Her legs were swollen from restricted circulation. Purple bruises spread beneath the skin. The cords had carved deep furrows around her bones like permanent marks of captivity.
I sliced through the first restraint.
Nothing.
The second.
Nothing.
The third finally snapped with a dull twang that echoed in the room.
I caught her leg before it could fall too harshly.
The moment the final rope was severed, her body collapsed forward.
The chair had been the only thing keeping her upright.
She fell face-first onto the filthy concrete floor with a soft, sickening thud.
Her limbs sprawled at unnatural angles — muscles too weak to react, nerves shocked from prolonged restraint.
“Elena...”
Her name broke out of my throat in a whisper as I scrambled to her side.
I dropped to my knees and rolled her over gently — careful, terrified of causing more damage.
Her head lolled lifelessly to the side. Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose in shallow, uneven breaths that looked painful — like each inhale had to be fought for.
Unconscious.
Or worse.
“Oh no...” The words tore out of me, cracked and unstable. “No, no — I can’t find you after all these years just to watch you die here.”
My hands hovered over her face as if touching her might break whatever fragile thread was keeping her alive.
“You’re the only real family I have left,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Please...”
My throat closed.
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I carefully slid one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, lifting her into my arms.
She was alarmingly light.
Too light.
Her bones pressed sharply against my grip — skin thin, fragile, marked by abuse and starvation. She smelled of old blood, sweat, and untreated wounds that had festered too long.
The scent hit me like a physical blow.
I pulled her closer to my chest and adjusted her weight, cradling her like she was something sacred that I had just barely managed to reclaim.
I rocked slightly.
Tears fell freely now — splashing onto her matted hair.
