Her shitty life story isn’t one I’m interested in. I’ve worked out for myself there’s no one fucking here, so it’s useless information she’ll bend to make me sympathize with her.
“Off the coast of England,” she says, passing me a sandwich and bottle of water before she wets another towel.
I just need to get to England. I’ll swim across the water, find an embassy to get home. They’ll be able to help me get away from whatever the fuck this place is. I’ll need my strength, so I check the sandwich for any poison then alternate my bites with sips of water.
“Everyone left with a pact to never speak of this place again because they weren’t able to ignore what Helene was doing anymore,” Anna says, cleaning me. “They’d spent years accepting that their people may disappear, telling themselves it was an offering to the island for every amenity they could wish for under the Kobalts.”
She looks up, eyes red-rimmed, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. “They allowed her the time to practice, to grow and perfect her ways. When they left, she only became more powerful as she grew her family after denying us the ability to fend for ourselves because nothing could grow here.”
She’s talking as if this all happened centuries ago, the lore passed down from generations, becoming a myth. So, I ask, “I thought you said you were born here?”
“My father was a farmer.”
“You said nothing grows here.” I swear to fuck she’s annoying.
“It doesn’t. He was in charge of rearing their meals, not growing them.”
My face pinches in disgust as I slowly lean away from her, whispering, “Are you acannibal?”
I’m going to be sick. She used to make my food when I was a kid. She could’ve been putting human flesh in it. But she shakesher head with a small smile. “No, the staff don’t eat the same meals as the masters, remember?”
“I’m sorry, I always hated that bullshit.”
The way my parents treated her is disgusting and I hated it when I was a child. I hate it even more now, even if she is a traitorous bitch.
“I remember, Delilah.” She pats my hand. “You would always cut your food in half to share with me.”
“Why did you hurt me then?”
“You see the hurt you’ve received, but you don’t see the pain I’ve saved you from.”
Anna slowly wraps her arms around me and kisses the side of my head, hiding her whisper, “I never told them about Kane because I wanted you to keep him. I wished for you to escape, to run away from all of this—together.”
“He’s dead.” Tears slip down over my cheeks, stinging the raw patches of broken skin.
“He’s a Kobalt,” she whispers back. “They won’t allow him to die when they need him.”
I want to scream that he has nothing to do with Helene. He’s a Xandros. Mine. But that means he’ll be dead, so I swallow the urge as I take the gauze. She’s been using new towels each time so none of the dirt has mixed into the water, and I ignore her presence as I tend to my wounds.
Kane will come back. He’ll be a dick, the new Kane, and he’ll speak to me like shit. I’ll be able to argue with him with the full power of my memories. He’ll apologize, promise not to hurt me again before we swim across to the nearest country together. We won’t repeat the same arguments, now that I remember everything. I’ll make him be my Kane again. Not the new bitter, hateful version—the old one who was kind. The best part of my life.
I keep repeating it as I wipe the dirt out of the shallow cuts on the bottom of my feet. I’m so fucking tired, I can’t wrap them in gauze. I leave them exposed to the air and drop the towel in the pile beside me as my eyes close.
Anna gently moves around me to lay a blanket over me. Her hand is equally soft, stroking my hair back, sniffling with each pass. I’m on the brink of sleep, my head slowly dropping to rest on my shoulder when Anna tearfully whispers, “I’m sorry.”
There’s a sharp scratch against my bicep and my eyes snap open to see the end of a syringe sticking out of my arm. The drugs slowly work through my body, taking my ability to move first. I try to fucking scream at her, but it only comes out in a mumble as she stands. Walking backwards to the door, she lifts her chin, announcing, “She’s ready now.”
Tapping.
Helene.
This fucking traitor has betrayed me again.
I can’t even protect myself as the monster walks into the room, followed by three guards in mirrored masks. She taps her cane in an odd pattern as she looks down at me slumped against the wall. “Silly girl.”
My mumbling turns more erratic as the guards step around her. I manage to move my foot from side to side as the wall keeps me up, but it’s not enough to stop two of them hauling me up to my feet by my arms. The third pulls a bag over my head, securing the bottom portion of my face with a thick, harsh band like they’ve wrapped a belt around my mouth and buckled it at the back of my head.
I can’t breathe, black dots dancing over the small pinholes of light the hood allows.
