Page 27 of Scavenger's Oath
Her breathing is shallow. Measured. Holding everything inside, like she’s afraid if she lets it out it'll shatter her.
Sitting down fully, I keep my back against the bars, arms resting loosely on my knees. My back to her so she doesn’t feel so exposed in her vulnerability.
I know what it’s like to feel like your body isn’t your own. Like it doesn’t belong to you anymore. I remember that feeling all too well.
My nostrils flare now that my back is turned. I noticed the swelling on her bottom lip, the faint red marks on her neck.
What the fuck did you do, Myles...?
Flashes of his head snapping back as my fists connect with his face fly through my mind.
Gritting my teeth, I shove those thoughts back down and force my voice to soften. “I haven't… read the book. I can get you a different one. If you don't like it.”
Still nothing.
But that’s ok.
I want to say something. Anything. But I know nothing will bring her out of whatever haze she’s hiding in. She’s not blinking, not responding.
I’ve seen this defence mechanism enough—experienced it myself—to know that sometimes it’s more comfortable than reality.
Letting the silence fall between us, I don’t press any more conversation on her. Simply staying with her, showing her that I'm not the same as him. That maybe, even if she can't trust me yet, I’ll keep the pieces of her from falling any further apart.
She was finally starting to whisper small sentences to me. Now it’s back to square one. And I’d trade anything to hear her voice again. Even if it was only to tell me to leave.
Something fragile and precious was crushed just as it started budding.
Whatever Myles destroyed; I'll rebuild. Even if it takes everything I have. Even if it kills me.
This caged girl is both taking me back to those dark days and reawakening fiercely protective instincts that I wasn’t prepared to feel.
I don't know how long I sit with her. The silence stretches thin. Heavy. But I stay until her shaking slows and her breathing evens out. Until she blinks again.
Then I get up and quietly leave.
My hands won't stop shaking with fury, but I keep them by my sides.
I want to find Myles. Drag him into the holding room and replicate every bruise he gave her while she watches. So she knows I won’t let that shit happen.
But that’s what the old me would’ve done. Made ashow of violence, an eye-for-an-eye. And if I start, I won’t stop at just a few bruises.
The only other option I can think of in this blinding rage is finding Phoenix. If anyone can handle Myles without leaving blood on the floor, it’s him.
Their dynamic is an odd one.
Phoenix dominates but Myles is far from submissive. I used to like watching when they fucked. The brutality of their play was exactly what I needed. Familiar. And free from the guilt of non-consent.
When I decided abstinence was better for my mental health they didn’t push me.
Jerking off wasn’t hard to stop until this week. It’s creeped back into my routine and is the only thing keeping me from breaking.
Storming down the hall, my chest feels like it's wrapped in barbed wire, pulling tighter with every step. Flinging the lounge room door open, I find Phoenix reclined on the armchair.
I hate how relaxed he looks, sitting in his usual spot by the fire like some kind of King of the ashes. Legs spread wide, elbows on his knees, a blade dangling from his hand. But he’s just another beast trying to stay in control.
“Phoenix.” My voice comes out strained. “I need to talk to you.”
He doesn’t look up. Staying fixated on the light bouncing off the blade as if it's the only thing worth noticing in this place.
