Page 54 of Corrupt Shadows

Emptiness reigns. Loneliness claws the inside of my skull as I realize I’m back here. A place I thought I escaped long ago. My eyes are open, but I can barely see. Time has no meaning; it exists only in the expanse of the gaping chasm within my chest.

A chill creeps over my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. A breeze drifts through the stale air from a seemingly nonexistent source. Everything aches, down to the follicles of my hair. I roll over for a change of scenery, the inky darkness swirling before my eyes. The new position is no more comfortable than before, only a fresh section of body to punish with the unforgiving stone floor. The dampness on the stone beneath me leaches into my body, settling into my bones and coating them with frost.

The silence is overwhelming. My own breath is too loud in my ears. I swear at times I can hear my stomach gnawing on itself as it hungers. The meager scraps from the small ration of food are long gone. I bend my legs tightly against my body, the beating of my heart anything but soothing as my brain throbs from its ceaseless pulsing.

Panic blossoms in my gut as I try to remember the last time I saw another living creature. My brothers inflicted the simplest and brutal form of torture imaginable. Isolation.

I lose time, floating in a state of blurred consciousness. Oily blackness slithers through my veins, slowing my heart and thickening my blood. My head throbs as my veins swell almost to the point of bursting, but I break through into consciousness before it can happen.

My vision clears again, but nothing has changed. I stare unseeing at what I imagine is the ceiling. Manic thoughts creep through my mind, and my soul withers just a bit more. I struggle to sit upright, causing my head to swim and nausea to churn in my belly. When it settles, I crawl to my threadbare blanket in the corner farthest from the entrance to my cage.

I settle my ass on the ground, my tailbone making itself aware in my gaunt, starving body. I pull my legs up to my chin and lean back against the bars. My skin burns at the contact, the sizzle of my searing flesh audible. What little magic I’ve stored up since the last time I indulged my craving for self-inflicted torture dribbles from me and freshens the wards of my cage. This pain is the only thing that makes me feel and reminds me that I’m still alive.

Pain is the one thing I can count on to always be there for me. It will never leave me wanting or begging for its cruel company. I pull my holey blanket around my shoulders, groaning when the slight movement allows the bars to mark a fresh part of my skin.

I don’t fucking care anymore. No one loathes me more than I loathe myself. I allowed this to happen, so I deserve every hunger pang, shiver, and decade of isolation charged unto me.

Drip.

Drip.

I grind my teeth, doing my best to ignore the sound, but now that I’ve acknowledged it again, it’s all I can focus on. I’ve no idea where the noise is coming from, but it has been here for as long as I have. Its constant presence makes me want to claw off my own ears. Madness clouds my every thought as I picture the ways I will rid my brothers of their lives when I eventually free myself from this cage.

Laughter bubbles up from my chest, escaping my lips. It starts off slow and quickly builds to an uncontrollable cackle. I throw the back of my head against the bars, feeling delirious from more than my ever-present malnourishment and dehydration.

I dig my fingers against the sides of my head, trying to ignore the drip stabbing into my brain. It seems to get louder, booming in my ears.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“Shut the fuck up!” I roar, as if that will do any good.

I press my hands tighter against my ears, rocking my body forward and backward, hitting the bars with each sway back. Blissfully euphoric awareness awakens my nerves. My blanket sticks to my freshly injured back, causing me to hiss. I seek comfort from its scratchy fibers, but every time I do, I lose more of it. Threads pull loose and rip it from my wounds. Soon, my only source of warmth will be reduced to threads. What will I do when it’s gone?

Pain ravages my body, and I fall to the floor on my back. My muscles and tendons ache as I squirm closer to the bars. The front of my thighs, my chest, and the backs of my hands burn as I burrow into my enclosure. The pain is like a comforting embrace, soothing my anxious thoughts with its familiarity.

Still, hopelessness stretches inside me, demanding more space and consuming everything in its wake. Nothing I do eases the gaping chasm inside me. I’m all alone with my thoughts; they are my tortures. My mind is becoming a cage more than the bars I live within. I am trapped behind dark thoughts that feed the madness within. Someday the madness will become too much and—

My airway constricts, and the breath freezes within my lungs. Something within my brain seems to disconnect.

My body twitches with exhaustion and misery when a familiar voice echoes in my mind, sounding clearer than the others had. “We’re coming for her,” my brother, Ezra, promises in a cold, detached voice that leaves no room for denial.

“Get out!” I bellow until my voice goes hoarse.

I topple out of bed and land on the stone floor of my bedroom, causing pain to ricochet down the right side of my body. Panic grips my heart in a vise as I fail to realize I’ve awakened. I gasp and my vision tunnels. My shadows explode from my chest and wrap around the posts of my bed to steady me as delirium fights for control.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I roar, balling my hands into fists and losing control of my shadows. They lash out, ripping the drapes from the window and punching a hole in the stone wall. I dive my fingers into my hair and yell again. My wrath knows no bounds as I fight for control of my mind. The inferno building deep within me forces me to double over, and a scream tears from my throat.

I stand abruptly and wreck my room with my shadows, backhanding my stained-glass lamp off the nightstand. The glass explodes out of its iron frame when it shatters from the impact against the wall. The nightmares were getting better, but ever since Solomor showed his cards, they’ve come back with a vengeance. I cannot handle these fucking dreams, paranoia and madness slinking along the edges of my mind, waiting for a weakness to show so they can crawl in and take hold once more.

When I sleep in Evie’s apartment in the Shadow Realm, the nightmares are not as shattering, and they occur less frequently. Something told me that tonight was going to be rough, especially after stalking Solomor and watching him make no moves other than to question those who might have information about me.

I’m glad I chose not to sleep in her apartment tonight and instead shadow-walked back home. It’s not modest by any means. Ghost Rose Manor sits on a sprawling eleven acres of woods far on the outskirts of town.

The floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace roars to life across from my canopy bed. The uneven stones lining the hearth glow with warmth. I stare, entranced by the violet flames. Fire is much more enjoyable to watch in the Shadow Realm than its glaring-orange counterpart in the Human Realm. Behind the iron fireguard, the hellfire hums with energy as it consumes all oxygen within its reach. The split logs catch, and a plum hue flares across them, the flames lightening as they grow. Lavender sparks dance away as it crackles and draws upward with the air.