Inhale…
Exhale…
Images from my past try to transport me to a different time, another world. Something to get me through the apparent torture session. Flashes of my dad play in my head, to my surprise, and—against my will—my mother’s face pops in uninvited. Part of me wonders if she knew. She did always say something was wrong with me. More wrong than maybe she thought. It pains me to know I’ll never get my revenge. The bitch died before I ever got the chance, leaving me nothing except the desire to haunt her with my ghost.
Maybe this is her doing that to me.
I wonder how long this will take to heal. Now that my magic is gone, it’s not like I can heal myself. Just as the questions drift through my thoughts, my mouth is being pried open, and I’m choking on whatever liquid is being poured in.
Pain spreads over my chest as I choke, nearly aspirating as it goes down the wrong pipe.
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just something to help the healing process along.” The only answer I give her is sputtering.
Finally getting my breathing under control, I gasp in the air. My wounds are beginning to stitch back together but not fully. The vindictive bitch probably wants them to scar so I have a piece of her everywhere I go.
The assault continues, and I block out as much as I can. She seems content with her work after a while. I have no idea what kind of destruction she’s placed on my flesh, but I’m grateful I don’t have a mirror waiting for me back in the cell.
At some point, I blacked out from the pain. A vague memory resurfaces of being carried from the room back to my cage. I had no energy left to open my eyes or take in my surroundings. Instead, I surrendered to the blackness that called to me, my body welcoming the cold concrete I’ve become accustomed to. My body curls into a ball, and that’s the last thing I remember before I’m being whisked off into another world.
I don’t think there’s ever been a time I have felt so lonely. The girl in the other cage has been giving me the show of throwing away the water that I so desperately crave. We play the same game of charades, and I still have no idea what she’s trying to tell me.
But I don’t care anymore. I can’t care. There isn’t anything I can do here. I’m everything I told myself I wouldn’t be again. I’m weak and fragile, a shell of the girl I worked so hard to become. And I’ve fallen victim to the skin of the person I never wanted to identify as again.
When the guards stumble in next, the girl gives me a sideways glance as she empties the contents of her cup in her mouth.
If I don’t get water for one day, it won’t kill me. But what if it does? It doesn’t matter anyway.
Copying her, I let the water sit inside my cheeks and wait for them to leave. Once the door is closed, she points at me then my bucket before demonstrating the act herself.
The sacred water pours from my mouth into my shit bucket. There’s a sense of loss as I stare at it, and regret starts to set in.
“Are you happy?” I ask her. She nods, and I’m curious what the reasoning is. How long has she been doing this? I’ve never paid attention, always just assuming she was as desperate as I was.
She waves her hand to catch my attention, keeping her back toward the door. Giving me a sideways look, her hand hovers over the bucket, twisting and turning until the water in the bucket slowly starts to rise.
It’s the most beautiful and foul thing I’ve ever seen. Not wanting to draw any attention, the water drops back down after barely reaching the rim, and neither of our eyes moves from one another.
I mouth the word, “How?” She starts making gestures with her hands again, but this time, I really try to pay attention. Gathering what I can, I have her repeat the message one moretime.
Holy shit.
The lightbulb finally goes off in my head, and I could literally kiss her right now.
The water.
Whatever they’re using to repress our magic—it’s in the water. The tears fall without permission. It starts out slow, a drop here and there. Then a river. Then a fucking waterfall.
I’m getting out of here.We’regetting out of here.
FOUR
Subject 763
“Use any force necessary,” is what I was told before I was allowed to see her. However, when I walked in and my eyes locked on her withering form on the ground, I lost it. I don’t know what came over me, but I had an urge to protect her, so I snapped. I wanted to unleash all my power on every motherfucker in that room.
I don’t know why, but as fast as the word left my mouth it was like I was doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Something pulled me back to reality, and I made quick work of hauling her over my shoulder. The feeling was strange—her against me. There was something not quite right, like my body was trying to tell me something that my mind couldn’t comprehend.
My skin itches with a feeling I’m not used to. I dropped her in that chair as if she was burning me, uncaring of how hard she landed.
