Delta [Epsilon #2]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kyra

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I stopped counting the days. 

Seconds melted into minutes, and minutes into hours, but after that, time blurred into nothing. It wasn't like it mattered, not when every moment felt just as agonising as the last. It was as though someone had lodged a dagger in my heart, twisting it slowly, making sure I felt every little stab of guilt. An awful reminder that, while I sat safe in a court full of food and places to hide, they were suffering. Another minute of them being potentially tortured, all the while I sat there, numb.

I hated myself for it. Why couldn't I do anything? Why couldn't I leap out of my bed and go right after them?

The answer was obvious, of course, one that hurt me endlessly; I simply wasn't strong enough. I was still strung under Azriel's control, and no amount of self-loathing or hatred would change that. But hadn't I been through enough already? Hadn't I endured and survived some of the worst things imaginable?

So why... why wasn't I strong enough? 

I didn't have an answer. I couldn't think of one past the sound of Zion's screams, still ringing around my head as though I were next to him myself. His agonized eyes flashed before mine, a dagger twisting in his shoulder. A blade under his nails, lifting them off one by one. Animalistic yelps and screams filling my head -- my own or his, I didn't know anymore.  

In moments where I couldn't stand the silence, I would stand and roam. Darkness pooled in the nooks and crannies; every curtain drawn shut to block out the light. No one came and no one left, not even me. The only time when I'd known someone had come by was when a note had been slipped under my door, the incomprehensible scrawl offering something of training. I'd scrunched it up and thrown it away. 

Because what was the point? I was weak, wasn't I? The Delta had told me as much, hadn't he? Azriel's voice alone was enough to reduce me to dust, and even the faint scent of the South was enough to trigger a deep-seated fear in me. Azriel still had power over me, both in the form of the bond and my friends. If his plan was to kill me slowly, torture me, then he was doing a damn good job of it. 

I let my head fall into my hands. How could I ever hope to beat him? How could I ever hope so when I was so weak in every damn way possible?

When I looked up again, I spied a slither of light filtering through one of the curtains. I went to close it, to shut out the world again, but then I paused. The light reached like an arm across the floor, its tip grasping the scrunched note for the Delta. Like a sign, or a signal, I supposed. I shook my head and pulled the window shut. It was just a stupid little note and, knowing the Delta, he was probably coerced into writing it. That, or he felt pity, which was completely out of the question. 

With a frustrated sigh, I picked up the ball and headed for the ensuite, intending to flush it down the toilet. As I did, however, my eyes latched onto small scrawl placed on the corner. I paused, unfurling the paper. The message was written on the back, opposite the page that displayed the words: "Training at noon, whenever."

I flipped over the page again to the other words, and my eyes widened. 

"Oh, and I suggest you don't sit around feeling sorry for yourself. That never got anyone anywhere."