Page 62 of Crimson Tears

My stomach growls, as a new pain hits me. Hunger pain.

Thankfully, that’s the one I am most used to thanks to my father. He loved to deny me food as a punishment. When I was younger, my mother kept a short leash on him when it came to disciplining us, but he always found a way to make us hurt. When I was ten, I remember sneaking goldfish crackers into my sister’s closet to make sure she didn’t go to bed crying of hunger ever again.

I didn’t dare sneak anything into mine though. My father had a knack for finding my hiding spots. The punishment after that was always worse.

But I never heard those tears of hunger from my sister through the wall we shared again.

I don’t think my father ever suspected Enya would disobey him. She was quiet and calm. Always staying in the background, which is exactly the way I wanted it to be.

Anytime she got loud or excited about something, I did my best to be louder so that my father went after me first each time. I was hoping it would escape her notice, but I think the older she got, the more aware she became.

Cillian nor Boris make a move towards their food, content with watching my door as if they could will it to open with a five course meal.

Even if they did decide to feed me, I don’t think I could move to get it right now.

“Eat,” I say hoarsely.

Again, they stay still.

“Listen.” I push myself up on my side so that I can look them both in the eye, heaving for air as my ribs adjust to the change of position. “It hurts like a bitch to talk, so if I tell you to feckin’ do something, I need you to do it. Now,eat.”

I try to keep my voice firm. They need to keep up their strength in case we get an opportunity to escape before Evie gets to us.If she can even figure out where we are.

Part of me wonders if we’re back in Ireland. Cillian said he could hear the people talking when he was basically paralyzed. I wonder if he knows if we got on a plane or not.

“Any idea where we are, Killer?”

I don’t look at him as he answers. “All I could make out was that we stayed in a car the whole time. Though I’m fairly sure we crossed a border, and we were on the road for about ten hours.”

I try to process that information. If we crossed a border then we’re either in Finland, the Ukraine, or Belarus. It’s not likely they could enter the smaller countries around us without raising suspicion, but the larger ones would have been much easier.

I hear them getting their food as I get comfortable, this time curling up closer to Boris. I miss his soft touches and heat beside me. He must feel the same because he presses himself against the glass as if nothing were separating us.

“I know you do not wish to hear apologies, so I will offer you something more. If we get out of here, I vow to keep you safe. We will find a place where your father will never be able to touch you.”

A soft smile touches my face.

“Does that mean you aren’t leaving me then?”

He looks over at Cillian, then down towards me. “I was never leaving, just offering space.”

I roll my eyes and even that movement hurts. “I think I’ve made it clear, I don’t want space.”

My bad hand gestures between us, and I realize just how purple it is. In fact, my whole arm from the bite mark down seems to be turning a light grayish purple.

Feckin’ hell.

Boris sees it too but doesn’t comment. There isn’t anything either of us can do anyway. I just have to hope we’re rescued before infection can really set in.

I have to hold on. I have to. Evie will be here soon. I have to stay strong for them.

Instead of allowing my concern to show, I tuck my hand towards my chest and cover the worst of it up. Cillian is eating with his back to me, likely trying to hide it so I don’t feel worse. I can’t though. Knowing he is okay and eating is enough to help me relax the tiniest fraction.

I was afraid they would separate us. And while this predicament has its challenges, I feel like I can still lean on both of them.

A few minutes later, Cillian comes back to the corner of his cell that brings him closest to me. It’s painful but I maneuver towards him. Part of me believes I can feel their touch though the barrier between us, and I need to feel both of them.

“So, Old Man, tell us what your wildest job was.” Cillian tries to make conversation as I hold back a snort of laughter that would be way too painful if it escaped.

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