in before they got sent out to be disposed of in a fight.
