𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖒 . Kaz Brekker

7: The Worth of it all

The second dose

Shari had never felt so weak; her chest ached, her hands shook, her throat itched. And yet, and yet, she kept scratching against the wooden door that kept her locked in. Her fingers were worn down to the nail beds, the skin on her knees rubbed away painfully against the floors, yet she kept scratching and banging against the door.

She knew, she was just certain, that all she needed was more parem. Just a little more and she would be fine, she'd make more gold for her father, and he would let her out. He'd allow her leave the dark, empty room, where nobody could see his youngest daughter in such a sorry state. Everything would fall back into place with a little more parem.

Just a little more.

So why wouldn't he give it to her!

She slammed her hands against door in a short fit of rage, scowling and crying as the wooden door shook on its hinges. She slammed against it once more, and then curled her fingers as she attempted to soften the metal hinges and break loose. Sweat gathered on her forehead, as she called for her ability.

It had gotten so hard to use it after the effects of the first dose of parem had worn off. From unfathomable power to just trickles of it. Shari hated the difficulty in using her ability. But still, she pushed through it, blinking away the salty liquid that had fallen to her lash line. She could feel the metal now, could feel its molecular form, after so much work, and she worked to soften it. She worked to weaken the hinges on the door quickly, so she could run to her father to explain to him that she just needed a little more parem.

She groaned and pushed her thumb against one of the hinges, but a grin could be seen forming on her face at how the metal bent around the imprint of her finger. She was doing it! Even if she could only do the bottom hinge, it would be enough. She would be able to tilt the door a bit if it had only a single hinge. She pushed harder, with her thumb and with her ability, and could see the difference. 

Soon enough, she managed to melt off the lower hinge and hastily pushed at the door. It budged just a little bit, and Shari stared at the door in horror. She pushed harder against it, not understanding why it wasn't opening. Then she remembered that it was locked, and it wasn't the hinge she was meant to have focused on. She cursed at herself, realising she should have been working to melt the metal lock and not the hinge! 

She yelled out as she gripped her hair and tugged harshly, angry at herself to wasting her energy and being so stupid! How could she be so dumb? It was the lack of parem in her veins. That had to be it. She just needed more. Just a little more.

So she got back to pounding on the door and trying to scream out her father's name, praying that he's hearing her, and realizing that all she needed was more parem. Not a lack of it, not-

She paused and her breath hitched as she heard footsteps approaching. Moments later, the lock on the door was turned and she looked up with wide, happy eyes at the sight of her father standing in the doorway, a heavy brown bag in his hands.

He stared down at his daughter on the ground, her eyes red and wide, skin pale and unhealthy and her cheekbones beginning to look sharper than what was deemed beautiful. He scowled at the sight of her, at how pitiful she looked on the ground in tattered clothes and matted hair, and that sickening happy look in her eyes, like some starving abandoned dog begging for a bone. He kicked her away with his foot against her arm, turning his face away as her body skidded across the cement floor.

He stepped back out and began to lug the wheelbarrow full of silver into the room. He'd had his servants gather them into a single wheelbarrow so he could personally carry it down without needing help. He couldn't allow anyone see his daughter in such a state. How would it look? A councilman's daughter resembling one of those pitiful grisha slaves on parem?

And how did she manage to get her hands on the drug in the first place? Word would definitely get out that he was the one that had given it to her. Too many questions would arrive from that; questions he couldn't deal with.

So he wheeled the silver in and shut the door behind him, not even noticing the awkward movements it made. He crouched down to look at his daughter, eyes filled with disgust as he studied her face. 

She was crying now, begging her father that she needed more. She cried to him that she was fine and well, and she just needed a little more to get herself together. After all, he'd forced the first dose on her. He had to deal with it, he had to take care of her. By giving her more.

He held up the brown bag tightly gripped in his hand in front of her, watching as her whole attention latched on to the powder filled bag. Her lips stretched wide in a grin, exposing her white teeth that were just starting to yellow in colour, eyes wide with glee and nostrils flared in excitement. She looked horrible, like a junkie, an addict to the drug, and in that moment, Frederich Havemeyer couldn't believe how much he despised the sight of his daughter.

"Pathetic." He spat at her, harshly reaching forward to grip her face, his fingers digging in to her cheeks painfully. 

It didn't seem to bother her. She was ready to take anything as long as he offered her more parem.

And that he did.

He poured the powder on to the ground and watched as his daughter practically crawled to it, moaning in ecstasy as she practically inhaled it from the ground. His accountant had told him that the powdered drug was eaten, swallowed, not sniffed. Frederich didn't understand why Shari sniffed it. Probably by mistake the first time, when he'd pushed her head to the drug on the table.

Now she seemed to inhale and eat it off the ground at the same time. She looked deranged, like a dying animal. He hated watching it, he hated that he was the one that had turned her into such, and decided that he had to find another way. He couldn't keep using his daughter as a way to minimize his losses whenever he was robbed. He'd have to find a way to stop the gang from stealing from him.

But that was later. In that moment, he could only watch as Shari rose on her knees, letting out a loud satisfied moan at the feeling of parem in her veins. She stretched her arms wide, and just like before, every inch of the room became gold. Frederich stood to the side as he watched the transfiguration, and thought quietly to himself if all the gold was worth seeing his daughter in such a state.