broken thieves

twenty

Enoch

I've barely been within these four walls for more than a few days, but I've memorised each and every detail.

There's a scratch over there, a dent by the door. The floor is wood. The door is metal. There aren't any windows and occasionally the fluorescent light-bulb above my head will flicker out, plaguing the small room in darkness.

Those are the worst moments. As soon as my sense of sight is ripped away, my brain plays the cruellest tricks on me. I hear sounds of creatures lurking in my room, see the shadows of people in red stalking past my door.

I think that this is the worst room I've been in, but how can I be so sure when I've been in so many?

I hold the thin pillow closer to my chest-- the one object I'm allowed in the room-- to try and quell the shivering that racks through my body. It's so cold in here, the wood beneath me so warmer than ice. I don't remember what it feels like to be warm.

I flinch as I roll over onto my side, the stripes scarred into the flesh of my back twinging with every movement I make. My whole skull throbs with the wound on my cheekbone. My whole body aches. I don't remember what the last thing I ate was, but whatever it was, it wasn't a lot.

They're being smart about it. They don't feed me until I'm so weak I can't stand, before they give me just the right amount of food to keep me going.

Well, I'm going to have to die eventually.

The one thing keeping me going, the one thing that makes me force that food down my throat, is the knowledge that my thieves will come for me. It's so easy to give up hope while you're waiting for death to greet you in one way or another, but I haven't lost it. Not yet.

They're coming. They have to be.

I tense as I hear voices echoing down the corridor. Two men, laughing with each other. It's usually a pair of cadets keeping watch on the Drakan's many prisoners, but there's always a chance it's one of the Drakan thieves themselves.

Storm is brutal. So is Victoria. Marco was pretty injured after the masquerade ball, but I've been hearing word of him making a fast recovery. I don't usually see Christian or Amber, but when I do, they pretend as if I don't exist. I thought Sara was the most gentle of them, but she was the one who sliced a blade through my cheekbone. Delilah has interrogated me once or twice, asking me question after question about Aurora until I can barely keep my head up. Then there's Simon, who terrifies me with one look, especially after cracking a whip against my back until I fell unconscious.

But the one Drakan thief who tortures me purely by his presence is Colwyn. My older brother.

Whenever I see him, I feel my entire body turn to ice. He hasn't done anything to me yet, but sometimes he stares at me. He watches me being beaten, watches his own brother yell and plead for mercy, and that can be worse than anything that Simon or Victoria has done to me.

The two voices pass my cell, the shadows of their feet travelling across the floor. I let out shaky breath. They're not here for me. Not now.

I turn onto my back, hoping that the frozen wood can soothe the sting of my back for just a few moments. The exhaustion is settling in. I can feel it creeping through my nerves, sliding over my bones. I'll be falling asleep soon and, like always, I'll be awoken in a few hours for only God knows what.

I really want to stay awake. These moments alone are so precious. I'm not being hurt until my body feels like it'll break in half, I'm not being questioned until my brain is fried, I'm not being humiliated or brainwashed until I forget my own name.