Page 19 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

When the door finally opens, I blink into the gray daylight, willing myself to walk away with my head raised high, although my body is shaky with hunger and exhaustion. But most of all rage. Pure, deep, visceral hatred.

In the beginning, when I was still a child, I would cower in the corner and cry, beg, try to find a way out, try to somehow break that fucking door open.

I thought of my parents then. Of the idea of my mom and the image I barely remembered. Of how her arms must have felt around me.

I also thought I would go crazy.

Now I work out. Try to sleep, drifting in and out of nightmares until the panic ebbs away. Trying not to go crazy. But every time I feel more broken. More shattered.

I make it to my room upstairs in the main building without shedding a tear, my face so impassive I must look dead from the outside.

The mansion is vast, embedded alone in the middle of a forest and hills covered by nothing but more trees. The property alone is the size of a small national park. Lyrian bought the whole valley. My room is small compared to the others, and utterly barren, but at least it has a window from which I can see the forest.

As soon as I’m alone, I retch into the toilet. Not that I have much food in me. I meet my reflection in the mirror as I brush my teeth. My skin is ivory white, but not just because of my frequent sun-starved days or the relentless rain.

No. I have no color in this place—never have, never will—save for the regular bruises on my body.

It is only when I’m in the shower, under the stream of water, away from Lyrian’s all-seeing eyes, that I allow myself to cry.

I crouch on the tiles for a long time before I get up and eventually turn off the water. I change into fresh clothes—black running gear—and head out the door. Rain hits me. There’s barely a day when there is no fog or at least a slight drizzle.

I start to run—toward the hills, through the evergreen forest, through those strangely crooked oaks and willows, their branches covered by moss and their trunks so crooked they look like ancient creatures, bending to the relentless wind.

The shore is forty minutes from the mansion. I easily find the path that twines through the woods, would find it even with my eyes closed. I have run here since I was a child, following its lure until I stood at the very edge of the cliff, the ocean waltzing hundreds of yards below.

I stop now, my lungs burning from the sprint, my muscles protesting from exhaustion and lack of sleep. I step to the very edge like I always do, thinking not for the first time of spreading my arms and jumping.

It’s my way out. If I can’t bear it any longer, it is my way out. That’s my deal with myself.

But not now.

Not like this.

Not without fighting.

Yet every time I stand here, the Abyss seems to call to me. Beckoning me to take one more step and jump. Sometimes I even dream about it, of the water calling my name.

I ignore it and turn away and, slowly this time, make my way back.

***

It’s almost dark when I reach the mansion. I go straight up to my room where a tray with bread and butter awaits me on the floor in front of my door.

I eat it out of sheer necessity. I need my strength. Need it to escape one day.

I wolf down a few bites before I step toward the window, to the empty canvas standing there, and start to paint.

Painting. Sometimes it is the only thing that allows me to hold on, that can give me joy. Makes me forget for a while about my miserable life. Of who I am. Where I am.

***

Later in the evening, there’s a knock at the door. Kayne walks in uninvited with a dress draped over his arm.

I glower at him, my lips curling back, baring my teeth. Sometimes I dream of ripping his throat out with those teeth. Strange, lurid dreams, I know, but maybe my past has indeed made me an animal. Half wild, just like Lyrian says.

As if he can sense something in me, the colossus takes one step back before he declares, “There’s a function. Lyrian wants you to accompany him.”

“Does he now?”

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