Chapter Thirteen
I lost track of time.
I wasn't sure if I'd been in the arena for six, twelve, or, hell, even seventy-eight hours. I just know that I lost consciousness sometime and I welcomed it with open arms, especially since it was dark and cold and there were no dreams, no visions. It gave me a chance to finally rest.
There wasn't a single part on my body that wasn't in pain. My muscles were torn and tired, worked to the limit. My bones ached, my jaw ached, and my head felt like someone had used it for dodge-ball practice. My organs had been healed, only for the Khalian to beat me shitless all over again. Right when I started to feel healed and somewhat well again, they went right back to it until I couldn't move anymore. I hadn't felt this exhausted, this used and dirty and broken since my days in Styx.
Thankfully, they finally took a break to discuss their next attack on the Greeks, and they transported me back to the cold dark cell underground. I welcomed the darkness and the cold ground that worked wonders on my battered body. They refused to heal me the final time, so I lay on the floor not moving a muscle, my hair falling over my face as I stared at the bars of my cell.
Part of me wanted to drag myself to the straw mattress to rest, but I couldn't even move my fingers without wanting to snarl in pain, so I remained still as I stared at the bars, the dull rusted iron that somehow managed to keep me contained. Then again, they probably didn't need to waste time on the bars considering the collar was enough to keep me restrained.
I sighed and closed my eyes with the intention to rest for the next time the Atlanteans came after me, so I could come up with some kind of plan, but the air rippled for a moment and I opened my eyes to glare at the bars as Arikos appeared there with a tray that held a small bowl of buttered rice and a couple of strips of jerky.
Arikos didn't say a word as he knelt down on the floor outside the bars and slid the tray beneath the bars so it was a few inches in front of my face. I made no move to grab it as I stared at Arikos, who stared back at me. There was a huge bruise on the side of his face where Atlan had struck him, and I noticed a few new bruises scattered across his hips and thighs, a bite mark here and there.
We said nothing, the silence eerie and only interrupted by the occasional crackle of fire from the torches in the room, or someone whimpering from their cell somewhere above me. I closed my eyes again with the intention to rest, because I didn't feel like talking to Arikos right now, but I heard a strange noise that made me frown and open my eyes again to see Arikos in tears.
It was so strange to see them on his face, smearing the kohl around his eyes so his tears were black as they ran hot down his face, leaving darkened trails.
"Hannibal, I'm so sorry," Arikos managed, voice shaking, "I'm so, so sorry. I know no matter how many times I say it, it won't change anything. I just... I just wanted out. I wanted out so badly that I didn't care what happened to you in the end, or at least, that's what I tried to convince myself." I said nothing, just watched him hold his head down in shame.
No one ever apologized to me. And I wasn't sure if I was just too tired, or maybe I still felt a strange connection to Arikos, or maybe I just pitied him, but I couldn't find it in me to be angry with him. I just watched him cry silently before I breathed out a long sigh and propped myself up on my elbows, clenching my teeth against the pain of moving. My bones cracked and groaned at the movements and my muscles burned as if just the slight movement was an intense strain.
"Did you make this?" I asked, looking at the tray. Arikos sniffed and gave me a nod.
"I'm not supposed to be here," He admitted nervously, glancing toward the entrance, then around the room as if waiting for someone to burst in and punish him, then he looked at the tray, "It's technically my own lunch. I'm only allowed so much food. But you need it more than I do." I frowned.
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The Hybrid [malexmale]
Fanfiction[Book 14] Half-Atlantean, half-Greek, Hannibal is the abomination of both powerful pantheons. To make matters worse, ghosts from his past are being stirred up, revealing a truth Hannibal is less than excited to accept. Is it even the truth? What is...