“Look at me.”
Her head comes up. Her eyes are wet, red-rimmed, pupils blown wide.
“You asked to go outside. You wanted it.”
She swallows, but doesn’t say anything.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing. They didn’t … No one touched me. They just—” Her throat works as she swallows.
“They just what?”
“Looked at me. All of them. Every single one.” The words spill out fast, tumbling over each other. “The entire time I was walking through the camp, they watched me. Their eyes followed me everywhere. And they wanted?—”
Her breath is getting faster, edging toward hyperventilation.
“They wanted what?”
“They wanted to hurt me. I could see it in their faces. The way they tracked me. One of them smiled and it was …” A shudder runs through her. “I’m sure she was thinking about how she’d kill me, planning it in her head. And I couldn’t do anything except keep walking.”
“She probably was. What did Vel do?”
“She … Every time someone got close, she’d pull me back just before they reached me. But she made sure I saw them coming.” Her laugh sounds like breaking glass. “She wanted me to be scared. She enjoyed it.”
“Yes, I imagine she did.”
She looks up at me then, her face wet with tears. “You knew. You knew what it would be like.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
I lean back in my chair, and look at her. The shaking hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s getting worse now that the immediate threat has passed, her body finally allowed to react to what it’s been holding at bay.
“How did it feel?”
She stares at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. She doesn’t wipe them away.
“Answer me. How did it feel to walk through the camp and have them look at you like that?”
“Like I was walking to my death.” Her voice breaks. “Like any second one of them was going to … and Vel wouldn’t stop them. Iknewshe wouldn’t, because she wanted it too. I can see it every time she looks at me.”
“Go on.”
“I couldn’t breathe.” She presses the back of her hand to her mouth. “My heart was pounding, and all I could think about was putting one foot in front of the other, and pray that none of them would …”
Her fear is a living thing now, crawling through the connection.
“And the worst part—” Her voice drops to almost nothing. “The worst part is knowing it isn’t going to end. When I come back here, I’m still going to be trapped, and surrounded by people who want me dead. I’ll still be?—”
“Prey?”
“Yes. Prey.” She lifts her chin and meets my eyes. “You wanted me to be afraid. You wanted me terrified and shaking and sick. You wanted me to know how powerless I am here. How much I depend on you to stay alive.”
“Yes.”
A sob escapes her. “Why?”
