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"The world is a cruel place, Amora. It isn't built from rainbows and magic." He pauses, inhaling a breath. "That was more than one question."

His smile almost reaches his eyes, his tone mocking. I bite the urge to tell him to go to hell. He watches, his gaze never leaving. He's waiting for me to break; to show him how much he's crawling under my skin.

I fake a smile, my teeth showing.

"Your turn." I spit it out through gritted teeth. Bastard.

"Tell me about your family, Amora."

"I already told you my sister was—" He flicks his hand, dismissing me instantly. I bite down into my cheek and hold my breath.

"I don't care about her; I want to know about your parents. About the people who raised you."

I almost snap. How dare he dismiss her, speak about her like she's nothing when she's everything? Let it go. It's not worth dying for. He doesn't know her, he doesn't know how amazing she is or how she makes you a better person.

The thought of Rosa stings, sharper than it should when her absence never really leaves me. I try to hold back the tears that I feel coming. Don't. He doesn't deserve to see them.

"My, um…" I pause. It's hard to talk about my mum to anyone, especially him. "My mother died three years ago…" I feel my throat closing, the lump forming. I don't want to cry, damn it. Be strong.

"How?" He leans closer, eyes intense.

"Cancer." The word falls flat, like the feeling in my chest. I don't know why I told the truth. My stomach sinks.

"That must have been hard."

Feelings course through me—every emotion, every tear, every inch of rage I've swallowed back for the last three years—and suddenly, the floodgates open.

"I couldn't save her—" My voice shakes through a sob. Stop, the voice inside my head screams, blocking out the noise from outside. Why are you doing this? Why are you giving him a part of yourself you can never get back, you stupid little girl? I let the worst thoughts in my head continue. They're right. What the hell was I thinking?

His hand moves on instinct as he laces his fingers between mine. I stare down, eyes wide.

"Did you hold her hand like this as she died, Amora?" His voice trails off, and I glance up, meeting his gaze. He flashes his teeth as he smiles, but it isn't kind. It isn't real.

He's enjoying my pain, and I gave it to him so easily. I just let one of the darkest moments of my life spill through my lips like it meant nothing, and I gave it all to him for free.

Snatching my hand away, I clutch it to my chest. Like that'll take away the feel of his fingertips that were slowly searing into my skin. My heart breaks with every single beat. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. He just sits back, relaxed in his chair and continues to revel in my misery.

"Tell me about your father."

I don't fight back the glare. I don't care about his game or his consequences. Not anymore.

"Don't give me that look. Answer the question." He rolls his eyes like he's annoyed. Like he has a right to be.

"He left. Years ago. I don't remember him." I'm done with this game, done even speaking to him. I want to leave. I want to be back in the cells with the other girls.

"I see. How sad." He mocks me, his voice dark and lyrical. I can hear every inch of the smirk that hides behind the words. Screw this, two can play this game.

"My turn." I snap. "How about you tell me about your father?"

I let the whites of my teeth show. I want him to see my triumph. I want him to see that I can play his game, that maybe I could even play it better than him. His jaw snaps shut, eyes squinting as his gaze drives into mine. I flicker my gaze briefly to his hand, knuckles whitening as he grips the armchair.

My heart falls to my stomach taking my sweet moment of victory with it.

What have I done?

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Each word drips with an uncontrolled rage, the tremor in his voice spiking with each syllable. I've messed up. I've pushed too hard and done the exact opposite of what I'd planned.

Bravery begins to fade fast and hard, replaced with a newfound fear I've never felt before. I don't get a chance to think, to apologise, to beg for my life before he's lunging from his seat. He towers over me, blocking the sun and sending me into a shade of darkness.