Chapter 28: 28. The Edge of Madness

 *Warning: This chapter contains scenes and descriptions that some readers may find triggering/disturbing.*

 

 

- ARELLIA -

 

“If she screams again, kill her.” The man says. Panic washes over me. I sob hysterically into a rough hand. It is hard to breathe, my chest rises and falls rapidly. I am going to die here. 

“Shut her up, Marco!” A woman shouts somewhere in the background. They tie a piece of cloth over my eyes. When the hand is removed from my mouth, I gag and retch onto the ground. I cannot breathe. It feels like all the air is sucked from my lungs. 

“Fucking disgusting. She smells like shit, too. Get her over here!” 

“P-please!” I plead frantically but they do not let me continue as a boot connects to my shin. I scream.

“I said shut her the fuck up!” 

“She screamed again. Let’s kill her.” A man with a thick foreign accent says to my right.

“No, she’s our ticket. We need her alive, fuckface.”

“But boss said to kill her if she screams. She screamed, so let’s kill her-” I hear the shuffling of boots against gravel. I do not know how many of them there are. 

“We can kill her and blame the Khronish. Who’s going to know?” My stomach knots. I shake my head violently and sob. I cannot stop shaking. They are going to kill me. What if it is painful? What will they do? Where is Dillon? Has Dillon abandoned me? I curl into a ball, my breaths are uneven as I start to hyperventilate. All I feel is fear and pain. 

“Fucking pathetic.” The woman whispers into my ear, then I hear her get up and walk away. “Gag her!” 

“She’s pale for an Illyan. Nice face too.” I hear them leer in the background. I claw at the gravel and sand. I have to run. I have to move. But, my legs do not listen. My arms are heavy at my sides.

I smell the musky cloth before it is placed over my mouth and between my teeth. Then strong arms grab and lift me from the ground. I choke out a breath when my stomach lands on the sharpness of his shoulder. I flail and scream, kicking the air with my feet and punching his back with my fists.

“She’s feisty, this one. Do I get to have some fun with her before we send her back?” They laugh as I sob. Once again, I am helpless. Useless. Weak. The man stops abruptly, grabs my legs and throws me off his shoulder. I grunt when I land on my back and bottom onto something hard, like a plank of wood. Then I feel rough, clammy hands under my tunic, grabbing my stomach, my breast. I scream as I try to push away his arms, but he does not budge. 

“Hey! Leave her be! Boss’ orders. Tie her up!” Another man shouts from a distance. The man lets me go and grunts. Desperately, I crawl and drag myself away from their voices until my back hits a wall, curling up on myself. I grab and pull at the gag in my mouth and the cloth on my eyes, but the knots are tight and the fabric chafes against my skin. 

“Don’t even think about it.” A man grabs my shoulder and shoves me into the wood, then he kicks me to my side and binds my hands to the small of my back. My wrists are wound tight. It feels like they will snap. 

I cry until there are no more tears. I scream until my voice gives. But, no one comes.

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Moments pass. I hear feet against sand and stone, murmurs of voices in the distance. But none bother me. My anxiety grows. What are they planning? I reach out my numb fingers and feel my surroundings. I kick my feet forward, they smack against something hard. The wood. I kick again and drag my body forward but my head hits another wall. I groan. I am enclosed in it. I feel wood to my left, right and drag my fingers against the material, examining the shape. Am I… in a box?

“You’ve gotten quieter. I think I like you better when you had some fire in ya’.” A man laughs, grabs my ankles and pulls me back with such a force that I fall back and hit my head. When he ties my ankles, I scream again and kick desperately. 

“There it is!” The man laughs and next, I feel a hand connects to my cheek. My head lolls to the side, a sharp sting spreads across my face. Is this how it will end for me? All those innocent people killed so I can escape, only to then be helplessly dragged back to Vasilis? No. I will not let it end this way. I start to mumble gibberish into the cloth, desperately hoping they will untie me and let me speak. But, the man does not. Instead, with rough, itchy rope, he binds my ankles together tightly. 

“This bitch is trying to say something,” His voice fades slightly as he walks away. “Should we let her speak?”

“Let the witch speak? Did you lose your marbles? Why the fuck would we ever listen to this bitch? Better to cut out her tongue before she puts a curse on us.” The woman says. I hear howls of laughter erupt. Next, I feel a hand on my forehead as it pushes me down against the smooth surface. A loud clatter above startles me. My heart speeds as the sound of hammers against nails echoes. My heart pounds. I mumble frantically as I realise they are nailing this box shut. I flip onto my back and kick the sides of the wood desperately, trying to break the box open. But, it is futile. The hammering does not cease.

I cannot breathe. I scream and scream but it is fruitless. My throat burns. Everything is dark. There is no air. I cannot even stretch. I can only curl up in a ball– like a withered fossil of the person I once was. All alone in the dark.

Vasilis is right. I am nothing without my title. Nothing without him. I thought myself strong for mustering up the courage to run away. But, in the end, I am no different from the shy, submissive girl back in that castle. I listen to the rhythmic beating of my heart, the sound of my shallow breaths. Forever it repeats. Until… when? Until my coffin is pried open to reveal the grand halls of my palace? Or the damp walls of the dungeons?

I hear nothing. I feel no movement. In the darkness I see Vasilis’ face, I hear his voice. I am nothing, he tells me. I have lost my way. Everything bleeds together, drowning me. I see Enka on her cot, gaunt and fragile. I watch myself walk away, I watch as my brother hacks off Yhana’s head– see the tip of her spine dripping dark blood as he holds her head in his hand. I smell the coppery tang of blood. I hear the sound of the Warden’s cries as I stab him, again and again. 

So much pain. So much blood. And for what? To fail those who helped me? To be dragged back to my brother? 

Enka, Yhana, Ermund… They are all gone. Who do I have left?

Dillon?

Dillon. What if he knows that I am here… What if he does not care? Why would he? He used me to free himself. He’s a mercenary. A selfish, traitorous brute. He killed my father. He murdered my father and I let him free. And now he has brought me to my death.

No, no, no. He fed me. He helped me escape… Didn’t he?

Stop! I scream at myself. I lean back and slam my head against the wood. The pain makes me dizzy so I pull back and do it once more. Warm blood trickles down my face. The cloths around my eyes and mouth catch it. I taste it. The pain distracts me from my thoughts. I do not stop. It hurts. I am crying, bawling into the fabric. Again, again and again, I slam my head into the wood. 

I whimper small prayers to my father, my mother, Gods and Angels. They don’t listen. What would father do? A vision of him is spawned in the darkness– he is younger, black long hair streaked with light grey, he is in the training grounds, parrying and striking against a boy of fourteen. My brother. When he sees me, he drops his sword and runs to hug me. Vasilis’ face is dark with malice. 

If I were half as strong as my father, I would fight. I am not. I am nothing. Father is dead. So I lay here in the dark and weep. I weep for my father. I weep for Yhana and Enka.

Lastly, I weep for myself– for the girl who thought she was strong, for the girl who dreamt of a life beyond porcelain shackles and painted masks– and count the seconds till my inevitable end.

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