One.
Two.
Three—“Fuck!” I shout in one long, drawn-out growl, falling back onto my knees the second I put any pressure on my leg. The sweat is pouring down my face now, but after a few more failedattempts, I take my first successful step toward the door on the right. Each step in the endless hallway feels like a mile-long hike. “We’re almost there.” It sounds like a lie, but eventually, the door is right before me.
Fighting the tingles in my fingers, I turn the knob and stumble into the bare bedroom. The space is pretty small, so luckily, when I fall, we land directly on the bed. Clara and I moan in agony, but when I roll off her and lie by her side, at least we have something somewhat comforting beneath us.
Darkness dances around the edges of my vision, not threatening but warning me I’m about to pass out. Before I do, though, I turn away, shame coiling around my heart for what I’ve done.
The room smells of piss and blood when I crack open my eyes, but I’m shrouded in darkness with no sense of time. The last thing I remember is facing away from Clara, but now I lie directly on my back, agony keeping me motionless.
Without turning my neck, I eye the space beside me, sensing its emptiness before confirming. Opening my mouth, I intend to call out Clara’s name, but the only sound that emerges is a guttural, choppy croak, full of dry air and dust.
They’ve come back for her, is the first thought that’s entered my mind. They’ve come back for her and left me here to rot in my own piss and shit, covered in the blood and cum they left on me.
I’m going to die.
The air is thick with a sense of finality, as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for something that may nevercome. The light is nonexistent, but still, there are long shadows that seem to stretch over the entirety of the room, amplifying the severity of my end. Everything about this moment feels heavy, cold, and alien, as if time itself has come to a standstill.
With the pain surrounding my body and the shit I’ve done and am forced to live with, dying doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe it’s a mercy that they left me in here. Perhaps it’s a gift. I smile, somewhat glad that my life will be over.
And then the door opens.
“Cade?”
Clara’s voice, though strained, is a jolt back into reality. Looking much more alive than I last remember, she sits beside me on the bed; her ruined dress hanging off her battered body. The swelling around her face has worsened, with wounds appearing black on her porcelain skin, but her eyes are open and somehow shining like I always remembered. “Cade?”
Closing my eyes, I turn away from her. Tears bead behind my eyelids and break free from the corners when I whisper, “I am so sorry, Clara.” My apology will never make up for what I did to her. There are scars inside her now because I put them there.Idid! She is my best friend, and I fucking hurt her. “I’m so sorry…”
I wouldn’t be surprised if she added to my beating, if she dug her nails into my eyes and ripped them from my skull the same way I ripped pieces of her away. I hope she does. I deserve worse. Instead, I feel her hand press against mine, fingers curling inside my palm.
“They would’ve killed you, Cade.”
I know.“They should have.”
Her fist flies into my shoulder, the broken one.
“Fuck!”
“You fucking dick! Don’t say that! Don’teversay that!”
“Look what I did!” I roar with a splitting voice, tears breaking up my words. “Look what I did to you!”
“Do you think you’re the first guy they’ve had me fuck?” she asks, disgust lacing her tone. “You’re not! You’re not even close! I thought when they dragged me out of my cell that they were going to stick me with another fat, old, greasy fucker, but no! It was you! Out of everyone,” she pauses, catching her breath, “I’m so fucking glad it was you, Cade.”
Blinking away the tears welling in her eyes, Clara takes a deep inhale. “Okay. Come on. We gotta get you cleaned. You’re starting to smell like a dead person.”
“I feel like a dead person,” I groan as I take her helpful hand to get into a sitting position. When I’m up and slowly getting to my feet, Clara gently places her hand on my lower back for stability. “If only we were so lucky.”
We take a leisurely, almost painfully slow pace to the bathroom, where Clara has already taken the initiative to fill the bathtub halfway. “Do you need help?” She asks when we stand before it, watching my steadiness and strength.
“I think I’m okay. Thanks.” I know it’s a lie. Besides the shattered bones in my body, I can feel my muscles threatening to crumble, but I need a moment to myself where I don’t have to look at the broken pieces between us.
“Okay,” she says softly, “I’m going to see if I can find your clothes.”
Before she walks out the door, I call out after her, hysteria almost in my tone. “Can you see if my knife is out there?”Did they take it?“I think I dropped it somewhere near the chair.”
“Yeah. I’ll see if it’s out there.”
