Page 10 of Nyx
Nyx
Thedoorcloseswitha quiet click, extinguishing the ray of light that was sneaking through. I cradle the quickly cooling bowl of rice and beans in both hands, staring at the now-empty doorway. My heart still thumps behind my ribcage, fighting this silent war between the thrill of having Reyes so near this space and the fear of what he might think if he looked inside.
Vines weave around my cottage, uninvited but welcome. They curtain the windows with their leafy fingers and prevent anyone from being able to see past. My protectors, and the keepers of my secret. They turn the sunlight into streams of jade that bathe the entire living area in a green glow. It’s my one comfort, knowing the forest has made this place its home, too.
Metal silverware clanks against the ceramic bowl as I walk over to the only piece of furniture and sit. Shame swells in my stomach, filling my insides until I’mconvinced I might overflow with it. I look around the barren space.
A small bed.
An even smaller table.
Hard floors beneath my feet, and a thin blanket atop the mattress.
A mirror image of my cell at Ljómur.
The replica is perfect, down to the precise distance between the bed and the tiny table. My arm knows exactly how far to reach for a glass of water. Ninety years of practice have turned it into muscle memory.
Here, even in my freedom, I’ve recreated my prison. Built a carbon copy of my captivity.
I hate it.
The memories.
Thefamiliarity.
The solace found in the emptiness.
A tear slides down my cheek as I close my eyes and force myself to breathe. Alone, so alone, no matter who’s around. Wanting to reach out and form those connections, to rediscover what it’s like to belong. I crave the comfort of another as much as I’m terrified to receive it.
One more thing to plague my mind. It’s so loud inside my head, with the push and pull, back and forth, start and stop, stop,stop.My thoughts keep spinning, changing, and rearranging.Warring,and screaming,always screaming, until there’s no room for anything else. The fork clanks against the bowl again, my legs quaking beneath me as I fight this fall into oblivion.
Deep breaths. Steady inhales and draining exhales.
Eat.
Reyes said to eat. That’s something I can do. Something I can control. My body needs fuel.
I take a bite.
Swallow, but don’t taste.
It’s a start.Eat.
The other prisoners at Ljómur were rabid beasts when their food came. We were always hungry, but they gave us justenoughto sustain our bodies. Still, the moment the trays slid through the openings in their barred doors, they snatched them up as if they might never receive another meal. But there was no need. No rush. They failed to realize one vital fact.
Our lives were too important to be taken by any hands besides theirs.
We would not die unless it was of their choosing. Not our choice.Neverour choice.
I tried, though. Gods, did I try. There were times I gave up on life, refusing my meals until I was too feeble to climb out of bed. No one talks about how much starvation hurts. Bone-deep hunger ate me alive, replaced my insides with its vicious razors, and it cut so deep, I swear I felt the bleeding.
But I fought through it. My desperation to fall into the embrace of an endless sleep outweighed the pain even as my limbs thrashed in protest. I’d seize and shake until my teeth clanked, but I wouldn’t eat.
The fantasy of never again waking inside the nightmare of that place helped push me past the agony. I longed for peace, but it was never granted.
I was neverallowed.
Rough hands strapped me onto those tables and forced nutrients into my body as they shouted words I couldn’t understand. They injected me with more needles and fed me through a tube until they were certain I’d survive long enough for their next experiments.
