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He leaves the cage, sweating, and slams the bolt on the door. His footsteps are awkward and sluggish, and when he turns to me, I smile and open my arms. He doesn’t step into my open embrace; instead, he goes straight for the door. I know better than to linger, and I follow him to his bedroom.
It’s a worse cage than the one my mother has found herself in.
He kicks off his shoes and lies down, throwing his arm over his face. I watch until the rise and fall of his chest is even. I have often thought about killing him while he slept, but the sad truth is I know I wouldn’t get away with it, even if I could do it.
The hall is silent as I make my way to my mother's cell—no friendly faces, no allies, just the echo of myfootsteps. The smell grows stronger as I approach, a reminder of the inhumane conditions she's been kept in. When I reach the room, I head straight for the supply case filled with the drugs used to torment her.
I draw a vial—far more than any human could withstand. My hands are steady, my resolve firmer than it's ever been. But there is a child inside me who weeps and begs me to break.
I ignore her.
Standing before the cell, I meet my mother's frantic gaze. Her eyes, wide and darting, finally fix on the syringe in my hand. "You don’t deserve this," I whisper, not sure if I'm trying to convince her or myself. "But I’m here to offer you a kindness you never offered me." The little girl wails, the one who experienced kindness from her. Memories that I must have suppressed charge back like an army protecting its land.
“The doll…” I whisper. My mother tilts her head; I don’t know if she even understands me anymore.
“I loved that doll.” I can picture it so clearly now—blonde pigtails, a white cap, and a blue and white dress. My stomach twists painfully. “You gave it to me.” I blink tears, and the feel of the moisture on my cheeks startles me. I slept with that doll every night. What happened to it? I scour my memory, and it’s like a movie that pauses. The doll is in my mother’s hands; she’s different now; my brother’s death has changed everything. I cried as she released the doll into the lit fireplace. I watched a friend burn, a protector from the monsters, vanish before my eyes. I’m back to looking into my mother’s tormented eyes. None of that matters now.
I hold up the syringe. “Let me end this for you.” My bottom lip wobbles. I exhale a quick breath as time seems to slow as she processes my words, the implications. Then, with a resigned clarity in her tortured eyes, she extends her arm through the bars.
Relief, grief, and anger slam through me. She wants this to end. I have no parting words. No I love you, or I’m sorry. I don’t love her, but what she has become is too much to bear.
As I administer the overdose, there's a silence between us that speaks louder than words ever could. Her grip on my hand is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of our past. I stay with her, holding her gaze, as the life gradually fades from her eyes and her heart ceases its weary beating.
It's over. The room is silent, save for my own breathing. A part of me feels hollow, knowing the cycle of pain has finally ended, not with vengeance, but with an act of merciful release. As I stand there, the magnitude of what I've done—and what I still need to do—settles in. I know this isn't the end of my journey, but a grim chapter closed, paving the way for what must come next.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Selene
THE HOURS TICK by—literally tick. Though the bedroom has a security door, the walls are too thin, and the sound of the grandfather clock in the corridor seeps into the room. The ticking claws at my skull as I bend over my laptop are relentless and unforgiving.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
It drives me mad. I glance at Niamh, who’s dozing in the chair just under Sofia Hughes’ photos, blissfully unaware of the chaos spiraling within me. I envy her peace; my own mind is an ever-tightening coil, wound by weeks of sleepless nights.
That damned medallion has taunted me for weeks. It murmurs in my ear when I try to sleep, twisting my thoughts into dark knots of anxiety. Now that I have the key to unlock all its secrets, that infernal clock seems determined to hammer into my brain: “Too late, too long,” it ticks, “you missed your chance.”
No. I won’t let it win. I slam my hands down on the desk, the smack echoing off the walls. Niamh jerks awake, startled, but I don’t care.
“It’s not too late,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. I’m the one who brought this to light. If it wasn’t for me, that medallion would still be rotting away in some dusty drawer.
Niamh rubs her eyes and squints at me. “Selene, what’s going on?”
The clock’s relentless ticking is my heartbeat, drumming in my ears like a curse. I can’t take it anymore. My hands tremble as I close my laptop and rise from my chair, walking purposefully to the bedroom door. I yank it open, and there it is, just steps away: the grandfather clock. Its pendulum sways with cruel precision.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I step closer to the clock, pulling open its back panel. Cables and pulleys fill the space, tangled like nerves beneath the skin. I stare at them, vaguely aware they keep the mechanism going but unsure of how to silence it. I have no idea how this thing works so I do the only thing I can think of: I shove the clock with both hands.
The crash reverberates through the house. Glass shatters, wood splinters, and dull chimes that will never ring again echo in the chaos. I stand there, breathing heavily, staring at the remains of the clock.
Within moments, Niamh bursts through the bedroom door, her hand clutching her chest, eyes wide with panic. I hear footsteps racing up the stairs, and soon enough, the guards appear, confusion etched on their faces. I raise my hand and shout, “Stop!”
They hesitate, but I fix them with a glare that brooks no argument. “I don’t need you. I need peace.”
Without waiting for a response, I brush past Niamh and stride back to my chair, collapsing into it with a sigh. I close my eyes and lean my head back, savoring the newfound silence. Finally. Blessed silence.
“Selene, are you all right?” Niamh’s voice quivers with concern, but I don’t open my eyes.
