Page 89 of Desecrated Saints
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m the motherfucking bait.
“Why torture me, then?”
Bancroft snorts. “We need some entertainment.”
The deep groan of chain links grinding sparks panic within me. The cage is shuddering as it begins to lower into the putrid water. I don’t waste any precious energy shouting or fighting, it won’t stop them. As my body is lowered into the freezing depths, too many disgusting scents to process assault me.
I’m swallowed by decay and death.
The world disappears into inky darkness.
Clamping my mouth and eyes shut, I float like a dead body. My lungs begin to burn before long, screaming out for relief. No matter how hard I tug on the metal bars, they refuse to budge. The stumps where my fingers used to be burn, and my shoulder is too weak to do much damage.
Fighting is futile, but human instinct doesn’t listen to reason. Terror and panic force me to batter the cage regardless. At last, exhaustion pulls me under as my chest screams for oxygen. In the semi-conscious haze, I accidentally open my mouth and swallow a mouthful of water.
Whatever was in this pool before me, it’s been left behind to rot. Then, there’s light and so much oxygen, I can’t even gulp it down. Pulled out of the water, the cage dangles on its heavy chains. I cough up water as Bancroft’s laughter reverberates around me.
“Enjoy your swim, Mr Kent?”
“F-Fuck you!”
“Manners. Lower him back in.”
Peering through my soaked blue hair, I catch sight of someone on the platform behind the cage. It’s another guard, one I’ve seen hanging around and watching the abuse. I’m submerged again before I can protest, even as someone bursts in and shouts for Bancroft’s attention.
Back in the water, I wait without hope of rescue. This time, they leave me in for much longer. Whatever commotion is going on, I’ve been left and forgotten. Fuck, am I going to die here? I thrash and writhe before being pulled into unconsciousness by oxygen deprivation.
Her face finds me in the dark.
My lighthouse, guiding me back home.
“Firecracker,” I whisper.
We’re surrounded by packed bookshelves and empty desks in Blackwood’s library. She saunters towards me, sprawling out in my lap like a lazy cat seeking attention. I cup the back of her head, letting our lips meet. It doesn’t matter if the CCTV cameras and guards are watching.
Her love is worth the punishment.
“Do you dream about the future?” she murmurs, curling her slender limbs around me. “We could have a life after Blackwood. Out there, in the real world.”
I tuck sun-kissed hair behind her ear. “I want to see you get out of here and finally get better. We could do anything… be anyone. Live far away from this madness as a real family.”
“All of us?”
“We love you,” I reply simply. “Your future is our future.”
The lightest smile plays across her lips. That’s how I know this isn’t real. My Brooklyn doesn’t look like that when she smiles. It’s always underscored by pain and emptiness shining in her eyes, despite the hope tugging at her lips. She never fully smiles. Not really.
“Then you better wake up,” Brooklyn says.
“I don’t want to let you go. This might be the last time I see you.”
Her hand cups my cheek, gently stroking. “Not a chance. You don’t have my permission to die yet. Hold on, Nix.”
Air is pushed past my numb lips as two firm hands pump my chest. I come screaming back into the real world. Rolling onto my side, pain races through me as I vomit water over and over again, unable to peel my eyes open.
“That’s it, get it all up.”