My lips wobbled with happy tears. I whispered, “I love you, Kite.”
Staring at my phone, I read and reread his messages. As much as I wanted to print them off and sleep wrapped up in his words, I had to delete them.
I couldn’t run the risk of Cut finding them.
I had no choice.
Die or kill.
Fight or defeat.
It killed me to drag the entire conversation to the trash and remove it.
Come save me soon.
Come end this before it's too late.
My happiness suddenly squashed as the walls squeezed in on all sides. My mind ricocheted backward, probing old memories.
I couldn’t move from the floor in the alcove. I didn’t know which way was up. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was hold onto the slate tiles and ride wave after wave of vertigo and claustrophobia.
My racing heart deleted years off my lifespan with undiluted panic.
I passed out.
It was a blessing.
By the time Bonnie returned to undo the padlock, I was no longer coherent.
Shaking my head, I rubbed my face.
How many tortures had Elisa suffered before she’d been ‘purified’?
Unknown Number: Goddammit, Nila. I need you so much. I need to show you how much I love you. How much I miss you.
My heart was in pieces without him.
Needle&Thread: I need you, too. So much. Too much. When we’re together again, I’m going to—
A noise wrenched my head up.
No!
My eyes fell on the unprotected door.
Please no!
The one awful thing about being so sick was I’d had no strength to push aside the dresser to keep me safe.
The phone came alive in my hands, claiming my attention.
Incoming call from Unknown Number. Answer?
The device vibrated urgently, begging me to accept its challenge.
Jethro…
My soul wept. I wanted so, so, so much to answer.
But I can’t.
Locking the phone screen, I shoved it under my pillow.
You didn’t delete the last message.
The door swung open.
Too late.
Daniel appeared, gloating and cocky. “It’s time for another game, Nila. And we can’t be late.”
I LEANED OVER my brother.
The tubes and heart monitor made him look like some Frankenstein monster—pieced together with scraps from the man I once called friend, held together by sorcery and sheer luck.
His skin held a slightly yellow hue; his lips cracked and dry, parted to allow the tube down his throat.
The doctors had done all they could—patched him up and kept his heart pumping. It was up to him now.
A week and a half had passed. Ten excruciatingly long days. If it wasn’t for regular messages with Nila, I would’ve gone out of my mind with worry.
Her texts kept me sane.
Every hour, I grew stronger. I pushed myself until pain bellowed and my endurance improved. Every minute, I plotted my game plan, and every second, I thought of Nila.
She replied at night. Both of us under the same sky, writing by starlight, sending forbidden messages. She was in the world I used to inhabit; I was in a grave sent there by my father.
Yet nothing could keep us apart.
Soon, we’d both be free.
However? her messages weren’t like before. When Nila was still at home with her father and brother, she’d been timid and easily embarrassed. She’d been sweet and so damn tempting in her innocence. But now her texts were shaded with what she didn’t say. She kept so much back, only telling me what I wanted to hear.
It was fucking frustrating.
Why don’t you answer my calls, Nila?
Every time I’d dialled in-between our messages, she’d always ignored me and disappeared. Almost as if lying to me by innate characters was all she was capable of.
I needed to talk to her. I needed to find out the truth.
What I really need is to get out of this fucking place.
My side twinged, reminding me that I might be going out of my mind with impatience but I still wasn’t fight worthy.
Goddammit.
Kes’s heart rate monitor never stopped its incessant monotone beeping. I willed it to spike, to show some sign of him waking up.