Nine days.
I'd been here for nine days.
I hadn't seen daylight, but the scheduled times my food tray was brought told me so.
Nine days in which I'd been kept so weak and vulnerable to whatever torture my captors might decide to present.
They hadn't yet, and something about that scared me.
Logan hadn't been back. Maybe he'd refused to look at me anymore.
Erik was constantly in my thoughts, filling me sick with worry. Was he alright? Were they feeding him? Please God don't tell me they've hurt him.
My stomach flipped. What if they'd hurt him?
No, no. I couldn't afford to think like that. I'm sure he's just like me, held up somewhere in this place.
The more I had time to think about it, the more I realised where we were. The dark, moody grey walls, the steep narrow staircases, the pillars at the top of them and the limit of natural light. Underground.
Even though I hadn't been staying here for too long, I recognised the great detail.
It was the Institution.
They were keeping us in our own home.
Were the others here as well? Lucy? Kade? Adrian? I wanted to cry out to them, and hope for an answer that told me they were okay. But I couldn't. My yelling would do nothing; the walls in here had to be ridiculously thick, possibly soundproof I imagined.
I had to talk to them, I had to see Erik.
Erik...
Something Logan had said haunted me. Erik had been, in fact, unrestrained when I'd attacked Logan, I couldn't try to deny what I saw. But that didn't mean anything, did it? Especially not that Erik was running this show. There was no way. This is just what Logan wants me to think. He knew this would happen. He knew my being here isolated would leave me alone with the thoughts that constantly consumed me.
And I hated it. What if's never stopped asking me their silly questions, always keeping my brain active with new details to stress over.
Body weak, mind wide open. What could they want to do to keep me in that condition? Lots, I suppose. These sleepless nights had prepared me for a lot of possibilities, but none for what would happen next.
Six clicks. Then Jeb.
How I hated his face.
"Morning Princess." He ringed mockingly with a dirty grin.
I couldn't be bothered to reply, I only groaned at his presence, he wasn't worth anything else. I sat with my shoulder against the far wall, breathing heavily. It was cold down here, I'd had asthma as a child but it hadn't seemed to have bother me until this moment. The Nephilim part of me I assumed had healed me before. So where was it now? I guessed that if my whole body was weakened, any power I possessed did the same too, including the ability to heal. I was surprised at this, the high and mighty Nephilim broken down by isolation and lack of energy. A few weeks ago, I'd been brought to the attention that I was the daughter of a highly powerful angel and that I'm training to be a first form defence mechanism against some demons. I'd been told about how "special" we Nephil were, with abilities matching sci fi imaginations.
And I couldn't do shit.
I was told I'd be more powerful than the others, the fate of the existence of angels in my hands.
The greatest lie ever told.
And for what? Angels that are supposed to "protect" a human race and still let thousands of people die every day? What power did they have? What the hell were they doing with it?
YOU ARE READING
Tightrope; A New Romance
Fantasía'Adrian placed his hands against the wall on either side of my head, his alluring scent intoxicating me. I couldn't believe it. He had everything a guy could ever want; he had his freedom. But here he was, right in front of me, begging me to love h...
