Chapter 3 3

A LOUD CLANG HAS me jolting awake. Light, the first I've seen since I made my pathetic attempt to escape, slashes into the small enclosed space, momentarily blinding me as I weakly push myself up into a seated position. Wincing, I tuck the bird I'm still holding close to my chest with one hand, and with the other, I partially cover my eyes, blinking hard as I try to adjust my vision. The metal door is now open once more. A body blocks the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from behind him.

It's probably not all that bright in reality, just like the day I got outside and thought the sun exploded. But it feels like knives slicing through my corneas all the same. "Get up," a voice barks, his tone as harsh as the faint Russian accent curling around his word. Swallowing painfully against my parched throat, I find myself doing as he says, pushing shakily to a hunched stand. My dress is torn and ragged, stiff and too big on me now. I'm sure it reeks of piss and grime, but it's been so long now, I'm used to it. Footsteps thud across the concrete floor, drawing closer. I curl my shoulders up by my ears, blinking rapidly. Someone makes a gagging sound. "It smells like death in here." "Trust me, Ez. This isn't death," Corvin replies dryly. You would know, I think bitterly. He stiffens next to me, and somewhere nearby, a short laugh sounds. Shit, did I say that out loud? Corvin hisses something in Russian to his... friend? Brother? Who fucking knows or cares.Ezio, I think, recalling his name vaguely. The other one I can't remember. Something unusual though, just like the other two, but longer maybe? I was drugged almost as soon as it was said. Just another thing lost to me. More footsteps approach, and I shift away from the light so I can see better. Corvin stands in a sea of discarded paper birds, some of which are bent and scuffed black now from the dirt on his shoes. He gives a single cursory glance at my collection, brows wrinkling faintly before smoothing out once more. In the corner of my eye, I watch as Ezio bends down to pick one up. He rolls it around in his hand, lip quirking up as he turns his head to the side. His mouth opens, but Corvin interrupts him before he can say anything, or shed any sort of light on which one of them is responsible for these weird little gifts. At least, I assume it's one of them who's been bringing me my meals. "Tell Griselda to ready the bath." Ezio sighs and gives a single nod. "Yes, sir," he murmurs, mouth still curved into a smirk. It pulls at the scar on his cheek, giving him a roguish look. I swear I can feel Corvin's eye roll. My younger captor eyes me up and down one last time, his nose wrinkling in obvious disgust, and then he turns on his heel, disappearing through the open door. Now that my vision has mostly adjusted, I can make out the black ornate wall lamp jutting out from the stone wall. It's like something you'd see on the streets of Victorian London. Memories dance through my head of an earlier time. The day I woke up to find my cell door left open. I didn't question it or take any time to look around. I just... ran. Blinded by my desperation, I darted out of my cell,hardly sparing a glance both ways. I vaguely remember the three figures standing at one end of the hall, and at the opposite end... Another door, and it was already open. Just like mine. So busy frowning, trying to figure out what feels so wrong about the scene playing out in my head, and rolling around his statement, wondering who Griselda is, I don't immediately notice Corvin has moved closer. My instincts are slower than ever, more of a hindrance at this point than of any help. Or perhaps my body has just finally given up, succumbing to its fate. I try to find it in me to care. I really do. Deep down, I know it's there- that drive to survive-but I'm having a hard time wading through the fog to find it. I'm fucking tired. A large, warm hand grips the nape of my neck in an unforgiving grip, snapping me out of my scattered thoughts. I freeze, before trying to pull free, but it's no use. He all but drags me up against him, so my knees knock, legs trembling like those of a newborn foal's. A choked whimper escapes me, and Corvin's eyes narrow down at me. "Aquillus," he murmurs. That's it, that's the other one's name. Aquillus. My wide eyes dart toward the door. While I heard more than two sets of footsteps, I didn't see the other twin until now. He must've darted right into the shadows once he entered the cell. A tall, lean figure steps out from next to the door, the lamplight from beyond casting a slash of yellow over his blank face. Unlike his twin brother, his dark hair is several inches shorter, reaching just below his ears. The top is much longer, though, curling messily over his brow, hanging over his eyes. He tips his head so he can see me clearly, his eyes more focused than I remember last time, but still dull and unreadable.A phantom pain shoots through my arm as I now recall our last encounter. The memory is fuzzy at best-more physical than mental. Shivering, I recoil from him on instinct, despite my earlier musings. As much as I miss that nothingness from the drugs, I can't help but fear it too. Corvin makes a sound under his breath, almost like a laugh. He says something in Russian that has Aquillus dragging that unnerving gaze from mine to his. Something works across his face, almost a smile, but not quite. It's the most emotion I've seen the younger guy wear in the brief, fuzzy moments I've seen him. Still, he doesn't say anything. He does move closer though, and it's then that I hear the sound of plastic creaking. My head is still being held in a firm grip, but I'm able to dart my gaze down to what Aquillus holds in his hand. Corvin reaches for the half-full water bottle with his free hand. He brings it to his mouth, releasing the sports cap with his teeth, before lifting it to my chapped lips. My stubbornness takes a backseat to some primitive drive inside me, one that has me greedily sucking the water down, tipping my head back as he squirts it down my throat. This time, Corvin does chuckle as I near-choke on the tepid water flooding my mouth, droplets sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw. It's a deep, rumbling, wicked sound that feels like nails scraping across my brain. "Damn, look at her face," he says. "So greedy for it." I tense as Aquillus comes into my line of sight, stopping mere inches away from my face. I shoot my wide gaze to his, and this close, I can almost make out my reflection in his dark eyes, masked only by the light coming in from the hallway beyond."You'd think we just pulled our cocks out," Corvin goes on with a cruel laugh. I start choking on the water. While it's not that cold going down my throat, it feels frigid sliding down my neck, my chest. Aquillus tilts his head, but doesn't say anything. I swear something like curiosity moves through his gaze, lighting up his furrowed features, even if it's just for a moment. "Maybe we should give her a taste of that instead, yeah?" Corvin taunts, ripping the bottle away from me and tossing what's left of it across the floor. He tugs me closer, lifting me until I'm practically on my toes. He bends down, running a nose over my temple, his hot breath fanning across my cheek, warm and smelling of something sweet, but pungent. Whiskey, or maybe Scotch. "She's gotta be starved. Lonely..." he says. "Hollow." My body ices over at what he's saying and wordless protests squeeze through my clenched teeth as he grips my wet chin with one hand, tipping my head back. The other twists my hair and pulls, yanking back until my neck tendons scream, threatening to snap. He looks down at me, his nose pressed right against mine. So close, I can feel it flare. His dark, soulless eyes bore into me. "That what you want, Ptichka?" he says softly. "Will that make you feel better?" Rather than spit in his face like I want to-like I'm pretty sure I did at some point, but I can't remember when, or if it was even real and not just a fantasy I concocted to pass the time-I clamp down on my molars, jutting my chin up at him in silence.His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but not in displeasure either. His gaze flickers down and around, and this time, I know it's a smile. A mean one as he hums to himself. "I bet it got real lonely in here. Real boring too. These birds your friends? Did they help?" My brow wrinkles as I try to keep up with what he's saying, what I... think he's implying. Aquillus makes a noise at the back of his throat, the first I've heard from him that I can recall. I flick a glance at him through the corner of my eye at the same time Corvin side-eyes him. He doesn't immediately say anything. Slowly, then all at once, Corvin eases his grip on me, shoving me off him. Not expecting it, I stumble, nearly falling flat on my ass. He catches my elbow at the last second and makes a sound of disgust as I stumble for balance. "Yeah, on second thought, we might want to wait 'til she's clean." He tugs on a greasy strand of hair with his free hand; it looks nearly black in this lighting. "Who knows what might be crawling up inside her?" I shudder at the thought, but also feel oddly vindictive at the thought of them being disgusted by me. A small victory, even if it's short-lived. Grabbing the paper bird still clutched in my hand-the one I forgot I was holding-he all but rips it away from me and throws it on the floor. Something splinters in my chest as I cast a long, forlorn look at the paper birds scattered across the cell. Are they gonna take them from me? I wonder, dimly aware of Aquillus making another soft huff. "Davai," Corvin says, gripping my elbow before stomping toward the open door with me in tow and Aquillus at our back.Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Aquillus just as he crouches down, picking up the bird Corvin just chucked away like it was nothing. Dark brown eyes lift up through even darker lashes, a piece of hair curling over his brow. Before I can make sense of the storm of emotions glaring back at me, I'm pulled away, given no choice but to walk forward. My eyes bounce around the narrow passage as Corvin drags me down the hall opposite of where I made my escape. It's all dark, mottled cobblestone, just like the walls that lined my cell, broken up only by the sparsely lit lamps. It's as if we're in some kind of medieval castle. Or walking down the cobbled streets of old London. It can't be more than fifteen feet between each door, my cell smack-dab in the middle, confirming what should've been obvious from the start, what I've been so reluctant to admit to myself. They let me go. They wanted me to go, to run, to escape. I was too blinded by fear, clouded by hunger at the time, to see what was right in front of me. And after I woke up, after they locked me back up, I was too... angry and devastated and exhausted to acknowledge the truth. It was a test. Or maybe just a game? They did seem to enjoy... hunting me. Taking their time, yelling out and cawing and screeching like fucking vultures swooping down on their prey. I risk another glance back, longingly eyeing the door I know leads to a staircase, then to a cellar door, and then to freedom from this cold, dark, timeless place. Aquillus appears, blocking the only exit I know of. Movement draws my gaze down to his hands, where something long and sharp glints in theyellowy torchlight. A knife. My gut hollows as my gaze lifts, clashing with his blank, distant stare. I don't realize my steps have halted, until Corvin growls something and throws me forward, putting himself behind me as he guides me toward the only other way out of here. Wherever it may lead. I was wrong before. This one isn't just any old door. It's an elevator. And not some shotty old thing like you'd expect down in the bowels of the earth, but something silver and polished with an insignia engraved in the middle. Wings, with some kind of symbol or sigil intersecting them vertically. The whole thing screams money. And pretentiousness. My heart thuds as a memory flits across my mind. I only glanced back a couple times when I escaped, checking to see how close my pursuers were, and what I could make out was mostly blocked by dense, unchecked growth speckled with snow-pine and fir trees, weeds, and vines crawling up the side of a looming gray stone building. Between the thick surrounding forest and the holes burned into my retina from seeing daylight for the first time in who knows how long, I couldn't really get a good look. Plus, I had more important things to worry about, like running for my life. Coming to a sudden stop inches from the sealed metal door, I teeter into Corvin's side. He grips the stiff, tattered fabric pooling around my waist, twisting it in his hand as he pulls it tight, steadying me. He jabs his thumb into the button on the right of the elevator door, and I frown when I spot the little two-by-four inch panel above it. Thin crosshatch green lasers appear over a small screen, and Corvin leans forward, lining up his face. What the fuck? It pings, and Corvin's face is briefly lit up green before he steps back. The doors slide open, and I still when the small, enclosed space comes into view. I don't know what I was expecting, but rich, mahogany floor-to-ceiling paneling and dark gold carpeting were not it. Nor was the gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Without a word, Corvin drags me inside. I don't even try to fight him on it, knowing it's pointless. He's taking me upstairs, and I'm not about to piss him off and make him reconsider letting me out. I think of that little rectangular grate in my room. The one I swore would light up sometimes. There were a couple times I thought I even heard muffled voices beyond the quiet footsteps. A sign of life beyond my little hole in the ground. When they just ignored my screams, I gave up completely. Told myself no one was actually there, and I was just imagining it. It was easier that way. Now, though... now I'm not so sure. Aquillus steps in after us, tucking himself into the corner by the button panel. He's twisting the knife aimlessly in the air, like it's his very own fidget spinner. Behind me, Corvin inhales deeply, as if he's the one who has to brace himself for whatever's coming.It's not until the door seals shut that I remember the drip-drip-drip I now leave behind... And wonder just how far I've fallen, when I realize I never got to tell it goodbye.