𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙎 | mattheo riddle

79 | the cold

Author's POV

Layla remains in her cell, in the darkness, almost no hope left. She shivers in the coldness, the lack of comfort, that lack of human touch.

His touch.

That she so desperately needs. All that was keeping her from collapsing completely, was memories - flashes of happiness in her mind... time with the boys and Kamala at base, running around the training hall, messing about... time with Luna, Pansy and Astoria, doing each other's nails and having a spa day in their dorm... time with Mattheo. Just to be in his presence, just to see his smile everyday, his eyes, is what kept her going.

But she doesn't have that anymore. She's in shackles, and she doesn't know whether she's going to get out, whether this is her life now. Rotting away in this cell.

Suddenly, she hears metal clanging, and she shoots right up, alert as she uses her other senses to predict what it could be.

Footsteps. Approaching her.

She stands right up and listens as she hears keys jangling, before someone enters the cell, grabbing onto her wrist and taking her out into the dark hallways.

Everything is still so dark.

This is the first time in days she's been taken out of her cell - ever since she got there. There's now two guards, gripping onto her arms, dragging her in her white dress that she hasn't changed out of.

She can't see what she looks like right now, and gladly so. Not wanting to see the state of herself and the dress.

"You have five minutes to take a shower. There's a pair of clothes inside. Put them on. Five minutes, no longer." One of the guards says, and by the sound of his husky voice, she predicts he's in his thirties, perhaps.

Layla stops, pauses as she turns to face the guards, lifting up her wrists to show the shackles the cage her forearms.

The other guard begins to chuckle.

"As if we're taking them off." He snorts. "Deal with it, witch."

Layla stumbles her way towards the door before her, noticing cracks of light shining through. Her eyes widen and she swings the door open, the bulbs so bright that her eyes sting at the sudden shine of light.

The first hint of light she's seen in days. She looks around the room, finding everything is white: the walls, the floors, the tiles, the shower itself - all white. It's hypnotising.

I have five minutes.

She remembers that she's limited on time, not surprised that these wretched people aren't giving her the luxury of taking her time.

She quickly strips the dress off of her, and looks down at it, noticing how mucky it has become. She looks around. No mirrors.

She chucks the dress to the side and hops into the shower, turning it on.

Cold water.

Of course.

The feeling of liquid against her skin she hasn't felt in days is so refreshing, she wishes she could stand there for ages, letting the water wash the feelings away. But she can't. She has to hurry.

She quickly flips her hair down, letting the water run through it, and finds a bar of soap on the floor. The only soap they provide. She makes use of it, foaming bubbles in her hands and then scrubbing her hair clean, before gliding the bar of soap along her body, scrubbing her skin clean.

Three minutes pass.

She quickly rinses of her hair and body with the ice cold water, finding some clothes and a towel folded up on a white chair in the corner of the room. She quickly dries herself off with the towel, and slips into the white clothes they gave her - the material thin and uncomfortable.

I should've just stayed in my dress. It was a lot more comfortable than these rags.

She takes a deep breath, her hair still damp, as puts on the white pumps they gave her. No socks of course. They aren't that considerate.

She takes a deep breath, before heading outside, feeling slightly more refreshed but still cold to the core. Especially after that freezing shower.

I wouldn't be surprised if I died of hypothermia.

As soon as she opens the door, she's surprised to see that the guards are not standing right outside. They're a few feet away. The lights are on. And... they're-

They're talking to Spector.

Layla's eyes widen, her fists clenching and her eyes darkening, as her vision meets Henry at the end of the corridor, whispering away to the guards. She takes a couple of steps forward and they realise that she's there.

His face drops when he sees her, as he turns to face her direction, and Layla's heart skips a beat, when she notices his face is bruised - he has a black eye, and a tissue is held up against his nose to stop it from bleeding.

"Look who it is." He says, no expression in his tone whatsoever.

Layla tilts her head, examining the bruises on his face and she looks down and chuckles to herself, and he lunges forward in a split second, gripping onto her neck aggressively.

"Laugh again, I dare you, wretch." He spits in her face.

"Wow. Mattheo really left a mark." She almost laughs once more, covering her mouth to stop herself, and he looks down at her with a glare, pushing her away from him as he turns right around.

"Guards. Take that bitch back to her cell." He says, and he clicks his fingers, all the light that was once there, disappearing within seconds, when the two guards approach Layla in the darkness and grab her by her arms.

She kicks and screams and tries to make her escape, but it's no use. With her powers gone, the shackles around her wrists, and with how weak she's been due to the lack of food and water, it's no use. They simply chuck her back into the cell, their keys jangling as they slam the door shut.

She drops to the floor, and she sighs, a small smile managing to form on her face.

Mattheo. He's coming for me.