And is it strong enough to bringusout of this cage?
I have no choice but to hope for it. Because I officially have nothing left.
My twin sister is dead. It’s still slaughtering me days later. I’m sure it’ll hurt for the rest of my life, but right now, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around having no immediate family left.
On some level, I’ve felt for years that reuniting with Avianna was a lost cause. I knew it, but I still held out hope. I held onto the idea that someday I’d find her, and we would be back together again.
The harsh truth is that over the years, Avianna has become an abstract concept to me. I haven’t known her since we were three years old. That’s a long damn time… We’re not the same people we were when we were kids, not even close.
And yet, I know in my heart it wouldn’t have mattered. She’s my twin sister. We can go our entire lives without knowing each other, but that fact will never change.
Except that now she’s gone. And the flicker of hope in my chest has been snuffed out.
Even so, whether she’s gone or not, I can still feel her. I can’t explain it, but there’s always been this sensation inside of me, like a second beat to my heart… That’s Avianna.
I still feel it. It’s not gone…She’snot.
Maybe it’s because she’s been more dream than reality for so long. Maybe it’s because so long as I’m still breathing, she’ll live on through me.
“Or maybe it’s because of you,” I whisper to Avianna the sparrow.
Grinning, I watch her pecking at the pieces of croissant in my hand. She started coming inside my cell about a week ago, and in no time at all, she was landing on my fingers.
It’s kind of amazing. I’ve never had any pets, nor do I have any sort of training with birds. And the others don’t seem to care much about me. Although when Avianna started flying into my cell to get food, a few of them followed along.
Still, she’s the only one who comes to me more than the food. She’ll fly over and land on my shoulder while I’m reading, or sit on the nightstand and chirp at me in the morning.
It’s fucking weird, but also pretty cool. I can’t help feeling like a Disney princess. Snow White, Cinderella, or maybe Belle. Held captive and locked away. Alone all day and night, a slave to the evil King, or beast. No one but the animals to keep me company.
Making this comparison pleases me more than I want to admit.
Avianna the bird is literally my only friend. And as weird as it sounds, I like it. With her, I’m myself. Just like with Ivory… I don’t have to worry that they only like the version of me I’m portraying. The part I’m playing…
In this cage, I’m more myself than I’ve ever been before. Still, I can’t help wondering how much longer I’ll be stuck in here. And what life would look like outside of the cage.
“Do I even want to leave…?” I ask my sister sparrow. “I mean, what is there for me out there, anyway?”
She gives me a look, and my chin dips with my self-deprecating huff.
“I know, right? Hello, Stockholm Syndrome, nice to meet you.” I chuckle, observing her while she eats.
It reminds me of the symbol… The bird wrapped in barbed wire.
Ivory’s great aunt made that. That story he told me the other day hasn’t left my head—just like I haven’t taken the necklace of since. It was very damaging for my family, and it certainly scarred my memory of them…
Not that I ever even knew my abuelo. He died before Avia and I turned one. Still, something tells me my father knew about it. He knew about a lot of things that prove him not to have been the best guy.
And yet, here I am, harboring all of these crazy feelings for someone who’s just as bad.
The Ivory is no hero. He was right the other day; his putting an end to the child trafficking business wasn’t done expressly out of the kindness of his heart. He’s just an egotist, and his reputation is everything to him.
Unfortunately, I can’t help that part of me respects how unapologetic he is. I wish I wasn’t attracted to so many things about him, the negativesandthe positives, but I can’t help it. I find it sexy the way he doesn’t give a single fuck how diabolical, maniacal, and downright malicious he is. It makes his sweet, squishy moments even more endearing.
And the fact that he only shows his soft underbelly tome…?
Ugh, swoon.
“Maybe I am a fuckin THOT,” I sigh. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking… He’s impossible to read.”
