Page 52 of Irreversible

Eaten alive by blood-thirsty rodents.

Drowning. Burning.

A broken heart.

My nostrils flare, my chest inflating with volatile breaths.

No.

I can’t die like this, not now, not after surviving in this prison for two years. I refuse. “You’re not done with me yet,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I know you’re not. I just started a new cycle.”

“How observant of you.”

“You still need me.”

“Again, you presume my needs. That’s never wise.” Hauling me off his shoulder, he spins me around, then grips me by the nape of my neck and propels me forward. “I’ll have Roger bring you a glass of water and a slice of bread. Multi-grain. It’s the least I can do.”

I drop to my knees, skidding across the dirty, cold pavement as tiny pebbles leave scrapes along my shins and kneecaps. I’m on my feet in an instant, lurching through the darkness, just as a steel-barred door slams in my face and a key quickly locks me in.

“No!” I curl both hands around the iron bars, shaking them fruitlessly. “Don’t leave me here. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll?—”

He starts whistling as his shadow retreats from my new cell. “This will be beneficial for you, Everly. You’ve become too comfortable here, too spoiled. I hope you take this opportunity to appreciate the luxuries you’ve been given.” Pivoting away, The Timekeeper tosses a few final words over his shoulder before disappearing into obscurity like a predator swallowed by the night. “Not everyone is so lucky.”

I scream so loud I feel my throat chafing with raw agony. Wailing, bellowing, screeching like a banshee, I pound frail fists against the iron grates, pulling, tugging, doing nothing but wearing myself down. It’s no use. I’m trapped, isolated, and terrified.

I drop down on my butt and curl my knees to my chest.

Shadows move and roam.

Creatures lurk.

Animal? Human?

I’d take ghosts and monsters over these inhumanehumansany day. I’d let the rats chew through my bones before I’d let The Timekeeper snuff out my life. He doesn’t deserve the privilege.

Minutes tick by as the darkness devours my whimpers and cries.

My eyes play tricks on me.

How long has it been?

I forgot to count the seconds.

When I hear footsteps from above, my head snaps up, but I can’t even see the ceiling. It’s a pitch-black sky of endless uncertainty. Oppressive. Icy fear trickles through me, and I start to shiver, rocking back and forth on the stony cement. My nightgown is hardly a worthy substitute for my mattress, providing no cushion, no insulation.

Something crawls along my toes.

Anyone else might flick it away, stomp on it, but I revel at the contact. Likely a spider. Another lifeform, keeping me company. I’m not alone.

I scoot backward until my spine meets with stone. My limbs tremble, aching for warmth, and I do everything in my power to shut off my mind. I retreat into blankness, much like I did during my first few weeks here. It’s my only power.

Roger finds me sometime later—minutes, hours?—and I scramble to my feet, stumbling toward the iron-clad door as I wrap my palms around the bars. “Roger.”

Nothing.

His shadow is massive, looming across from me as a hand reaches between the slats with a plastic cup of room-temperature water. Part of me wants to slap it away, but I’d only be hurting myself.

I take it and drink.

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