Page 84 of Devour
Staring at the ceiling of my comfortable prison.
The dull pain of loss is a constant pressure, but everything else is wiped away. I don’t know how long I sit there like that until, eventually, the sorrow comes back to the surface and my chest convulses in silent sobs I didn’t consciously choose.
What am I grieving now? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. My body simply reacts, heaving out the sour emotions poisoning me.
I cry so hard my head throbs. My eyes burn. My muscles clench.
It finally subsides, leaving me aching and restless.
I stand and pace in the small room, knowing I will not be able to go back to sleep, not for a long time.
It feels like there are coils spinning tighter and tighter around my head and chest, until I think I may explode with it. I spin around, looking for something to help me release this energy. I could dig through the piles of trinkets, or read a book, but that’s not going to help the pressure in my body.
I finally stop spinning when I face the door. My eyes narrow at the lock. Slowly, as if it were a rabbit I intend to snare, I approach the barrier. I stop, take three breaths.
What happens if I’m caught out in the halls alone?
When the door clicks open with only a tiny tug, I don’t spend time pondering my fate. I just run.
38
Lina
Bare toes on solid stone, I rush as fast as I can down the halls. When I get to the split, I stop, panting as the realization of what I’m doing hits me.
I’ll die if I am caught.
And yet, I cannot make myself sit still and wait. I cannot let him hold my fate in his hands. If I am tortured for my rebellion, it will be no worse than I expected when I was stolen away. And at least I’ll have myself to blame if I fail.
I flex my fingers, open, closed, open, closed. Over and over as I stare at the shifting shadows of the tunnel ahead. Out there, somewhere, somehow, is a way out of here.
There has to be.
It’s been several days since the last time I explored on my own, but I’ve been out here daily, so I have a much better understanding. I remember a few of the dead ends, and the direction to the community hall.
I know there will be a guard near the community areas. And another set straight ahead.
I’m quiet and constantly listening. My life in the forests and abandoned villages, hiding from beasts, prepared me well for this.
A soft thud echoes down the hall. I freeze.
A moment later, there’s a rustle of fabric. Is that a guard? Maybe. Safe to assume so.
But then again, won’t they be more likely to guard the most important routes? So, a guard could be a good sign. Quiet and stillness probably means there is little to find.
There is a tiny dim tunnel to the left. Something pulses in the darkness, and my heart is repelled. Disgust rises up to my throat.
I press my back to the stone wall and take in several breaths, eyes closed, as I consider. How brave am I willing to be today?
How desperate am I?
Wild rebellion surprises me as it wells up in my chest. My eyes fly open, and I carefully creep farther toward the sound. When I find a small chip of stone on the edge of the wall, I carefully pull it away and hold it tightly. It’s too small to use as a weapon, but I don’t need it for that.
“Quiet night?” a deep voice says.
My eyes flare, but he’s not nearby. I release a relieved breath when another voice answers. “Too quiet. Want to play cards?”
“I wish.”
