Page 51 of Crucible
I roll my eyes but don’t respond to the obvious lie. I saw the deer carcass, so I know he’s telling the truth about hunting, but I don’t remember seeing a fucking garden on my way in. I’m still eyeing my food like it’s a time bomb when he finally turns away from the counter.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Last time you fed me, you put something in my food.”
I’m not sure how I expected him to respond to my accusation, but I know I wasn’t expecting him to laugh. It’s heartless and obnoxious, just like him. “We didn’t drug you, Aurelia. You passed the fuck out.”
“What? I don’t remember that.” The last thing I recall is Thorin telling me I was safe, and then…nothing.
“Well, you wouldn’t, would you? You were unconscious.”
“Who did all of this?” I ask, gesturing to my bandages and clothing. My skin looks and feels clean, too, like I’d been bathed. I even have a vague memory of one of them brushing my teeth and washing my hair.
It’s a kindness that, when coming from them, just feels like more of a violation.
“Thorin patched you up. He has some medical training from his time in the Marines. Not much, but enough.”
“Well, it wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t injured.” God knows what they must have done to me after I was out. My body hurt all over like someone took a bat to it.
Or dropped a plane on it.
“Yes, you were, Aurelia. Extensively. You were hypothermic, frostbitten, and severely dehydrated, among other things.
“I…I didn’t know. I felt a little sore, but that’s it.”
Khalil shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “What the cold didn’t numb, the adrenaline suppressed until it finally wore off. I guess your body couldn’t handle the stress of your injuries, and it shut down your brain so you could heal.”
Or my mind just didn’t want to deal with what they did to me.
Thorin’s voice enters my mind.“You’re safe here.”
“How long have I been out?” I finally allow myself to ask.
“You’ve been in and out for four days.”
My food threatens to come back up.
Four more days have passed, and no one’s found me yet.
Is anyone even still looking, or have they called off the search already?
I try to imagine the headlines. Immediately, I hate myself for it.
How empty must my life be that it’s my first thought? There’s no mother, father, or boyfriend who might care if I’m found. I don’t even have a dog or cat to worry about starving to death in my absence—only millions of adoring fans and critics who probably think I got what I deserved.
“You should have died,” Khalil announces without care. “You shouldn’t have been able to find us. We went through a lot of trouble to ensure that.”
“Your point?”
“Now that I know you, my guess is you were too stubborn to die.”
“You don’t know me,” I whisper, my voice thick with some unnamed emotion.
“Baby, I doubt you even know you.”
My grip tightens around my fork. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it doesn’t take an expert in Aurelia George to see that you’re spiraling.”
