Page 115 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn
If my powers truly serve me, then my experience would say I’m fucking right about it.
We just need to get ourselves to the island.
The silence that now stands between us is so loud, raw emotions slamming through Ritter. I don’t know if it’s agony or fatigue in Ritter, but his more vulnerable side is raw to me. “It is so hard to trust Jane out there. Not because I don’t believe in her, but because there’s so much about the fucking world I was unable to teach her. I dread facing judgment that I failed her by the fates presenting me with her body?—”
He goes quiet, and I don’t press him.
Perhaps he and I are battling much more than just being worried for her. The world has burned us in ways that we can’t see straight, because we know better. For now, I have to trust my desert rose can handle herself, and that soon, we’ll be there for her.
And when this is all said and done, I’m never evenbreathingthe air near a witch again.
J A N E
It's hard to get out of bed that following day.
I could hardly focus all night. Anya’s raw emotions, mixed with a body that was broken and needed to be cleaned, made me feel like every breath I took was her taking the same one, but somewhere else. Somewhere darker.
I don’t know what they’re doing to her, but whatever I do next,hasto be effective. If they catch me…Jesper’s threat…
Sitting up, I stretch before rising to my feet, grabbing the sharp pebble from underneath my pillow that I found on the first day, making another notch next to the hearth, the warmth of it soothing me.
Seven.
I’ve officially spent seven nights here.
Seven nights of a bed, a hearth, and regular food, while many suffer in the bowels of this castle.
How does someone like me reach them and break through those iron bars? Melona said they just neededtimeto make it out. So I not only have to break them free, but also distractMisery.Or, well, I’m not sure about that. I haven’t seen as much as hisshadowsince being here.
What if he’s more incapacitated than they let on?
Time is running out, and I can start to feel my body losing weight, running my hands along the bony parts. I’m either too nauseous to eat, or too guilty. For a long time, I was just dropping bits and pieces of food out the window or burning the rest while consuming only the bare minimum: some bread here, a piece of fruit there.
This morning will be different.
I can’t help anyone if my energy is shot because I haven’t eaten properly in over a week. And after seeing Anya, it’s clear I’m not a prisoner here. Not with the niceties of this room. Not with my clean hair.
That’sleverage.
They need me.
When food slips through the flap at the bottom of my door, I stare at the eggs, some bread, and porridge, consuming what I can. Which, of course, makes me nauseous as the food stretches a starved stomach.
I sit by the door as I wait for someone to take the remainder of what I couldn’t finish, only saving the bread in case I gethungry later. When there’s the faint sound of feet climbing in a rhythmictapup the stairs, my heart races with anticipation. The stepping stops, and then the flap pushes open?—
“I have a request.”
The hand that was reaching out pauses—small, dainty, and very clean; perhaps shaking slightly as if startled. Then I hear, “Uh, yes. I can ask for you. What is it?”
“I’d like to go back down to the main floor of the castle. There was a room that faced the ocean, and had a piano inside,” I say, recalling the layout as Jesper boldly walked me through. “I’d like to go there. If Jesper is willing to let me visit that room, I’ll be willing to have arealconversation with him. Hear him out on what he wants, and answer his questions with the truth.”
I have a feeling he’ll takethatbait, but probably only once.
I’m uncomfortably aware that there’s no room for error.
Waitingfor Jesper’s response is both exhausting and relieving; I can slightly relax, even if for a moment, knowing there’s nothing else I can do while I wait, and that I’ve simultaneously taken action. So, I stare out the window, eyeing what mytruetarget is with a calmer mind.
Placing my fingers on the stoney windowsill, I peek through and look down at the space I’ve stared at for countless hours, sometimes just watching the waves, memorizing every aspect of the castle I can see. I spot the large balcony, way down below, the one that faces outward to the ocean.To the right is the roof of what looks like the staircase we descended, the stone going intothe soil. I remember those windows, which aligned with the view I saw when glancing out of them.
