Page 56 of Crucible
I fully expected it to be padlocked with thick chains and booby traps because it’s the only thing that makes sense, but no.
The blast of cold air when the door actually opens is almost as shocking as finding out that I hadn’t been locked in.
Immediately, my mind begins to race, trying to hastily form a plan of escape amongst the chaos of warning bells and the sole question echoing in the background.
Whyshouldthey lock me in?
I remember every moment of my ordeal before I saw the smoke from the cabin curling above the trees. I only made it this far because of Tyler. I won’t be so lucky on my own, and based on how thin the air feels, it’s an even longer way down the mountain.
My only hope is to wait for the cavalry.
I have this fleeting, insane thought that I could get myself down before I dismiss it as lunacy.
I have no supplies, zero sense of direction, and I still haven’t fully recovered from my last walk through the woods.
Heart in my throat, I slowly shut the door.
It’s a few more minutes before I can bring myself to walk away from it—my autonomy, my freedom, and my certain death if I leave this prison a moment too soon.
A yawn and the exhaustion that accompanies it take over my thoughts. I’ve been asleep for days, yet I feel like I could sleep for a few more.
I think about going back downstairs since Khalil’s bed is the most comfortable, but the idea of going back into the basement doesn’t thrill me, so I eye the cracked door to Thorin’s room.
I know Khalil left me a list of demands that I should probably get started on since the days are shorter in the winter, but I have no intention of becoming their twisted version of a housewife.
I choose the nap.
The bears follow me into my dreams, turning them into nightmares.
No matter how hard I run, they catch me. They hold me down and use me. They make me theirs. Sometimes, they let me get away just so it can start all over again. Each time, they take a little more until it’s me gladly handing over the tarnished pieces of my soul for them to devour.
That’s the most twisted part—that I don’t fight all that hard.
It’s my shame, my burden to bear.
Their faces are shielded by animalistic masks with gaping maws that reveal their devastatingly gorgeous faces.
They’re not monsters, or demons, or bears. They’re so much worse.
They’re men—virile, deviant, lonely, and wild. They’re free of the societal bonds that demand they behave honorably.
And I know who they are.
I wander hopelessly inside my own mind for what feels like days, searching for their names. Eventually, the darkest depths of my soul answers with a possession that feels perverse.
Thorin—domineering, grumpy, suspicious, and malevolent.
Khalil—passionate, vain, violent, and selfish.
I hesitated about the final name, not because I didn’t remember it but because it felt wrong.
No, not wrong. Incomplete.
It feels like one side of a mangled coin. I force my mind to speak it anyway, knowing it’s the key to my freedom.
Seth—mischievous, obsessive, gullible, and tormented.
It’s not my first time dreaming about them, but it is the first time they speak to me.
