Page 19 of The Madman and his broken Princess
“You need to take off your wet clothes. If you get pneumonia…” His voice choked up with fear.
I let out a shuddering breath. The idea of getting up and out of my clothes seemed too monumental, but Nestore’s worried expression spurred me on, and so I dragged myself up by the bars. I glanced over at the bed. A rough gray blanket lay folded at the foot of it.
I forced one foot in front of the other until I reached it. Then I began to peel off my nightgown. I kept my panties on and slungthe blanket around my body. The coarse material rubbed over my sore skin painfully, making me wince, but it was warm, and that was all that mattered. I draped my nightgown over the sink, then slunk back to where Nestore waited, his back turned to me.
“I’m decent. You can turn around.” Tears filled my eyes at Nestore’s consideration. He was so sweet to me. I wished I could have saved him today.
“Don’t cry,” Nestore said roughly.
“I’m surprised I still have tears left.”
“It’s a good sign. It means he didn’t break you yet.”
I swallowed hard. “He’ll try now that I’m in here.”
Nestore’s face flashed with despair. “I want to protect you, but I don’t know how.”
“At least, we’re always together now.”
Nestore pressed his forehead against the bars separating us. “You don’t belong in here.”
“Neither do you.”
“Sometimes I forget who I was before this.”
“I’m here to remind you.”
Time became meaningless down here. Several weeks passed. How many? It was hard to tell. Nobody ever came down here to talk to either of us. Father had stationed guards at every door, so even if Flavia had tried to visit, she wouldn’t have succeeded. The only one who came for me was my father. Like he had this morning. Or afternoon? What time was it? What day?
My eyes moved when my body could no longer do so, until I found Nestore. He too lay on his side, with his eyes on me, as broken, as desperate as I was. Like always, he had sufferedworse. Father tortured him worse, but he could take it better. I wasn’t sure I could survive for much longer.
I lay there battered and broken, watching him as he watched me. In the beginning, I’d cried every time I had to use the toilet because he could hear it. Now I didn’t even ask him to turn around anymore, though he always looked away.
Our breathing was heavy in the basement’s silence. It rattled in our chests, a desperate echo in the darkness.
Nestore stretched out his hand, slowly, his chest heaving from the effort and agony, until his fingertips passed the bars between our cells.
I looked at them for a few heartbeats, at the blood sticking to them, before I inched my fingers toward his. A small sigh passed Nestore’s lips when our fingers touched.
This slight touch symbolized the fragility of my will to live. I wasn’t sure how Nestore had survived for so long without any hope for escape or a better future.
“Stay,” he croaked.
I blinked.I will. I wasn’t sure if I’d said the word or only thought it, but Nestore understood me without many words.
I didn’t want to die, but I knew I couldn’t live in this eternal darkness forever. We both needed a miracle. I wished I believed in them.
Amelia lay curled up on the pallet, covered in the blanket. Her nightgown wouldn’t dry down here. It was too dank.
Her red hair tumbled down the edge of the bed. She didn’t belong in here. I wished I could save her. I spent almost every waking moment I was alone fantasizing about how I’d torture and kill her father, but sometimes, very rarely, my dreams were filled with images of a future with Amelia. The darkness inside my chest was almost crushing, and I had no way to unleash it. I wondered when it would simply burst out of me.
The door creaked open, and my body filled with adrenaline as my flight instinct kicked in. I had learned to hide my terror, but it still filled me every time the door opened. It rarely meant anything good.
I was surprised to see Flavia Lamorgese enter the cell. I hadn’t seen her since my birthday party. She was heavily pregnant. Bruises bloomed on her face and covered her arms. Her gaze passed me by and latched onto Amelia. Worry and fear clouded her expression. “Is she…?”
“Asleep,” I rasped.
Her eyes met mine, and she sighed. “I warned her to stop visiting you, but she wouldn’t listen. And for what?”
