I rush to Willow’s part of the pit, where I see she’s still sleeping. All the pixies are up and about already, eating their share of
breakfast. I guess Holly took the lead and left us to sleep. I’m sure it didn’t take her long to realize Juniper’s body was no longer with
us. She tries to hand me a bowl of mash as I rush by, a sense of forlorn apparent on her features, but I disregard her completely on
my way to Willow.“Willow!” I shake her a little harder than I probably should have, but I can’t help it. “Willow!”
She stirs groggily but quickly jumps to her feet in panic. “What?” she bursts, her eyes darting in all directions with panic.“It’s all an
illusion. Just a glamour.”“What?” she asks, a little annoyed since she’s still expecting some sort of danger to come at her.“Our
surroundings. We’re not living in some desolate wasteland. Look out over the pit. Everywhere you look is lush greenery. Trees are
filled with life. Birds, insects, wind! There’s a river just below us. Everything we see in this prison is just an illusion. They’ve
glamoured everything we’re exposed to so we’ll think there’s no escaping this place. That trail we take every day? What if you go
just far enough through the trees? Eventually you’ll pass right through the glamour like we do with the one covering our pit. There’s a
lush forest surrounding us on all sides. I just know it!”
My heart is racing a mile a minute. Willow seems to be processing what I tell her, her eyes darting side to side, expressing the
calculations she was reading in her head. She slowly begins to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah, it’s possible.”“Willow, it’s more
than possible. We know these spriggans don’t stay here at night. There’s no reason to since we can’t fly out of the pit to walk away
anyway. There’s a world around us to hide in. All we have to do is run.”“Run? Rosalie, most of these pixies don’t even understand
the concept anymore. Sure, we could probably walk them out of here during the night if we could find a way out of the pit, but run?
Any pixie not lucid at this point will still be a prisoner by morning’s light. And we can’t just leave them here to fend for themselves.
They’ll die.”
She’s right. And I know it. That’s why my chest suddenly feels heavier. As much as I want to be free, I could never do it at their
expense. “What if I just run? You stay here and keep the others alive. I’ll run and bring back help.”“Rosalie, think about what you’re
saying. Every day we have like ten spriggans in the area. You’re one pixie. Who can’t fly. You’ll never make it during the day. I’m fine
if you want to find a way to escape but you need to do it during the cover of night. If they catch you they’ll throw you back in the hole
for an extended period of time. Do you know what happens to those pixies?”
I shake my head.“Of course you don’t. Because the pixies that come back refuse to speak of it. And you’ve never met one of those
pixies because every single one of them committed suicide shortly after being released.”
Her eyes dart to the sky and mine soon follow. Spriggans are descending.“I know I can make it. I can. And if I don’t, I know I’m strong
enough to survive the hole.” She’s shaking her head at me, more forcefully with each additional word that flows from my mouth.
“Willow, it’s worth the risk.”
Right then a spriggan attaches to my back and lifts me away. I see the concern on her face and I can read her silent words perfectly.
Don’t. Don’t do it.
But I’ve already made up my mind. I believe with all my heart the risk is worth it and I’m strong enough to deal with the unknown if my
attempt fails.
I’m the first pixie to fall in line and I keep my head down and my expression filled with defeat. I will not let on what I’m about to do. I
will be a good, submissive pixie, numb and lifeless, my feet shuffling along the trail because I’m too tired to pick them up.
But I’m not tired. And I’m not lifeless. Adrenaline surges through my bloodstream, bringing a newfound life to every part of my body. I
sense excitement in what I’m about to do. I sense confidence. I can do this. I will break free. And I will return with help to free the rest.
They will not keep my freedom.
As I near the cave, I don’t take my place at one of the tables inside. Instead I veer my lazy body off to the side, picking up a basket,
continuing to shuffle my feet along. The spriggan leading us now stands guard at the entrance. The others are still hovering around,
watching the line. The moment I clear the corner of the cave I take off, dropping the basket so I can pump my arms for more speed. I
don’t know if there’s anyone chasing me. I’m sure they are, but by foot or by air, I can’t hear them either way.
I take a straight shot. I refuse to weave in and around the trees, knowing my best bet is to get to the forest as fast as possible to hide
amongst the foliage. My legs are burning because I’m not used to doing anything but standing. My knees ache every time my foot
pounds the ground and I feel my thigh muscles strain as I stretch to extend every stride to the max. I run and run and run, but all I see
are dying trees and dried-out compacted dirt, the forest whipping past me in shades of the dullest tans and browns ever.
Suddenly, there’s a tingling sensation dancing along the hairs on my skin. My heart leaps with joy as I recognize the ripple in the air
and feel its magic closing in on me. The ripple is thicker than I expect and it slows my progress. I hear a cacophony of sounds
blurring together, but they clear into the distinct sounds of nature the closer I get to the other side. I finally punch through the barrier
and the magic releases the hold it has on my body. I gasp and come to a skidding stop. Not because I finally see a forest in all its
beautiful glory of color, sounds and wildlife, or feel the cool relief of the wind upon my skin, but because I realize I’m standing at the
edge of the spriggans’ campsite, sandwiched directly between two huts made of skinny sticks roped together and topped with
straw thatches.
Oh. My. Mother. Nature.
There are several more huts in the area, with one designated as their eating area. A slab of rock holds a spread of luscious fruits
and vegetables in multiple colors, and segregated piles of various seeds and nuts. Overgrown mushrooms, probably enlarged using
pixie dust, shoot up around the rock, offering a comfy place to sit. I hear water rushing and bubbling over rocks nearby, and see a
channel made of wood directing a small flow towards the food hut to create a communal watering hole.
I’m half-tempted to run straight through just to grab what I can in food, but even though I don’t see anyone, I decide the best course of
action is to sneak along the back side of the campsite until I’m clear. I creep along but I sense what lead I have ahead of my captors
has dissipated. Before I can turn my neck to check, a sharp pain radiates outward from my crown. My vision fades and blurs, and
wooziness overcomes my body.
I groan as I come to in the darkness, the faint sound of water pounding into rock. There’s a cold, hard surface beneath me that
unfortunately I recognize. Intense, sharp vibrations pulsate within my head and it feels like I’ve slept awkwardly on my neck for days.
The moment I make it to a sitting position, my vision spins so violently I upchuck uncontrollably. Luckily for me there’s nothing in my
stomach to actually come up, and I spare myself the nuisance of defiling what little space I have to move around in. The darkness is
suffocating and pounds against my head. I have a pretty good idea of where I am, so I have no problem letting my body succumb to
the darkness once more.
Water attacks my skin, drowning every exposed inch, and my body bursts to life in terror. My eyes open to the dim light and I spot a
spriggan swinging another pail of water my way. Unfortunately, I gasp in sync with his release and end up choking on water, leaving
a burning sensation up my nose and down my throat.“Oh, good. You’re awake,” says a male voice sarcastically. I haven’t even seen
him yet and I already know he’s an arrogant jerk. His voice is smooth though…nothing like the deep, husky sound of a spriggan.
Still coughing my lungs clean, I sweep the water off my face and squeeze the excess from my eyes. It takes several blinks to nourish
my moisture-stripped eyes with tears and for the blurriness to fade, but they still burn. My hands stay in the air before my face,
unsure if another water attack is coming. I spot the spriggan with the pail and deduce he has no more pails to throw. Beside him is a
faerie; the first I’ve seen since imprisoned.
Just as I thought, he has an air about him that screams pretentious; too good to be with the likes of a pixie. His long blond hair is thin
and has a slight wave to it, and his thin structure is curved with thick muscles. He’s a few inches taller than me and several shorter
than the monstrous spriggan behind him. His wings are almost translucent in this light and are pulled downward behind his back. It’s
too dark to determine eye color on his heart-shaped face, and it doesn’t help that he’s squinting them at me, clearly annoyed with
me already. His clothes surprise me though. He almost appears to be wearing something similar to a dress. He has on the normal
fitted cotton covering his legs, but his long white sleeve shirt is a bit poufy in the arms. Over that is a weird sleeveless, blue velvet
coverlet that falls practically down to his knees, with a stitched white insignia on his chest I don’t recognize. If that isn’t bad enough,
the feather of a peacock pokes out of a pocket over his heart.
Such ridiculous clothing. Did he wear the thing willingly or did he lose a bet?
Just the sight of him ticks me off. He being the only faerie I’ve seen since unlawfully imprisoned, a roar of fire builds within my chest
and my limbs yearn to lash out and attack him with everything I’ve got. However, I’m not that stupid. My internal rage jumps leaps and
bounds over what I know my body can physically do at this moment.
Condescendingly, I sing, “Are you the court jester?”
His arm swings so fast I can’t react, even though I should have seen it coming. The back of his hand smacks the side of my face and
my head swings violently into the cave wall. Jagged shards of rock slice my cheek and punch my forehead. Instant pain radiates
from my head, which already hurt to begin with. My hand automatically reaches for the cheek that was struck, now inflamed with a
steady burn. I dare not look back; part in fear, part in trying to control the tears trying to force their way out. I will not cry for them.“My
name is Finley,” the jerk adds. “And as a matter of fact, I am in the court system. I’m the Warden of this prison, though I usually don’t
have to make an appearance. I don’t like to make an appearance. I detest this place and everything in it. But thanks to you, here I
am.”
With my tears under control, I turn to face him, eyes glaring back with murderous passion.“Maybe if you hadn’t imprisoned me
wrongfully I wouldn’t be here to bother you with escape attempts.” His silence chills me to the bone. I’m not sure if he’ll strike me
again, so my body immediately tenses, awaiting impact. When he doesn’t, I add, “I don’t belong here and you know it.”
He chuckles to himself and paces the diameter of the hole. The spriggan standing guard behind him sends an amused sneer my
way. “You don’t belong here,” he replies, mocking me. “Tell me this, number sixty-eight. Has anyone come looking for you? Anyone
at all?”
Anger flushes my cheeks, and my fists clinch on the sides of my body.“You ran through the barrier easily enough. So you know
anyone could have walked into the prison and saved you at any time. But they haven’t. Because you’re replaceable. Your Hollow
never even sent a search party because you’re not worth the effort.“You didn’t have a lover back home either, did you? Nor a family
to stand up and fight for you.” He pauses dramatically and cocks his eyebrows, challenging me to correct him. He chuckles when I
don’t. “Trust me. You’re right where you belong.”
I turn my gaze away, his words hurting me more than I like to admit, because no one has come for me. Or at least never found me.
My chest takes on weight and my torso sinks lower to the ground.“The quicker you admit that to yourself, the quicker I’ll let you out of
this hole and put you back with your inmates. Got it, sixty-eight?”
Annoyed, I spit, “My name is Rosalie.”
He bends at the waist to level our eyes. They’re cold and dark and chilling. “You have no name. Just a number.”
I’m fuming inside, but decide silence is my best defense for the moment. When I refuse to take the bait, he rises and spins toward
the spriggan. “I see you’ve already had your water ration for today. Here’s your fruit.” He pulls a mini strawberry from his pocket, but
before I can even contemplate whether it’s worth reaching for, he drops it on the floor and squishes it with the sole of his shoe. “Eat
up. You’ll need your strength for our session tomorrow.”
He roars with wicked laughter as he takes flight. The spriggan, with his eerie smile in the flickering shadows, grabs the lantern and
ascends behind him, leaving me in darkness once again.
I debate a good ten minutes about whether or not to eat the strawberry. What he’s done is demeaning, but I can’t deny the hunger
within. I missed breakfast the day I ran, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here; long enough my stomach seems annoyed over
having food in front of me that I’m not eating.
I do the unthinkable and suck it up…literally. I try not to think about the number of pixies that have lain on this floor before me,
possibly defecating in this very spot. The strawberry is a necessity if I’m to endure whatever Finley has in mind for me tomorrow. I
find the strength to suck up a few water puddles as well, holding my nose so I won’t taste anything more. Luckily, I think my taste
buds are still missing-in-action, so it’s only a matter of overcoming my mind that what I’m doing is disgusting.
Proud of myself for not being a complete pushover, I find a spot on the ground that doesn’t seem to poke any part of my body and
allow myself to rest. No matter how much he pushes, no matter how much he hurts me emotionally or physically, I will not roll over
and die easily. If he hates coming out here to deal with me, then I’ll make sure to ruin every damn day I have left in me.
I guess Finley couldn’t be bothered to come torture me yesterday because I’m certain more than a day has passed. Not even a
spriggan came with food and water. Not surprising, really, considering they left me without sustenance for four days before. I pray
they don’t do that again. Without someone to nurture me back to health, I’m as good as dead if left here in that condition.
I’m quietly lying on my side when I hear voices echoing in the distance. One voice snaps at another. Finley. My conviction is tested
as my heart immediately panics and thumps madly within my chest. As the faerie and spriggan descend my prison and paint it with
light, I find the courage to stand on my feet. I’m already three inches shorter than him; no point trembling like a caged animal.
He’s surprised to see me standing – or amused. I hate that I have to lean the back of one of my shoulders against the wall for
support, and I think he knows it. But still, I will not cower. Willow told me no pixie ever came back the same, and eventually
committed suicide. I know the road before me will be difficult and painful, probably demoralizing, but I will fight it to the best of my
ability for as long as I can find the strength.“Well, well, well. Someone’s got spunk. Perhaps we’re feeding you too much.”
I calm my nerves, releasing long, rhythmic breaths through my nose. I keep my reaction impassive.“Any self-progress yet? Still
believe you’re better than your fellow inmates?”“I’m not better. Just more determined to fight for what’s rightfully mine.”
He shines one of those twisted half-smiles, making his cheek bulge. “Let’s see what we can do about that determination, eh?”
Finley cocks his head in my direction. The spriggan is lightning-quick to wrap his arms around me. I’m powerless against his grasp;
one hand alone can reach all the way around my neck. I scream and thrash against his body with all my might, but he squeezes our
chests together tightly, constricting my lungs and incapacitating my limbs. His hands splay against my spine and the vertebras pop
down the line. I cringe in sickness as his fiery breath disgustingly licks the top of my head. I’d never been held by a male before, and
this isn’t what I pictured for my first time. The spriggan keeps pushing against my spine, squeezing me so tight his own chest
recedes to accept more of mine. My lungs strain madly, trying desperately to pump within an inch of space. Fire burns across my
chest and my limbs begin to tingle. My legs weaken and jiggle in place. A wheezing noise escapes my mouth and the spriggan
suddenly releases my body. I drop lifelessly to the floor, my lungs gasping at the chance to breathe once more.
Something rams hard into my back and I stumble forward. Before I can fight my way back up, the spriggan jumps on my back and
holds me flush to the floor. Protuberances in the rock dig into my hip and left shoulder.“Get off me!” I scream, twisting aggressively,
regretting the movement as the rock tears at my flesh. I feel his hands snatch the base of my wings and every cell in my body
screams in panic. “Noooo!” I choke.
I hear the deafening crack before I feel the sharp pain radiate from my upper wings and down the length of my spine. The screams,
wet tears and chest convulsions are instantaneous, and as much as I try to contain them, I can’t. The veins in my wings overheat and
a fiery burn encroaches the nerves of my spine, sending painful shivers throughout my body.
Finley’s laugh echoes cruelly. “Give it another break.”
I gasp before the spriggan returns pressure to my back and squishes me down. There’s a second crack, this time to the piece
joining my lower wings. I want to scream, but until the spriggan decides to release his weight, all I can do is whimper. Tears flood my
eyes and drench my face. My breaths come short and fast, unable to fill with any more air, and my midsection begins to cramp.
Finley leans down to my line of sight. My vision is blurry and distorted, so I actually see three sets of creepy smiles staring down at
me. “Tell you what. Next time, if you haven’t realized you’re a nobody that belongs here, I’m going to have your wings broken in sixty
-eight places. Just to get it through that thick head of yours.”
I close my eyes and moan, not caring if he sees it as defeat. He’d fare no better against this monstrous beast. I don’t remember
them leaving or the cave fading to darkness. I only awake because a rush of water slaps the floor beside me and rebounds up and
over my body. It drenches my wings, adding more weight to their delicate structure, and I scream as the two breaks shift downward,
intensifying the steady pain. I pull my body into the fetal position and cry my heart out, letting it all out: the cries, the screams, the
trembles; until the dark within the darkness takes me.
Something presses deep against my neck. It’s scratchy enough to snag my hairs and completely unwelcome, but my body doesn’t
seem to react.“Is it alive?” a gruff voice asks.“Seems to be.”
Spriggans. Not Finley. Either way, I find any of their hands touching me disgusting. I snap my head and the hand retreats. I mutter,
“Rosalie.”
One huffs, the other chuckles. A hard metal object suddenly crashes against my forehead and water drowns my head. For a second,
my body jumps at attention, then succumbs to numbness immediately. Multiple soft thumps hit the floor before me, but I don’t open
my eyes until the spriggans take off. Before the light fades, I notice several blueberries scattered across the floor. Lightning fast, I
spring to collect every last one of them, ignoring the sharp pains and cramped muscles throughout my body. I also snag the bucket
before all the water leaks out, catching ripples with my eyes before I’m in complete darkness again.
Blood trickles down my forehead. The only reason I know I’m bleeding is because I feel the warmth of the liquid coating my skin as it
drips down the side of my face. I couldn’t care less in this moment. For the first time in days I have food and water that I haven’t had
to suck off the ground. Three blueberries rock gently in my cupped hands. I sigh gently and indulge every succulent bite, even though
I still can’t really taste anything. But in this moment I remember their flavor, and I swear I can almost taste the semi-sweet juice
zapping the taste buds on my tongue back to life. When finished, I tip the bucket carefully and allow the remaining water to flow
gently into my mouth. The first sip I swallow. The second I take the time to swish thoroughly around my mouth and wet my chalky
dried-out lips. It’s been so long since I’ve brushed my teeth that I’ve almost become accustomed to the velvety overgrowth. I use my
fingernails to scratch away as much residue as possible. I don’t even care that I swallow some of that crap, figuring it’s just one
more thing that my stomach can digest.
I’m really not feeling well. Days without usable water and little to no food on a body that was stick-thin to begin with are making me
waste away before my eyes. I laugh quietly to myself. Before my eyes. As if I can actually see the physical toll my body is going
through. But I can feel it, particularly in my ribs and around my wrists. I didn’t have a lot of muscle left before I got thrown down here,
but at least I was using them. Now that I’m stranded in a small roughly-shaped circular hole, it feels as if my body is eating away at
what muscles I have left. I rub my fingers across my ribs. My skin’s not supposed to dip between each one like that… I want to rise
and at least walk circles around my prison, but I’ve cut the soles of my feet too many times. They’re infected, and each step feels like
I’m walking on shards of glass. The best I can muster is to stretch my legs and extend the muscles as far as they can go in either
direction.
There’s not much left on my bones. If I don’t get out of here soon…
A yellowish glow begins bouncing down the walls and I groan. My captor, with his pompous leer and ridiculous dress descends in a
halo of light that is anything but divine. My wings are incredibly sensitive but the intense pain buzzing through the nerves has faded
enough for my mind to focus on other things. I dare not let Finley know this, and continue to feign pain so he may not be as brutal
today.
He lands softly on his feet, disposes of the lantern to free his hands and prances the remaining steps between us, where I sit mostly
in shadow. He hasn’t come with a spriggan today so maybe if I keep my mouth shut, nothing bad will happen. Of course I have to
pinch my hands just to keep myself from gouging out his eyes when he leans in close enough to brush my nose. I’d back away if I
wasn’t already pinned against the wall. He’s been wearing that heavy velvet far too long and it takes everything within me not to
wince from the stench of body odor.“Looking a little worse for the wear, sixty-eight.” His breath today rivals that of a spriggan.
Likewise, you jerk. “Rosalie,” I reply, showing no emotion whatsoever.
So much for quiet indifference.
He strokes the prickly hairs on his chin, a despicable smile spreading as he continues to glare at me. “Still going that route, eh?” He
thumps the end of my nose and the urge to scratch at his bristly face intensifies. My jagged, broken fingernails dig deeper into the
flesh of my palm. “Well, we’ll see how you fare the next time we come to break your wings.”“Finley!” a male calls from above. His
voice is smooth like a faerie’s. Just what I need. Another overdressed buffoon. “You down there?”
He stares at me before calling back, “Jack. Come down.”
Finley stands as the second faerie descends into the hole. At least this one is dressed normally in dark leggings and a white short-
sleeved v-neck, though someone should tell him the curly mop hairstyle he’s sporting is out of fashion. His skin is a creamy peach,
which is a few hues lighter than mine. I think he’s still a teen, but he could be borderline adult. On the bright side, Jack doesn’t come
off as a prick like Finley.“My father said you wanted to see me?”“Yes.” Finley’s hand sweeps in my direction and his lips take on an
ugly sneer. “Meet sixty-eight. Your new responsibility.” I swear internally but bite my tongue. My wings can’t take another breaking
today.
Jack’s head snaps my way and he looks to me with dread. “What?” His nose pinches like he suddenly caught wind of something
foul.“Sixty-eight can’t be released back into the prison until we’ve broken her desire to flee. Once you’ve achieved that, you’re free to
go.” He slaps Jack roughly on the back of the shoulder.
Jack huffs and backs away, ready to take flight. Defiantly, he says, “I’m not watching her.”“Remember that little stunt you pulled last
month with that twit of a friend of yours?”
Aghast, Jack hollers dramatically, “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”
Finley’s wicked smile transfers from me to Jack and I wonder what exactly he and his friend did to land him here with me. “Guess it
doesn’t seem so funny now, does it?”
With resign, Jack asks, “I don’t believe this. How long will this crap take?”
Finley thrusts the lantern into Jack’s chest, then flies upward slowly. “Well, I suppose that’ll depend on the manner in which you
choose to break her.” The jerk actually winks at me. Jack’s a little slower to take off, giving me a lengthy glare before leaving me in
darkness. Once he passes over, his voice muffles as he chases Finley down the cave passage; the volume of his bellows
suggesting he’s complaining all the way.
I may have beaten the whistle on my prick assessment.
Curses echo throughout the cave and a steady glow lights the upper part of my hole. Jack hovers in the air, flitting back and forth.
“Freakin’ unbelievable! One stupid joke and I’m stuck babysitting pixie delinquents! I can’t believe my father agreed to this!”
Great. I’ve gone from a jerk to a spoiled brat watching me. Flippin’ fantastic.
You know, I’ve never truly hated the faeries. I knew other fae existed, and probably other Hollows, I just never dwelled on it because I
never saw them. So I’ve never formed an opinion of them. But honestly, this species has just about pushed me to the limit on my
patience scale. No wonder my Hollow hides away without contacting other groups.
After continuing his rant of it’s so unfair for an additional ten minutes, I’m close to snapping. I’m already wishing I had Finley back. At
least the things he did knocked me unconscious for a day or two. But one thing’s for sure: Jack is nothing like Finley and anything
but intimidating.
After cursing yet again, I’m quick to snap, “Hey! If you’re going to keep whining, could you take it elsewhere?”
His fluttering stops and he looks down to the darkness, appalled, but I don’t care; this guy is way less scary than Finley.
Sarcastically, he bellows, “Oh, I’m sorry! Am I bothering you?”“Yeah. As a matter of fact you are. Could you stuff it for awhile?
Thanks.”
I think I threw him for a loop. His mouth opens but he doesn’t know how to respond. He ducks out of view but the light doesn’t dim.
Next thing I know, a pail of water is smashing into the ground and my heart jumps against my ribs, so hard I’m surprised it’s still
contained.“Oops!” he shouts. “My bad!”
Well, at least he didn’t drop it directly on me like the others. Every cell in my body protests but I quickly lean to sit it topside before all
the water is lost to the ground. While I’m up, pellets fall all around me, a few pricking my back. I pat the ground aimlessly. Seeds!
“Hey!” he calls. “Need a light?”“Uh-oh,” I mutter, my eyes fearfully looking topside.
A wave of light rushes towards me. A burst of adrenaline shoots my heart into overdrive. Once again it doesn’t hit me, but I’m not
sure it’s from a lack of trying…I’m hard to see in the darkness. The glass lantern smashes to pieces on the opposite side, and I
instinctively duck and protect my head, but nothing seems to nick my skin.“You jerk!”“Have a nice dinner!” Under his breath, he
adds, “Freakin’ pixie,” but I still hear it.“My. Name. Is. ROSALIE!”“I. Don’t. CARE!” he shouts back, his voice fading more and more
the farther he travels away from my hole.“Arrgghh!” I shout. I’m so tired of these jerk faeries treating me like I’m in the wrong here! “I’
m not a criminal! I haven’t done anything to deserve this!”
If Jack’s still close enough to hear, he doesn’t respond. I’m left to sulk and cry in silence, but at least I’ve got some fat and protein to
put into my body again.
Alright, I may have been quick to judge afterall. Though Jack was really angry the first two days and threw my rations down the hole,
the last two days he didn’t. Just like yesterday, when I awake from my nap today – er, passing out from exhaustion – I feel my food in
a nice pile and my water bucket sitting properly with enough to actually cleanse my skin. My rations haven’t gotten any bigger, but at
least Jack’s feeding me daily. It’s nice not having to scavenge the floor for what meager morsels I can find. And I’m still coming
across shards of glass that nick my fingers and pierce my knees and feet, so it’s nice to avoid that too.
Apparently, Jack only guards me during the day; he’s free to go where he pleases at night. When he’s here I never see him, but I can
hear him though. He fancies the harmonica, and I too, have come to enjoy listening to him play, though I dare not say so. The
hypnotizing melodies calm my nerves and soothe my mind. I even recognize some of his tunes. I don’t know why that surprises me,
given the history of our species. Several centuries ago we were mostly segregated, but we still intermingled with one another. I
imagine we shared simple things with one another, like music. Some of his music reminds me of home, of Poppy and me and some
of our fellow pixies, and how we used to sing them when we were young.
The top of my hole is constantly bathed in a warm glow while he’s here. Out of sight but almost within reach. How I wish that light
could sink a little farther down. I don’t know if it’s from starvation, dehydration or what, but these past few days I’ve been seeing
things. Even though it’s pitch black, I awake in a fright, sure there’s something moving around the hole with me. My poor heart can’t
take any more scares right now; it’s already so weak.
I’m surprised Jack’s done nothing to coerce me into thinking I belong here, like Finley demanded. He doesn’t starve me, deprive me
of water, yell at me, hit me or even threaten me. Nothing. I haven’t even seen him since that first day. Not that I’m complaining or
anything, but I worry what Finley will do if he ever finds out my body is slowly healing itself.“What are you doing up here?” Finley yells
from up top, snapping me awake as his voice rumbles down my hole. “Why aren’t you down there? Do I need to find a faerie-sitter
for you too?”“What? I’m taking a break,” Jack replies, not a hint of guilt in his voice. “I’m not going to beat on her twenty-four seven.
Eventually she passes out, you know?”