Not just in the way a boy follows orders, but in the way someone who understands the gravity of a thing truly does.
Daisy nodded once. Then, without another word, Gilbert slung his satchel over his shoulder and headed for the door, his usual playful air back in place again.
And then Daisy was alone.
With a stranger.
Who was, quite possibly, dying in her pantry.
NOTHINGNESS
One second, fire raged beneath his skin. The next, his body was wracked with violent shivers.
But every time he opened his eyes—shewas there.
A distant dream, blurred at the edges. Or was she a memory?
Pain dragged him under before he could decide.
It pulsed behind his eyes, a relentless throbbing, squeezing his skull like a vise, tighter and tighter. Every attempt to focus, to grasp at consciousness, was met with a fresh wave of agony.
For days, weeks, months?—he was trapped between earth and hell—untethered, drifting, lost.
And yet… he didn’t care.
Had he given up on life? What life?
The question echoed empty in his mind.
He searched for anything to anchor himself—a name, a place, a purpose—but over and over again, he came up empty.
Nothing.
Just fragments of sensation—vague recollections of a cold, dark room, boots kicking him. Endless beatings.
“Swallow,” the mysterious woman ordered.
He didn’t have the strength to fight her. Didn’t have the strength to fight much of anything.
When panic threatened to drown him, he latched onto the comfort of her voice, the occasional warmth of her touch.
Warm. Soothing.
When the pain grew unbearable, he welcomed the darkness again. Over and over, sure it must be the end.
There was no sky, no shifting of light, nothing to mark the passage of day or night. Just the ebb and flow of pain, pulling him under, dragging him back to that dark place where time didn’t matter.
Until, finally, the thick fog in his mind shifted. Unconsciousness eased its grip, and instead of falling back under, he floated up.
Sounds sharpened.
A faint creak—wood shifting underfoot.
More awareness took hold.
The mattress beneath him was thin and lumpy, but it wasn’t stone. There was warmth in the air, not damp, not freezing.
His mind fought to find facts, anything tangible—but over and over again, it came up empty.
