Page 716 of Coal Hearts

Occasionally, I’d wake in the dead of night—or it could’ve been midday, considering we hadn’t seen the sky in weeks—and I’d watch them sleeping, thanks to the flickering light that was never turned off. I’d see Ily quaking in her dreams and Peter twitching in his nightmares. Their hands would inevitably find each other’s, sending a vicious jolt through me. A yearning made of jealousy, gratefulness, and overwhelming loneliness.

A clang in the distance made all of us flinch.

Heavy boots clomped over flagstones.

My skin prickled as I looked toward the bars of our cell, and a burly, muscular guard appeared. Carrying a tray, he placed it on the cold rock, fumbled in his pocket for a key, and unlocked our cage.

If I wasn’t a heartbeat away from passing out, and if Peter wasn’t starved to the point of cadaverous, and Ily wasn’t so fearlessly brave, and we weren’t chained up like vermin, we might’ve been able to swarm the deliverer of our once-daily meal.

But...Victor had always been too smart. Too cunning. Too sly.

He gave us just enough food and water to keep us alive but not enough for us to fight back. He gave me just enough medical care to stay in one piece but not enough for me to heal quickly.

“What time is it?” Ily asked quietly as the guard scooped the tray back into his hands and marched into the middle of our dungeon. Placing our food in reaching distance of our chains, he gave her a sneer. “It’s seven p.m. There’s a porno about to begin, and then Victor has a new game for everyone to play.” He laughed, giving us information, not because he wanted to help but because it was yet another form of torture. “Victor hasn’t finished punishing the jewels for their part in your little uprising. I believe a few have been earmarked for an archery lesson tonight.” He chuckled cruelly as he headed toward the exit. “Anyone who manages to get an arrow in a jewel’s heart gets to do whatever he wants with it.”

The guard slammed the bars shut—the metal twang set my teeth aching.

Locking us in, the guard reached through and rested his arms over the cross beams of our prison. “You never know. Maybe tomorrow night the meat on your plate won’t be beef but jewel.”

Ily cringed into a ball.

Peter cuddled her closer.

And the horrors in my head pounced too swift and savage to fight them.

I tipped sideways.

All strength in my limbs bled free.

I passed out.

* * * * *

Today was a better day.

I’d been able to stay awake longer than usual, and the agony in my bones had faded just enough for me to be tortured by the endless icy damp instead of the fiery throb inside me.

Ily scratched yet another line on the rock wall behind her, keeping track of how long we’d been trapped down here. Her pen was a jagged pebble she’d found beneath her bed. The endless rubbing of stone against stone was almost as torturous as the constant dew dripping from the ceiling.

“How many?” I asked, itching the beard on my bruise-filthy face and twisting my forearm, testing to see if the broken bone beneath my cast had knitted.

“Twenty-seven,” Peter said, his voice mostly dead. “Twenty-seven nights since that bastard threw us in here and forgot about us.”

“Oh, he hasn’t forgotten.” I flinched as I forced myself to sit upright. I needed to piss, but the thought of shuffling to the toilet, even as close as it was, drenched me in cold sweat. Yesterday, I’d gone to use the facilities and came to as cold as a corpse on the ground.

Ily’s face had been streaked with tears as she kneeled on frigid rock, her fingers reaching for me, her neck bleeding from where the collar cut into her as she fought the chains to get to me.

I never wanted to do that again.

Not because it’d taken me twenty-four hours to feel somewhat alive again but because I didn’t want to scare or hurt her any more than I already had.

What must it be like for her, seeing me this way? Filthy and broken? Fighting to stay alive, all while being far too weak to save her.

Don’t answer that.

Dropping my gaze, I gathered my scratchy blanket tighter.

My black shirt and trousers had been sliced in places for the doctor to apply the cast to my arm and ankle. A few buttons had been torn off in the fight, and the stench of unwashed sweat and pain added to my never-leaving headache.