Page 42 of Demonic Cage
As we enter the dark cave, the bicolored light emanates from the stones, providing illumination. It doesn’t take us long to reach my cell. Nárs opens the door, and I slip past him.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you again, Lily Girl! I’ll be yourchauffeur! Is that what they call it nowadays?”
“Yes,” I say, turning away.
Nárs bids farewell, but I’m not paying attention anymore. As the lock clicks, I collapse onto the floor, arms around my knees. Yellow eyes flash towards me, scrutinizing. I won’t cry in front of them. To hell with everyone. To hell with Darya!
What’s the point of all this? My nightmares have come to life, and I continue living in them. Even if I put an end to it and go back home, they’d lock me up in a closed ward because they think I’ve lost my mind. I would scream and ask why I deserve this, but deep down I know the answer. The truth is so terrifying that I dare not speak it. Bengt’s vacant gaze passes through my head.
He suffered because of me, so I deserve this.
I wipe my eyes. I should wash my wounds. The tub stands filled again in the middle of the room, its gilded edges warmly inviting. Next to it lies a golden bucket and a snowy-white sheet beside mud-brown vials. I approach them. A small note awaits me, its edges burned by fire.
Start with the Verbascum. Pour hot water over it.
Apply the Éhillea directly to the wound.
D
The letters curve so beautifully that I envy the Kraldem’s handwriting.
With a hiss, I remove the bandages from my ankle and forearm, where Kripot treated me after I fell during rock climbing. I place them on the chair next to the tub, then begin to gently wipe the wounds with the fresh cloth soaking in the bucket. I try to be careful, but even the slightest touch is painful.
Bengt's face pops up in my mind as does Nárs’s horrendous grin and Kripot’s expressionless gaze. I feel Darya’s touch on me.Be mine.And I didn’t resist. What came over me? Darya is a demon. A disturbingly handsome demon who confuses me with his cynical smile.
I hiss again as I press the cloth onto my wound with more force than necessary. I shouldn’t think about anything else but this. I do as Darya says, applying the Éhillea-labeled bandage directly to my wound, then glance at the other vial. There’s no hot water in it, only in the tub. I look around, and on my bed, I see a sizable silver tray.
My stomach takes control over my mind, and I stand up. In the next moment, I’m already sitting next to the tray. Everything is labeled with the same elegant handwriting. Overripe apples and bananas line the blue tray. Seeds are provided in small rusty containers. On top of the fruit are plants and roots. I recognize lavender, mint, cloves, and lemongrass, but that’s only the half of it. There’s a golden liquid inside a bronze cup, labeled as nectar, and beside it are small jugs of hot and cold water. I pour the contents of the Verbascum into the latter. There’s another mixture with a label saying ‘ambrosia’. It seems to be a mix of small oranges and cherries, topped with whipped cream, but I also spot some things in it that may be gummy bears or colored cereal balls.
Another small message awaits by the tray.
I tried to choose food you would eat,
but if you want meat too, just let me know.
D
I gulp audibly. I don’t want to imagine what kind of meat he’s referring to. I don’t want to know what they do with the children. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.
But at home, only restraints would be waiting for me. They would tie me up like a lunatic. Darya promised that I will no longer need my medication if I defeat a monster. But Kripot gave me weapons that I couldn’t even lift, let alone use properly. He tried me on the course with spears, and I got injured with every minor movement.
My tongue burns and I ache for a pill. I need my medication. I can’t live without it. I don’twanttolive without it.
I start nibbling on the seeds.
I can’t do this. Without the pills, I can’t.
I down the Verbascum drink. The cup shakes in my hand. My heart gets louder, as if it may explode with every beat in my chest. I grab a handful of seeds.
I can’t do this.
Half of them fall from my hand, scattering with a faint clatter on the swampy floor. I take a deep breath, but it feels like my throat is narrowing. My field of vision is once again obscured by black smoke.
I down the contents of the cups, one after another. I eat too quickly – I can’t stop. The fog absorbs the space around me, and I pant. I can barely breathe. I get on all fours and crawl to the center of the tray. I drink the nectar, and some of it spills down my neck. I wipe it with my hand, making my palm sticky. It smells honey-sweet.
With my other hand, I’m already shoveling almonds into my mouth. Half of them fall beside me.
I can’t do this. Without the medication, I can’t do this.
