Page 61 of Crimson Tears

Using this technique, I focus on my breathing to force myself to hyperventilate and pray for some kind of relief from this monster. But he clamps a hand over my face and I stop just as darkness begins to settle around me.

That’s when I make yet another mistake. I hear Cillian shouting my name, and I look at him. His eyes are like an anchor. They keep me grounded and drag me to the depths of his love. I can see it all right there.

Then, I look at Boris and see something similar. Not quite an anchor, but an understanding. Instead of pleading for forgiveness with his eyes, they lend me the strength I need as he nods.

The gloved hand is removed from my face and I suck in a breath as the darkness fades. Green tries to get me to look at him, but I focus on what I need to do instead.

Right at that moment, I harden everything in my mind because I don’t know when I’ll get another chance. My walls have to be impenetrable, and to do that, I have to disassociate. That’s the only way I will be able to survive this.

Taking a deep breath, I think of myself outside of my body, as if I were just a fly on the wall in this room. I try to muddy the scene before me, not focusing on any one person or feeling. Instead, I find a spot on the ceiling and imagine that I am there until the rest of the room fades away.

I see in my peripheral as Green takes something from Gray’s hands; blue flames burst from the end of it.

I can hear myself screaming, smell flesh burning and the pain registers, but I shove it all aside. It feels almost as if I’ve found a way to put myself under water in a bathtub. The world around me still exists, but it is no longer easily heard or processed. It justis.

Reminding myself to breathe becomes my only thought. Not the pain nor the fear. Only the sensation filling and leaving my lungs.

Inhale, exhale, close eyes. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

???

Sometime later, I come back to myself. I’m not sure if I passed out, or if I was just able to keep the veil up in my mind for that long. I try to stretch my feet, but searing pain consumes the movement.

That’s when I remember they used a torch on them. They said something about being unable to run, but I had tuned them out for the most part by then.

My lips are cracked, and I realize just how dehydrated I am. It’s been over a day since we got here based on the guards' eating schedule. I need water.

Taking a chance, I glance up to see Boris and Cillian sitting as close to me as they can in their cells. It’s then that I notice a cup of water next to my head.

When I try to sit up, my body protests instantly.

“Try not to move,” Cillian says.

Ignoring him, I shift so I can sip the cup of water with minimal effort. Once it’s empty, I let it fall to the floor with a sigh.

“Ness, I’m so feckin’ sorry,” Cillian says, remorse saturating his tone.

“If I hear that again, I will punch you in the dick the second we are out of here.” I can’t handle his pain and mine too. Especially when he has no need to be sorry. This is going to be a long road. I knew what I was doing when I followed him into that building. This is no one’s fault but my father’s.

So, just to help shut him up, I show him my very empty wrist. I wasn’t sure I would make it past Gray, so the second we hit the wall together, I shoved my bracelet into the front pocket of his vest.

He will likely realize it as soon as he pays attention to his gear, but hopefully, he will be in a place that has a signal.

“Fuck, such a good girl.”

His breathless praise does something to my insides, but unfortunately I can’t focus much on what that is because the pain is too great.

I can feel myself begin to shake, a new wave of shock threatening to consume me.

“What do you need, Little Fox?” Boris asks gently.

Some of the panic subsides at the sound of his voice alone. Knowing he’s here and by my side is enough to soothe some of the anxiety.

I know I wanted to find something that would help bring us all together, but this is not at all what I had in mind.

“Distract me,” I whisper. It hurts too much to talk normally, but maybe if I’m able to focus on their words and presence, I can find some sense of peace.

Boris and Cillian exchange a few words, but everyone stops when a sound from the door alerts us. I peek open a single eye I had allowed to drift shut. The middle compartment of the door to Cillian and Boris’ room pops open and a tray of food is pushed in.

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