Breaking purity: The wolf // Michael Langdon

Interrogation II

Day 17 morning

You wake up and extend your hand to touch the left side of the pillow but the movement gets you to blink sadly, of course he is not there. Despite that, you are still scratching the sheet, as if you could put him on bed next to you like that, desperate to feel his warm body protecting you from the coldness of this place since they didn't even give you a blanket. You remember when you were like that, all shaking with your nightgown but proudly choosing to sleep on the floor.

-I was such a fool – you whisper and tears appear quick – Now all I want to do is feel your breathing, snuggle in your arms and hear you all bossy telling me to rest... - you start gasping as your cry gets stuck in your throat – But it's over and I feel like a fool cause I can't do anything but staying here – You hear the door open but it closes fast and you give a disinterested look. Someone has left a plate with another sandwich and a bottle on the floor, maybe it was the old lady but you don't really care, too lost in your thoughts. Your fingers start scratching the O-ring, there's no one to tell you to stop your anxiety behaviors now so you let your teared heart find its calming way with that action, humming a lullaby, the same one you sang long before, during your first days with him.

Half an hour passes by and the door opens again. The old lady goes to the candles to light another cigarette and looks at you from the table.

-So, you're planning on starving yourself now.

-Who cares? – you say sobbing into the pillow.

-It might not be a smart decision.

-Really?

-They want you alive to solve this mystery and they're capable of shoving the food down your throat, don't you doubt about it.

-Well, fuck all of this – you let out not out of braveness but surrender. There's a moment of silence as you sense the smoke in the room.

-Where were you all this time before this? With him? Cause I can't imagine in what kind of troubles you used get if you answered him with this shitty cut outs.

It makes you smile at the memories and then you decide to turn your head to finally look at her.

-In pretty much all of them – you say and she smiles too.

-Get up, kid, and eat. It's not gonna bite you if you bite it first – She mocks.

You let a long breath out and sit down. You scrub your eyes, despondent, and go down the bed ladder to take the plate and sit on the chair. She is a reflection of a tough but gentle grandma, although she is still a Satanist and you can't tell her the whole truth about yourself.

– Nice collar you've got there – she says and you instinctively bring your hand to your O-ring – He likes you, doesn't he?

-Maybe – you are stunned that she realized about that.

-And you do too. Not like us though; that sparkle in your pupils, it's been a long time since I last saw it in someone.

-He is a... fascinating specimen.

She starts to laugh loud but she notices that you don't understand why.

-Well, of course he is, dear. He is the Son of Satan, what did you expect?

-I know – you say cut. I don't care. – But he... Don't mind me – you finish the sandwich and take the bottle to drink.

-How long has it been since you know him?

-A few weeks, since the Outpost thing.

-Which one was your number?

-Three.