Page 150 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

The question plays on his mind, though.

It’s always been a non-issue because desire or love are abstract terms, ‘other people’ problems, whereas Riley has just been trying to survive the horrific shit his body puts him through.

Men are grotesque. He hates them.

In all fairness, the only men he knows are in this tower.

Violent, swaggering and hideously repellent in every way.

The only girl he’s ever known was his aunt.

Maybe Riley doesn’t like either.

Just another way to be a freak, to be other.

It starts playing on his mind; his traitorous body and how it systematically betrays him once every three months. His only saving grace, much to his disgust, is Troy because he’s the one who keeps everyone away.

Troy who makes sure no one gets curious.

Troy who locks him up tight.

Riley sometimes fears what freedom might look like.

What would it be like in the real world without steel doors and bars and the threat of Troy Harker?

He doesn’t want to find out.

✴

At nineteen years old, Riley’s dreams are the only window into a world outside of this room. He dreams of his brother, he dreams of the little girl with the dark curls, and even of the girl he saw Céliane clinging to in the fire. He dreams of a man doing cartwheels on grass. He is the outsider to his brother’s life, trapped behind glass, but happy for him regardless.

It’s all he has. All that keeps him going.

Riley is sullen and unpleasant to be around, mired in a suffocating blend of self-hatred and utter loathing for Troy. Days pass excruciatingly slowly and yet entire seasons slip by without Riley having even noticed. He loses himself in what books Troy brings and tries to build some semblance of happiness around the people he sees in his dreams.

Riley no longer cries or begs.

He accepts his life, and tries not to wish for more, even though he hates it. He hates this room, these walls, this floor and ceiling. He hates his mind and his senses and his skin. His insides, his organs, his voice, his face.

Hatred is acidic.

It eats away at him in strange ways.

The animal part of him sometimes hisses things, suggestions.

Riley hates that most of all, because it’s the part of him that, every three moons, begs for things Riley doesn’t want.

He wonders if his brother feels like this, if anyone does.

He hopes not.

Wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

✴

Riley is twenty years old when there’s a blackout.

It hits at the very height of summer, when Riley’s internal clock tells him it’s almost three AM He’s in his room, tonight is not a roof night, and when the door at the bottom of the stairs opens, it grinds slowly, forced manually by someone who is not Troy.