Finley huffs. My body cringes as he descends, and right up behind him…two spriggans!
Oh, this isn’t good.
My heart sputters to life, beating erratically until it figures out a rhythm it can keep up with. I desperately try to stiffen my arms to hide
the uncontrollable trembles that are painfully obvious right now. I can’t let him see I’m scared! As much as I would like to force myself
to stand up and meet him, I just can’t do it. I’ve eaten as well as I can expect for the past couple of days, but it’s not enough to
reverse the damage already inflicted upon my body. I get dizzy merely standing in place.“Sixty-eight. My not-so-favorite pixie. How’s
our progress going?”
I think the question is for Jack, who’s pressed against the back wall behind the two monstrous beasts. There’s just not enough room
in this sorry excuse for a hole.“Jack!” he snaps.
Jack pushes his way between the spriggans. “Oh. Uh, just ask her and see.”
Lovely. I know I’m on my own, but he could have at least said he’d beaten me senseless multiple times and made me cry. Anything
but uh. At least there’s no physical evidence he’s been feeding me. If my ribs are any indication, I’m sure my body appears more
emaciated than ever.“Well?” he asks in a taunting manner. I stare lifelessly at him for several seconds. When I don’t respond, he
snaps his fingers before my eyes, convinced I’m in a trance.
Physically, I’m too tired to even blink a response. My defiance, however, is stronger than ever and doesn’t know when to just shut up
and play dead. “If you have a question, ask. But I’m only going to respond to my name from now on, which is Rosalie.”
Finley huffs in exasperation and turns to give Jack a fierce glare. When he spins his body, his foot uproots and takes a new position
…right on the spot where I defecated yesterday. The sole on his shoe squeaks, but it’s not until the laughter rising from my chest
becomes loud that he looks to his feet. He probably thought it was just water at first, but the brownish color will change his mind.
I bury my head in my knees, so I don’t get to see his reaction, but I do hear him gasp. I was never given anything to go in so they had
to know to watch their step, but there was no way this wouldn’t turn out to be my fault.
Finley is beyond ticked. He yells, “Break her wings!”
I gasp, but before I can even lift my head in reaction, two sets of hands are invading my body, maneuvering me into a position on my
knees I have no chance of escaping.
Finley cracks his knuckles. “Let’s go for the full sixty-eight breaks this time. We’ll see how long you’re laughing then.”
I hang my head low, refusing to let him see my face, because fear has me clinching my neck and facial muscles as tightly as I can.
The first snap comes from the tip of my upper right wing. I cry out, but it’s not as bad as I expect.“One,” Finley says dryly.
The second comes from the opposite spot, and my teeth cut into my bottom lip. Again, it hurts, but not as bad as breaking the base
of my wings.“Two.”
The third goes a little a deeper and tears well up behind my eyes, stinging harshly. By the fourth, I can’t contain them and tears flood
my face. What water I put into my body these past two days is coming back out. My chest heaves and I finally scream on the fifth
break, when they close in on the spots already damaged. By nine I’m squirming as hard as I can but with two monstrous beasts atop
me, it’s hopeless. By twelve I’m begging, “Please. Please stop.” I’m ashamed these words pass my lips, even more when it makes
Finley laugh wickedly loud.
I feel like a massive bee hive has attacked my back, stinging madly, deep enough to pierce my spine in every spot possible. A fiery
rage inflames my vertebrae, licking the nerves that carry out to my body, spreading the burn even farther. The strength of my
structural support collapses and my body goes limp in their arms; but still, they continue to break bits and pieces of my delicate
wings.
The last thing I hear is Finley singing, “Twelve.”
I’m running through a forest of luscious greens and browns, cheerfully giggling as my pursuer tries catching me. I hear her call my
name, waiting for me to give away my location, but she’ll never hear the pads of my feet over the joyous sounds of nature
overflowing the trees. I jump through the air, grasping vines that swing me farther than my little legs can run.“Rosalie,” Poppy calls
out in song. I’m still way ahead, zipping and turning random directions off the beaten paths. Here the moss grows wild on the
ground, making it more slippery and difficult to grip the soles of my mud-covered feet; but still I run, giddy and laughing as Poppy
gives chase. The wind lifts me off my feet and carries me several feet before I make impact again, and then I continue on my way.
My loose hair whips freely and my reddish streaks shimmer each time I cross a stray sunbeam.
I come across a babbling brook, with water splashing playfully amongst the rocks, sprinkling me as I jump from one rock to another
to cross it.
Weird – the water isn’t cool and refreshing like I expect. Paying no mind, I burst through the wall of vines hanging in my way. It slows
my playful run, snagging and pulling on my arms and legs. My skin begins to singe where they touch and I panic. The more I struggle
to free myself, the more the vines snap and tighten their grip, burning and twisting my skin.
I scream and tears burst through my eyes. Poppy appears at the brook behind me, but she won’t cross over to help me. She just
stands there with her hands cupping her mouth, shaking her head back and forth, mumbling what I think is my name over and over
again. I beg her to help me, the aggressive vines pulling me farther into their grasps. The tendrils wrap around my wings and burn
the intricate web of veins the magic runs through, the pain too much to bear. I whimper as they close completely around me,
suffocating me with darkness.
I awake by the brook, my limbs mangled as if the vines just tossed me away once through with their torture. Pieces of me still sting,
but most of the pain has reduced to numbness. Poppy sits beside me, her hands covered with the mud she’s spreading over my
wounds, cooling the inflammation that burns my skin.“Drink the water, Rosalie,” she says softly. “You need it.”
I want to do what she asks, knowing she’s right, but my limbs refuse to budge, buried deep in the mud she’s covering me with. I
moan in protest, and by some miracle of Mother Nature, the water jumps magically from the brook and lands gently in my mouth.
This time, the brook’s miracle elixir is cool and soothing as it paints the linings of my mouth and throat. I sigh in sweet release and
let Poppy soothe me to sleep with each gentle stroke.
When I awake the next time, Poppy greets me with a smile. “There. Now that’s better, isn’t it?”
I smile and stretch my limbs, feeling only the numbness where I knew I once hurt. “Thank you, Poppy. I don’t know what I’d do without
you.”
She shrugs. “Burn to death in fiery pain, I guess.”
I do a double-take in her direction; it was an odd thing for Poppy to say, but I let it slide. I rise awkwardly to my feet, reaching for the
nearest tree to support my balance. Standing is making me dizzy, which immediately makes me nauseous. “Let’s go home, Poppy.
I don’t feel so well.”“What do you mean?” she asks, looking at me in confusion. “We are home.”“What? No we’re not. Come on, I don
’t want to play anymore. I just want to fly home.”“Fly home? You can’t fly silly. You haven’t got any wings.”
Instinctively, I try fluttering my wings, readying my eyes for the biggest eye roll ever. But nothing flutters. Just as I reach around to
check the base of my wings, I catch my own reflection in the brook.
I gasp in utter horror. My wings are gone!
I really hate waking up on this floor. There’s an obvious difference between sleeping and passing out. With sleeping, I’m able to
move around enough to keep my body from staying in one position too long. With passing out, I’m stuck in that position the entire
time and it doesn’t feel good when I awake. I ache all the way to the core of my bones. Surprisingly, my wings, which I expect to be
giving off the most excruciating pain ever, are numb of all things. The cartilage that protects the edge of my wings, the veins, and
even my spine are oddly pain free. There’s a little tingling going on, but mostly, my entire wing structure is hardly bothering me.
Can shock do this? Am I so far gone my body doesn’t acknowledge pain anymore?
I gently apply some pressure to the three areas, and sure enough, I feel very little. With sixty-eight breaks, I should be crying and
screaming right now.
That’s when I realize there’s something different. It takes me a minute to arrange the thoughts in my head into something cohesive.
I just examined my wings…with my eyes!
There’s light…from a lantern on the floor….just sitting there…by itself. I look to the top and see no one, hear nothing. But what
surprises me even more than the presence of light and a full bucket of water, is a large cup filled with food.
I lean over and grab the thin wooden container. My eyes bulge when I see that it’s filled to the rim with all sorts of seeds and nuts:
wildflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, peanuts, apple seeds, and my all-time favorite, sunflower seeds. This is the most food I’ve
received in one sitting since I got here and by far the most variety, so I’m immediately suspicious given my current circumstances. I
handle a few pieces but nothing feels weird. Nor do they smell like they’ve been sprayed or coated with anything.
I’m at a loss, unsure of what to make of this. My stomach, however, urges me to eat them regardless of a possible negative
outcome. Fearfully, I lift a trembling hand and pop a sunflower seed into my mouth. Hey, I figure if I’m going to die of poison, then I’m
going to at least savor my favorite flavor before I do. The seed is everything I expect – crunchy and nutty tasting – and nothing I don’t.
I figure they’re safe to eat.
Part of me – the hungry, growling stomach part – wants me to devour the meal in a single bite. The other part of me wants to savor
what could very well be the last meal of my life (because I’m still suspicious of this generous, abundant meal). I decide to placate
both parts, first by shoveling a few handfuls into my mouth, then savoring the rest of the cup slowly. I’m still working my way through
the bottom half when I spot Jack coming down.
I knew it was too good to be true.
I half expect him to tell me he’s glamoured my meal and I’ve been savoring a cup of dried excrement, but I doubt Jack could ever be
that cruel – only Finley seems the type so far. For a moment he stands there awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do, and his
body language leaves me puzzled. I cock my head and squint my eyes, waiting for him to do something other than stare.“You’re
awake.” I think he says it more for himself than expect an actual answer from me. Wordlessly, he pulls a soup canteen from the
satchel slung across his body from his shoulder to his waist, and holds it out before him. “I didn’t think you’d wake before I left
tonight, so I left you the seeds just in case. But I really think you should drink this before the nuts. It’ll be easier on your system.”
He passes me the canteen and my hand reaches out to automatically accept.“Are you okay?” he asks. His tone surprises me. It
almost seems heartfelt.
Despite my suspicion and utter disdain for the faerie species at the moment, I keep my reply civil. “I’ll live. It wasn’t the first time they’
ve broken my wings. I doubt it’ll be the last.”
He winces and rocks back and forth on his heels, his head falling as it shakes. It’s impossible to make eye contact with his loose
waves sweeping the air before his eyes, and I can’t help but wonder what his game is. He clears his throat, grabs a roll out of his
satchel and passes it between his hands. My stomach obviously gets the message and growls in protest. Lovely. Tease me more
please, I think, rolling my eyes. Surprisingly, Jack extends the bread and offers it to me.“Here. You need this more than I do.”
I mindlessly accept again, watching his facial expressions for a hint of betrayal, but I see nothing. Either he’s very good at deception
or he’s actually sincere…which confuses me. Jack went from absolute hatred to completely aloof to shy and compassionate.
Something smells and it’s not the corner of the cave where I relieve myself. Not being able to stand it anymore, I ask in an
accusatory tone, “Why are you being so nice to me?”“You seem…really thin and malnourished.” His eyes fixate on my bare torso, so
I assume he’s focusing in on my ribs. I see for the first time what they look like in the light and what I see breaks my heart. There’s no
muscle left between the skin and bones, and just like I felt when I examined myself, the areas between the ribs dip. Self-conscious, I
set the bread and canteen down and wrap my arms around my waist.“Well, that’s what happens when your only source of food and
water gets dumped on you inside a pitch black hole. Or squished on the floor like Finley likes to do.” I didn’t care that I was coming
off rude and sarcastic. He’d been an absolute jerk to me for a couple of days and then pretended I didn’t exist for the rest.“I guess I
deserve that.”
My eyes pinch harder, as if doing so will allow me to see magic flowing off him and prove I was hallucinating this conversation or
something. “Again. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”
He digs the toe of his shoe into the ground, which is probably tearing the soft material apart. “What they did to you…with your wings
…that ain’t right. No one deserves that, no matter what you did. You’re not a flight risk. Not with that metal on your back weighing you
down.”“Jack, is it?” He nods. “Your faerie buddies stole me from my Hollow. Shot a dart right into my neck. I woke up in this hole with
broken wings and a number inked on my skin.” I pause to show him the sixty-eight on my wrist. “I was abandoned and starved for
four days, dumped into a pit and forced into slavery at the brink of death. Then, ‘cause I had the audacity to run and fight for my
freedom, I was tossed into this pit under the care of a jerk that likes to throw what little rations I get at me. What part of any of that
seems right to you?”“What did you do?”
I scowl. “What do you mean, what did I do?” As if this is all my fault or something!“I mean, what did you do to get thrown into this
prison?”
Flabbergasted, I spit, “I didn’t do anything! I was taken!”“Yeah, all right. I get that. But you all broke the law in some way or another,
so what did you do to get yourself imprisoned?”
I’m not sure how long I stare at him, trying to wrap my head around what he just said. I have a feeling my expression is conveying my
thoughts because he’s quick to ask, “What?”“Are you…under the impression that the pixies imprisoned here have done something
wrong?”“Uh, yeah.”“None of the pixies I met broke any laws. I haven’t broken any laws. We were stolen for no reason other than
slave labor! So excuse me if I don’t want to go along with it!”
He’s looking at me funny. “That…doesn’t make sense. We’re all aware this prison exists and what you do here, but we’ve always
been told you were criminals. That you were guilty of a crime towards a faerie, and that’s why you’re being punished here and not
back in your Hollow.”
I shake my head in disbelief. You’ve got to be flippin’ kidding me! “No, Jack. Do I look like the kind of pixie you’d expect to see in a
prison?”
His lips press firmly together and his gaze falls elsewhere. He whispers, “I wonder if my father knows.”“What?” I snap.
I guess he didn’t mean for me to hear that because he seems to disregard my question. His head bends back to look topside,
though for what I can’t figure. “Look, it’s pretty much the end of my shift. You took a long time to wake up from…that…what they did
to you.“Eat that,” he adds, motioning to the soup and bread on the floor before me. I had forgotten. “I don’t think anyone will come to
check on you tonight, but if they catch you with the canteen, just tell them I chucked it at you.”
I huff. Sadly, they’ll believe that. They’ll probably even commend him for it.
He picks up the lantern and says, “Sorry, but I’ve got to take the light with me. I wouldn’t want them catching you with it while I’m
gone.” I nod slowly, my insides groaning, not looking forward to being in darkness again. “Do you need the light for anything before I
go?” I mash my lips together and drop my head, shaking it. I’m suddenly overcome with sadness and I don’t know why.“Rosalie?” he
asks softly, and I slowly lift my head to meet his green gaze, my eyes wide with surprise that he used my name. He steps closer to
me, looking like he wants to ask me something important, but falls back on his heels and comes to an abrupt halt. “Goodnight,
Rosalie.”
And just like that he ascends, and with him the light I so desperately want.
I sit in darkness for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust. You wouldn’t think they’d need to focus when all you see is black, but
they do, making you dizzy until they do. First thing I do is unscrew the lid to the canteen. I really should have inspected the soup while
I had light, just in case something’s fishy with it. Even though Jack is playing the nice faerie, I just can’t bring myself to trust him. I sniff
the soup but can’t really make out the ingredients. The moist heat warms my nostrils, and I realize this is the first warm food I’ve had
since I was stolen. I take a small sip but don’t taste anything. It’s thin like water, but I can tell there’s some kind of flavoring in it, it’s
just too weak for me to decipher. I take a gulp of what I assume must be some type of broth and set it aside, giving my stomach time
to decide if it’s okay with the ingredients.
I grab the bread next and take a deep sniff. Mmm…it’s been so long since I’ve had bread. A smile curls my lips because even my
barely-there senses can catch the strong whiff of yeast. I pull a piece free and lay it upon my tongue, allowing my salivary enzymes to
break it down as I gently gum it, savoring what little flavor I can taste.
Within minutes I devour the broth and bread. I hate to eat the rest of my seeds, thinking it best to hold off on eating them until later,
but you never know who or when someone will show up. I fear they’ll take the cup away if they see it, so I spend the next hour nibbling
as I think of my life back home. I wonder if Tin or Mustard decided to court Poppy. I know she’ll jump and squeal with joy the moment
one of them decides she’s the one for him. I think it’ll be Mustard. He seems to dote on her more than Tin.
I can’t help but wonder if anyone would have asked me if I were still there. Tracker might have been considering it. He did go out of
his way to chase me down and check up on me. I can almost imagine what a life with him would be like, and that it would have been
better than spending life alone. My last day in the Hollow was the first time he ever tried to talk to me alone. Did he like me? Is he
curious at all about where I went, or does he really think I’m flighty enough to just take off and take the world on all by myself? Though
I’m glad he sees me as someone strong and brave enough to do that, my independence all these years may be why no one’s
bothered to think twice about my disappearance.
And that saddens me. Did I not open up to anyone enough to make them realize the difference? Not even Poppy? All those years
we spent together as close friends and roommates…does she not know me at all?
I’m not sure what time it is when I awake, but I don’t see anything topside to make me believe Jack has come yet. As I rise to sit up,
a blood-curdling scream comes roaring out of me.
Oh-my-Mother-Nature! MY WINGS!
Every part of my wings, the cartilage, the veins, the nerves that connect to my spine…I’ve never felt such excruciating pain! Tears
rush out and I’m screaming, moaning, and heaving uncontrollably. Anything more than a small breath increases the spinal pain
tenfold, so I’m forced to take short, quick breaths, but they’re so jerky it amplifies my pain anyway.
I can’t take it…I can’t take it!
I throw my stomach back on the ground, scraping skin along the jagged pieces of earth, and probably bruising the bones that no
longer have any protective padding. My eyes are pinched tight, but I see my eyelids change from black to pink, and hear Jack
saying my name as he lands beside me.“Please,” I beg between gasps, choking on tears, “Please knock me out.”
I don’t wait for his help. Unbearable pain driving my actions, I lift my head off the ground as high as it will go and slam it back on the
rock without hesitation. Intense pain radiates from my temple and spreads throughout my head, and all I can do is weakly moan, too
exhausted to move anything more.
Frantic, Jack yells, “What are you doing? Stop!”
Drool seeps from the corner of my mouth and all I can think is how much I want to slam my head again. “Please,” I plea with a weak
puff of air.“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” I hear metal scraping. When his fingers stroke my back I let out a scream I didn’t know I had the lung
capacity to give. The adrenaline causes my back to recoil, lifting my head, shoulders, and bent legs off the ground so my body fomrs
an awkward U-shape. When it collapses, my head slams hard into the ground again. There’s an intense shot of pain, then my world
goes dark.
There’s a warm glow on the other side of my pale red eyelids, bathing my eyes with a soft, rosy pink. My eyes flutter as I awake,
shaking loose some of the crust encapsulating them. I groan as the grogginess in my head intensifies, the strain behind my eyes the
main source of my discomfort. Surprisingly, Jack sits across the way, leaning back against the wall. His arms are crossed and his
head hangs low, so I think he’s nodded off.
My back aches a little, but the extreme shots of pain bursting through my nerves have ceased. I grumble as I lift myself up on my
arms. I never want to feel that way again. I like to think I’m tough enough to handle anything Finley’s willing to throw my way, but that
…breaking my wings to the point…I just hope my nightmare of no longer having wings doesn’t come true.
I slowly sit myself up to the butterfly position, careful not to nudge my wings against even the slightest of touches. A rush of dizziness
hits me as I rise but levels out a moment later. Beside me lay a gray cotton shirt smudged with blood that was protecting my poor
head from the rocky floor. I reach up to examine my head and hiss when I find the sensitive cut on my right temple.
Across from me, Jack stirs and bobs his head a few times before waking. It dawns on me that he’s bare-chested, and that the shirt
used to protect my injury came straight off his back. I’ll admit the guy is pleasingly fit. His body resembles a few of the pixies back
home, who like to work bare-chested under the sun. Jack is just like them, just a little larger all over.“Sorry,” I say, genuinely meaning
it. “I don’t think you’ll be able to clean this.” I toss his shirt towards him.
He crumples it up into a ball and tosses it aside. “That’s alright. Maybe if I walk pass Finley in it it’ll convince him I spent the day
beating you.” He gives me a weak smile. “How’s your back now?”
I look left, then right. My wings are too damaged to open, and the clamp denies me that ability anyways, so I can only see the lower
tips. It’s enough to make me cringe. The cartilage that lines my wings is broken in multiple places, as are a lot of the veins and
crossveins, and the transparent material that holds the veins together is ragged and parched of nutrients. No shimmer anywhere. No
magic. My eyes tear at the thought of never taking flight again. How can they possibly recover from this?
My tears cause Jack to jump to his feet and rush over, his eyes strained with concern. “What? Do they still hurt?”
I shake my head and sweep the tears away. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…I don’t see how they can come back from this.”
Jack squats back on his legs and releases a deep breath of air. “I wish I could tell you, Rosalie, but I don’t know either. I’ve never
seen a fae with this much damage.“But do they hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head again. “What did you do to them?” I know he did something while I was passed out.
He pulls a metal container from the satchel and unscrews it, showing me a firm, creamy substance with a hint of medicinal herbs
strong enough to burn my nose when I inhale. “It’s a numbing salve that my mother makes. It’s got some stuff in it to help fight
inflammation too.” He screws the lid shut again. “Sorry I didn’t get it on you in time. Usually you get twenty-four hours of relief, but I
should have known with this much damage you wouldn’t make it.”“You’ve put that on me before?”“Yeah. Both days. Finley made me
leave the day they broke your wings, but I came back the next morning and put it on you. And again yesterday. I guess it probably
wore off at some point in between, but you must have been asleep when it did and didn’t notice. Had I gotten it on you first thing this
morning, you probably would have woken up okay.”
My jaw slack, I just stare at him for a moment. Feeding me decent rations and not throwing my food and water at me was one thing,
but giving me pain-relief medicine? Finley would kill him if he knew. And I didn’t really know what to say to that. Why’s he risking his
neck for me? He doesn’t even know me. And he’s a faerie…they look down on pixies.“Which reminds me… Be right back.” He
takes off and disappears over the ledge but returns a moment later with the same canteen he gave me before. Handing it to me, he
says, “Something a little hardier today. Cream of vegetable soup.” I wish my hand wouldn’t snatch it so greedily. “My sister made it.”
With a wicked smile, he playfully adds, “She’s as annoying as a little sister can be, but her cooking makes it worth putting up with
her.”
Yet another society with a strong family dynamic. What the heck was wrong with my Hollow? What happened to make them raise us
the way they do today?“I’d say tell her thank you, but I’m guessing you’ll keep this to yourself.” Jack makes his way back to the
opposite side and gets as comfy as this rock structure will allow. “Wait. This isn’t your lunch you’re giving me every day, is it?” I
motion to hand the canteen back, my stomach screaming at my arm for doing so.
Jack shakes his head, his cool green eyes fixed on me the whole time. “Don’t even think about it. I get breakfast, lunch, dinner and
any snacks I want in between. You get a fistful of seeds in a single day, if you’re lucky. It won’t kill me to miss a meal. You, however…
”
He stops himself from finishing, focusing in on my ribs for a second before catching himself. Then his eyes dart back to my face with
guilt. But I know what he was going to say. That unlike him, missing a meal can very well kill me. Ever since I was thrown down this
hole, I’ve been wasting away rather drastically.
He’s right of course, but I can’t take the sadness in his face. My head falls sideways and I notice the pail of water. I sit the canteen on
the floor and slowly reach to pull the bucket my way. I’m too weak to lift it, so the bucket scrapes roughly against the rock, water
sloshing out in all directions. It takes both arms to lift it towards my lap, and I can’t move it without grunting because I’m literally that
weak from muscle loss.“Don’t,” Jack says. Just the solemn way he says it is enough to draw my attention. He’s hard to read, almost
void of all emotion, but I sense a little sadness in there somewhere. He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t look, Rosalie.”
I pinch my lips tight. The bucket is already sitting in the hole my legs make in the butterfly sitting position. All I have to do is bend my
head. The lantern is close to enough for me to get a really good glimpse of my reflection. I haven’t seen myself since my last shower
in the pit, and even then I was skin and bones, slowly wasting away like the others. I have a pretty good idea of what I look like. I can
do this. I can look and be okay, because there’s nothing I’ll see that I haven’t already seen on a fellow pixie in some shape or form.
I fight his hypnotic gaze, so desperate to keep me looking up, and drop my eyes to the bucket. I gasp, my lower jaw unhinging and
dropping open. No, it must be an illusion. This can’t be me.“No…” I whisper, still in disbelief. My face has completely caved in. My
cheeks: gone. The padding that keeps my eye cavities from looking hollowed out: gone. My hairline: receding a little. I think I can
see every bone in my face. And the skin on my face and neck look thin; papery, almost.“Don’t cry,” he whispers. Even this faerie
who doesn’t know me can tell I’m about to break down.“I haven’t been down here that long, right? I know I was skinny coming in, but
how…how could it be this bad already?”“You’ll turn around, Rosalie. We’ll fatten you back up. I’m just trying to start you slow so your
body can handle processing food again.” With a firm voice, he tells me, “Drink the soup.”
Liquid wells behind my eyes, but I fight the release while I remove the bucket from my lap. I don’t hesitate to pick up the canteen and
remove the lid, but I do pause to smell the soup. Perhaps too long, because Jack is quick to tease, “Still afraid I’m trying to poison
you?” He chuckles quietly at that.
I snap to attention, deciphering any hidden meaning behind those words. I had thought that initially, having no reason to trust a faerie
that kept me hidden and locked away, just to be tortured. I bumble over a few incoherent sounds before finally managing to ask,
“How’d you know that?”
His smile spreads across his face. “Because that’s what I’d be thinking if our roles were reversed. But in all seriousness, you’ve
been drinking the vegetable broth for two days and you’re still here. I promise I’m not waiting to tease you with the cream of
vegetable to do you in.”“Two days? I only had it yesterday, right?”“No,” he answers, crossing his legs and arms. “That first day you
were completely out of it, even with the medicine on your back. Maybe you were in shock. I don’t really know. But I got you to take a
few spoonfuls in the end.”“Oh,” I say bluntly, my eyes shamefully turning away. Was this really the same faerie I hated a week ago?
Throwing food and buckets and lanterns recklessly down my hole? If what he’s saying is true, he’s been incredibly kind these past
several days. I wish he could have stopped the breakage, but I can tell he’s completely outranked by Finley. Soon enough Finley will
realize Jack’s not trying to break me…then Finley might just break him.“I don’t want you to take this as a complaint or anything,” I say
cautiously, watching his eyes lift at my words, “but after you spent the first couple of days throwing crap at me…” I pause, watching
him cringe with guilt I wasn’t trying to embed, “you hid out up there without making contact. Just kept to yourself and brought my
rations when you knew I was asleep.” I shrug and sway my head. “What changed? You’re feeding me and giving me medicine. Not
that I’m complaining, but you’re doing the complete opposite of what Finley wants.”“Well, Finley’s a jerk. He can punish me and
make me stay here to watch over you, but nothing he says or threatens is going to get me to hit a female. And a tiny one at that. No
offense.”“None taken. In my defense, I was a decent-sized pixie before I came to this hell-hole.”“You mean…” He bounces his arms
out wide from his body. “Plump?”
Laughing, I answer, “No, not plump. Let’s just say…curvy.”
The smile fades from my lips and I feel a daze in my head try to pull me under its spell.“What?” Jack questions.“It’s just…I think that
was the first time I’ve laughed since I was taken.”
The light-heartedness fades from his features as well, my words bringing us back to the reality of our situation. He slowly stands and
the inside of my head moans. I ruined it. For the first time in a long time, I was beginning to enjoy myself. I got to converse with
someone actually willing to converse back. And I blew it.
My heart aches as his wings shake and prepare for flight. “Drink, Rosalie. I’ve got part of a banana up top I want to get for you. It was
the most fattening fruit I could find in our home. We’ve got a long way to go to get your curves back.” He smiles, lifting his eyebrows,
but it all seems a little forced this time.“Oh, finally!” I’d been awake for awhile, unable to fall back asleep. Flippin’ rock floor. I have no
sense of time down here, especially when Jack’s not around. My body swells with sweet relief watching him descend towards me,
bathed in glorious light. I rock my body a few times to build momentum, then climb my way up the wall and on my feet.
Jack lands fast, thumping his feet harshly against the rocky floor. “What are you doing?”“I can’t take it anymore. My muscles
constantly ache,” I whine. “I have to use them before they completely waste away.”“Stop. At least let me check your feet first.”“What?”
I’m at a complete loss when he picks up my right foot to examine my sole. The weight of my body shifts to my left and I can’t support
myself. I tumble forward onto Jack and my weakened leg shakes wildly. “Jack!”
He rubs the padding of my feet before he allows it to drop. “Let me see the other.”“Jack,” I whine, but obey his request the moment I
feel he’s reaching for my left foot regardless. Both my forearms rest over his hunched back. The sparkly glimmer coursing through
the veins of his wings hypnotizes me with envy. His magic glitters the softest blue. How I long to see the shimmer of yellow that
shines off mine. I pray I’ll get to see it again.
His hand scrapes against the rough, dead skin on my heel and I moan from embarrassment. My poor body is absolutely disgusting
right now, parched of the necessary nutrients to quench my body’s thirst, and the thought of someone examining even a small part of
it is humiliating.“Alright.” He lets go of my foot. My hands slide down his back, over the curvature of his bicep and latch onto his arm
as he stands. “Looks like the salve’s gotten your cuts to close over. They’re still pink though, so you may feel it pinch if you walk on it.
Do you want me to numb your feet first?”“You’ve been putting the salve on my feet?”“And your forehead. Don’t you remember
slamming your head against the ground?”“No.” I cock my eyebrows when I add, “But I remember the broken glass from the lantern
cutting up my body while I searched for scraps in the darkness.”
His cheeks flush and his lips press tightly into a thin line.
Speaking of…I don’t recall cutting myself these past few days. I search the ground with my eyes but nothing on the ground catches
and reflects the light.“I picked everything up a few days ago,” he glumly explains. His soft mossy eyes look down to me. “Sorry about
that. I feel really bad.”
I sigh, closing my eyes and shaking my head, completely annoyed with myself for saying that. I know it’s true. He knows it’s true. But
he’s more than made up for it these past few days. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I’m still harboring a little resentment.”
He nods in agreement. “Rightfully so. Do you want me to help you walk around?”“Nah. It’s not like I can go that far. I’m surrounded by
rock in every direction.”“And it’s been ever so thoughtful to catch you multiple times before,” he adds snarkily, blowing a puff of air at
the cut on my forehead. I huff, and feel the slightest tickle in my abdomen.
I release his arm and transfer my balance to the wall of my prison. I won’t lie; just standing there is close to killing me. I grimace with
the first step, a wave of stings snaking up and attacking the muscle in my leg. Jack looks ready to attack me, the way his body jerks
when I scowl with each advancing step. The first trip around the cell is incredibly painful, but the second is better, my muscles
adjusting to the weight and beginning to lengthen. Jack simply stands in the center, rotating to follow my every move, ready to jump
like a nervous tick.“Don’t you think that’s far enough for your first attempt?”
Huffing, I throw him a questionable glare. “Attempt means failure and that’s not in my vocabulary.”“So I’m beginning to see,” he
mutters, crossing his arms, returning the playful glare.“Jack,” I say, unsure of whether or not I should proceed with the question that’s
been in my head all night…and probably the source of my insomnia.“Yeah?”
I turn myself in the opposite direction. I think I’m trying to avoid his gaze, but with him holding steady in the center, I’m hard bent to
avoid it. My heart beats a little faster when I finally find the courage to ask, “Do you ever see the other pixies when you’re here?”