Another hit comes, so hard that the chair rocks, but it settles back without falling. I can barely feel my face at this point, but I’ve no doubt it’s a swollen, bruised mess. The searing pain in my stomach takes all of my attention, my body begging for help where it needs it the most.
I cough, feeling the blood trickling down my chin as my head swims. “You’re wrong, you know.” Without waiting for him to interrupt, I force the words out, feeling on the verge of blacking out. “As much as you claimed this wasn’t a game, you still ended up losing.”
“Fuck you, Lucien,” he spits. “Which one of us is strapped to the chair bleeding out right now?”
Chuckling, I pant, trying to suck down shallow gasps of air, but unable to catch my breath. “It was never about me having everything you didn’t, Victor. It was about knowing how to appreciate things before they were gone.”
I turn to the side, heaving up everything in my stomach before I can get another word out. Shuddering, I’m torn between freezing and my flesh feeling fevered.
“You lost everything chasing after what was never yours to begin with.”
Chapter 13
Atlas
––––––––
Lying on the cementfloor of the room they tossed me in, Cambria’s screams echo down the hall. They dislocated my shoulder while beating the shit out of me, and I still feel on the verge of puking, but it’s finally a point in my favor.
Carefully, I start working my arms down and under my legs, bringing my handcuffed wrists to the front of my body. I take a few steadying breaths and yank off my blindfold before biting the bullet and using the wall as leverage to pop my shoulder back in place.
This time I can’t fight the wave of nausea, falling to my hands and knees and start heaving up the bile left in my stomach above the drain in the center of the floor. My palms burn as they’re scraped open, but compared to the rest of my wounds, it’s hardly worth mentioning.
As her shouts start to fade, I smack my shackled hands on the ground, screaming in frustration. The room is basically an empty cell, one made to easily hose down after being put to use. The only other thing is the solid door, and I’m not stupid enough to hope it’s unlocked.
My skin crawls and I start retching again, burning agony replacing every other thought. Sweat coats my fevered flesh and my vision blurs as the energy drains from my body, leaving me on the verge of passing out. My shouts taper off as I cough, stomach and throat revolting the abuse.
Sucking down lungfuls of air, I push down the temptation to just roll over and pass out, to pretend none of this is happening and buy myself an escape from the agony, if only for a little while. Denial; what I wouldn’t give to be able to embrace it right now.
Another wave of pain leaves me shaking, but I push past it. I’m under no delusions that if I go to sleep in this place, I’m either not going to wake up, or pray that I never do. I can’t allow myself that break, will lose precious time and energy if I indulge in the desire. My hands tremble as I start to force myself upright, but I freeze when my fingers brush across something soft.
Blinking a few times as my head swims, I look down at the tiny flowers and mushrooms arcing out in a path in front of me. There’s no charred ring, and the tiny blooms look different, but there’s no denying what it is.
Our ticket out of here.
“Of fucking course I’d get the hippie powers.” Mumbling to myself, I stand on shaky legs, stifling a groan. “Couldn’t get goddamn fireballs or something cool. No, I get to leave construction behind to become a florist. Fuck you, irony, or karma; whoever the hell gets their sick kicks out of screwing with people.”
