Page 42 of A Sea of Secrets
He stepped back, and I saw our reflections distorted in the glass, though I knew a tear had fallen down his cheek. His bottom lip quivered, and he sniffed, staring at his blurred reflection. That was the last tear I’d ever shed.
The world faded out then back in, like the blink of an eye.
Fear gripped me, holding my chest in a tight fist. I dropped to the floor, my knees curled underneath me as I pressed my hands on the ground. Rapid breaths punched the air from my lungs, and I trembled as I tried to regain my composure. Pain from my prosthetic arm shot through me and I looked at it, only to see the metal had been replaced. Plastic dug into my skin from where it was braced against one side of my head. Stupid cheap piece of shit. I hated it back then and I hated it even more now, knowing how much better my current bionic prosthetic was.
I rolled over, seeing my past self laying opposite me—looking through me like I was a ghost or some shit. Pain crossed his face, his features scrunched as he endured the hunger I remembered so vividly. I didn’t want to see this. It was bad enough going through it as a child, let alone reliving it.
The boy sat upright, sparks flying from his hand as it hit the lamp on the bedside table, knocking it to the floor where it smashed and plunged the room into darkness. There in the dark, he let out a cry of desperation. Of fear. The boy would eventually learn that his magic was a rare one, but it would never save him from this place.
A void cracked open within me, tearing at my insides, and sweat coated my skin as I shivered despite the warmth of the night. I didn’t fucking miss this feeling.
“They’ll be back,” the boy cried, his voice trembling.
“No, they fucking won’t,” I growled, though the boy didn’t hear me. Those words were for me and me alone. “Your parents left. They’re never coming back.”
Another blink and the room shifted once more.
The carpet was rough against my cheek, but I didn’t move. Instead, I lay there, listening to the sirens from outside, the groans and muffled talking from the room below making me feel as though I wasn’t entirely alone. My past self had his back to me, his fragile body shuddering with each breath. He no longer cried.
I shivered as I watched him, the void within me sending cracks throughout my body, leaving me in pieces, like a shattered window after a bar fight.
Another day passed and still no one came.
How had the Overseer accessed these memories? Were they able to see all I had ever gone through? Every fucked up little thing? Or was this some strange trick of my brain, testing me with these past days I wanted to forget?
Fade out, fade in. The world transformed before me.
My stomach growled along with the boy’s. He was beyond hungry, but there was nothing left to eat. Bare shelves haunted me as I remembered thinking about leaving the room to find food. I’d never left; I’d been a little fucking coward. I was so desperate for my parents’ return that I’d stayed in the room despite the very real prospect that I could have starved to death.
My past self clutched his stomach, holding onto it as though his guts would spill if he didn’t keep a tight grip. He scrunched his brow and my parents’ faces flooded my vision.
My mother, with her long brown hair and blue-grey eyes, smiling at me, freckles scattered along her plump cheeks. She was nestled up against my father, her petite frame pressed to his broad one. He grinned, too, in that charming way that everyone seemed to like, running a hand through his mop of black hair.
It had been years since I’d last thought of them, yet here the fucking traitors were. I was clearly seeing what my past selfwas imagining, but that didn’t stop the resentment that surged through me.
These feelings weren’t new. This anger had been crafted from years and years of hatred, whittled into a sharp blade. I was no longer the boy but a beast, forged anew. Nothing and no one were going to hurt me again.
I opened my eyes, the hunger pains gone. The void of emptiness and pain that had been a giant pit within me had vanished.
Fuck the Overseer.
Fuck the Masters.
And fuck anyone who ever tried to manipulate me again.
Taking deep breaths, I rose to my feet, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. A laugh escaped my lips as I thought of the final trial—the test that had been put before me. The Trial of the Mind… well, it was time to get the fuck out of mine.
“Nice fucking try!” I shouted at the peeling painted ceiling, arms spread wide. “If this is all you have, then you haven’t got shit!”
The room shifted, morphing into the garrison from the first trial. The scent of the marsh filled my nose as I looked around at the stone space, the light of a beacon catching my eye out one of the windows.
That fucking red light could go to hell.
“Fallon! Noah!” I shouted, descending the stairs to the lower level. “Zane! Kayden!”
Nothing, not a single fucking reply.
I’d thought the memories were the final test, but I’d obviously been delusional to think the Overseer would go that easy. I’d never thought she’d dump us back into the first trial. I needed to find the others and get the fuck out of here.
