after they met her

fourtynine

i v a n a

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the cold metal pressing against my skin. I must have fallen asleep curled up on the floor.

The ache in my body made it hard to sit up, but I forced myself to.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hall, I saw him—sitting casually in a chair, leaning back as if this were just another morning for him. Glenn was there too, already awake, sitting stiffly in his cell, staring at nothing.

"Good morning," the man said with a smile. His voice was light, casual, like this was just some ordinary day and not another step in the hell we were both trapped in. His mood had shifted from the last time, and I could feel the tension leave his voice. "I thought about what happened yesterday," he continued with a chuckle. "I think I might've overreacted." He shrugged, like he was apologizing for a minor inconvenience. "I forgot that you were only with them for half a year. Of course, they didn't tell you everything yet."

Glenn's eyes briefly met mine.

There was no recognition in his gaze, no spark of familiarity. I wondered if he knew.

If he had any idea that we were bound by blood, by the same shattered past. But the man wasn't done with his game.

"Let me introduce you to your half-sister, Glenn," he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he studied Glenn's face, waiting, hoping for some kind of reaction. But there was nothing. Glenn didn't even blink, didn't even flinch. He was a stone, completely closed off.

The man pouted like a child, turning to me with mock disappointment. "How cold," he said, his lips forming a dramatic frown. "Don't be sad, Iva." I flinched at the nickname, the way it felt too familiar, too wrong coming from him.

He smirked when he saw my reaction. "He doesn't mean it," he added, as if trying to reassure me. "Boy's just very bad with emotions, aren't you, Boy?" His tone was patronizing, like he was speaking to a toddler. Glenn remained silent.

With a stretch, the man stood up, towering over both of us. "For today, I have something special planned for you," he said, looking directly at me now, his voice laced with some sinister promise.

I stared at him, my heart hammering in my chest. Special? What could he possibly mean by that?

"You know, my little girl's been begging me for someone to play with," he continued, his tone shifting to something almost casual, but the malice was still there, underneath. "And right now, you're the only female I can let into the house." He gave me a mock bow, his grin widening. "So congratulations. You're allowed out of your cell for one whole hour per day."

There was a sudden shift in his expression—his smile disappeared, and his eyes hardened. "But don't get too cocky," he added, his voice dropping dangerously low. "You'll be watched. And if you try something..." He reached down, yanked open the door to my cell, and before I could react, his hand was on the collar of my shirt. He lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing, his face inches from mine. "I will murder this one over there. Do you hear me?"

I nodded quickly, too terrified to speak. His grip tightened for a moment before he let me go, and I crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

He clapped his hands together, the cheerful demeanor returning as quickly as it had disappeared. "Great!" he exclaimed, his voice light again. "So, go wash up and then... play house or some shit. Man, you stink."

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged to a small bathroom, rough hands shoving me inside.

I peeled off my dirty clothes, my hands shaking as I stepped into the cold shower. The water wasn't hot, but it was clean, and for a moment, I just let it wash over me, trying to scrub away the grime and the fear that clung to me.