Page 46 of Burdens
My chest was heavy with each inhale.
I can’t breathe.
She’d sounded tired during our last conversation a few weeks ago and I thought it was just because she worked too much. I should have pushed and asked, should have jumped on a plane and gone to see her and make sure she was okay.
Why didn’t I go?
Why didn’t I call her more to ask how she was?
Why didn’t I fucking answer her last phone call?
She’d called me this week, but I’d been too fucking busy being happy to answer. I’d told myself that I would call her later. That I’d maybe tell my mother abouther. Maybe even fly us so the two people I loved could meet.
I thought I’d have time.
But I’d been robbed of it.
“Hey, you okay?” Gabriel’s voice pulled me out of the memory.
“Yeah,” I answered.
I’d learned to remember the good memories instead of the only bad one, but whenever I thought of that day, it always felt like driving a freshly sharpened knife into a wound you’d thought had healed.
Instead of feeling like a dull hit, the aftermath spilled endlessly, making the pain you’d experienced resurface all over again.
Especially since my mother hadn’t been the only person I’d lost that day.
I heard Gabriel open his mouth, but the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the steps and approaching the door to the basement caught my attention.
Muffled voices sounded from behind the closed door, indicating that it was multiple people coming in, which meant it wasn’t just a guard checking in on how things were going.
Fuck.
I rushed to get my shirt and pulled it back on, the fabric still wet. I ignored the sticky feeling of it against my skin and made it back to my previous spot. “People are coming,” I whispered to Gabriel. “If you were unconscious, pretend you still are.”
“Wha—” he started, but I cut him off.
“Now.” I’d barely gotten the word out when the door cracked open. I hastily rested the side of my head against the wall to my left and pretended to be asleep before whoever they were came in.
I wasn’t sure how many of them there were, but regardless of who or the amount, if I wasn’t awake, they were less likely to rein me into trouble because every time a group had visited, I’d either gotten knocked around or stabbed.
Not that I really minded Amalia stabbing me.
The footsteps were approaching, and I noticed they hadn’t closed the door behind them, which meant they intended tobring someone out. None of them spoke as their steps grew closer, but they didn’t stop at my cell.
Something was wrong because silence was never a good thing. It always meant things were about to get worse.
Usually death.
I internally winced from the memories the sound brought as metal keys clinked together, breaching the deafening silence. A few seconds later, the hinges of a metal door screeched open.
I wanted to see what was happening but knew that someone could be standing in front of my cell watching, so I kept my breathing even as I heard them step inside whatever the place on the other side of the walls was.
The footsteps grew closer to where I sat, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls. Then they stopped.
Some sort of object tapped against the concrete before a voice I hadn’t heard in years spoke up. A dreadful chill shot down my spine in response, a myriad of memories assaulting my mind, but I pushed against them because now wasn’t the time to reminisce about the terrible old days he’d put me through.
“Tga3ad?1,” he demanded of Gabriel, who must have followed my advice and acted as if he was still unconscious.
