Chapter Six:The dark
1389 Words
Content warning : mention of abuse
Flashback:
She was twelve.
The hallway outside Mr. Abernathy's office smelled like bleach. Cora stood in front of the door, her hand raised to knock, her stomach twisting into knots.
She didn't want to go in.
But the note had been clear. His handwriting, slipped under her pillow during breakfast. "My office. 8 PM. Don't be late."
She was never late. She'd learned what happened when she was late.
Her knuckles hit the wood. Three soft knocks.
“Come in."
The door creaked when she opened it. The office was dim, only the desk lamp on, casting long shadows across the walls. He sat behind the desk, glasses perched on his nose, papers spread in front of him like he'd been working.
He hadn't been working.*
“Close the door, Cora."
*She did.*
"Lock it."
Her fingers trembled on the latch. The click echoed in the silence.
"Good girl." He pushed back from the desk. Stood. He wasn't tall, wasn't physically imposing. Thinning grey hair. Watery blue eyes. Soft hands that had never done manual labor.*
Those hands were the problem.
“Come here."
She walked toward him. One foot in front of the other. She'd learned not to hesitate. Hesitation made it worse. Made him angry. Made him take his time.
He met her halfway. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking along her cheekbone. Gentle. Almost fatherly. That was the worst part. How gentle he could be right before he wasn't.
"You've been avoiding me."
"No, sir."
"Don't lie." His grip tightened. Not painful yet, but a warning. "I see everything that happens in this place. I know when you take the long way to the dormitory. I know when you hide in the library during free hour. I know when you're trying to stay away from me."
Her heart pounded. "I wasn't—"
"Shhh." His other hand came up, pressing a finger to her lips. "It's alright. I forgive you. But you need to remember something." He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You belong to me. You've always belonged to me. And no matter how far you run, no matter where you hide, I will always find you."
His hand slid from her cheek to her shoulder. Down her arm. To her wrist.
“On your knees."
The carpet was rough against her bare legs. She stared at a stain near the leg of the desk, a coffee spill someone had tried to scrub out and failed. She focused on that stain. Memorized its shape. Let her mind go somewhere else while her body did what it was told.
She'd gotten good at going somewhere else.
His hand fisted in her hair. Yanked her head back.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you."
She looked. Those watery blue eyes stared down at her, hungry and satisfied all at once.
“No one is coming for you," he said. "No one wants you. Your parents threw you away like garbage. The state pays me to keep you fed and breathing, and that's the only reason you exist." His grip tightened. "You have no value except what I give you. Do you understand?"
“Yes, sir."
“Good." He smiled. That soft, terrible smile. "Now open your mouth."
End of Flash back:
Cora woke up gasping.
Concrete beneath her. Darkness all around. Cold seeping into her bones.
Not St. Jude's. Not the office.
The cell. Damien's punishment.
She sat up slowly, her body screaming in protest. Everything hurt. Her feet, torn up from the run. Her arms, bruised from being grabbed. Her head, pounding from dehydration.
How long had she been here?
No way to tell. No light. No sound. Just the dark pressing against her like a living thing.
She pulled her knees to her chest. Wrapped her arms around them. Made herself small.
*You belong to me.*
Abernathy's voice. Damien's voice. They blurred together in the blackness, becoming one.
You have no value except what I give you.
Her throat tightened. She wouldn't cry. Wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction, even if neither could see.
She pressed her forehead to her knees and breathed.
Time lost meaning.
She slept in fragments. Woke shivering. Slept again. Her stomach cramped, empty and angry, but the hunger faded eventually, replaced by a dull numbness that spread through her whole body.
The darkness played tricks on her.
She saw shapes moving in the corners. Heard whispers that weren't there. Once, she could have sworn she felt breath on the back of her neck, and she spun around so fast she made herself dizzy.
Nothing. Just the dark.
Three days. He said three days.
She started counting. Seconds. Minutes. Lost track. Started again.
Gave up.
The memories came whether she wanted them or not.
Flashback:
She was fourteen.
The basement at St. Jude's was supposed to be off-limits. Storage only. But Abernathy had a key, and Abernathy made the rules.
He'd taken her down there twice before. Both times, she'd lost hours. Came back to herself sitting in the dark, body aching in ways she couldn't explain, mind carefully blank.
This time, he had a camera.
"For insurance," he said, setting it on a shelf, pointing it at the mattress he'd dragged down there. Stained. Smelling of mildew. "In case you ever think about telling someone. In case you ever forget who you belong to."
*She stood frozen by the stairs. Every instinct screaming at her to run.*
“Don't make me ask twice."
She walked to the mattress
Cora slammed her fist against the concrete floor.
Pain flared through her knuckles. Sharp. Real. Enough to drag her out of the memory, back into the present.
She was shaking. Sweat on her skin despite the cold.
"Stop," she whispered to the darkness. "Stop, stop, stop—"
The light flickered.
She froze.
The single bulb above her, dead since Damien had locked her in, sputtered to life. Just for a second. A flash of dim yellow light that illuminated the bare walls, the thin mattress she hadn't touched, her own hands trembling in her lap.
Then darkness again.
Cora stared up at where the bulb had been.
It flickered again.
Longer this time. Two seconds. Three. The bulb buzzed, struggling, like something was feeding it power that wasn't supposed to be there.
Cora's chest felt strange. Warm. That same pressure she'd felt before, in the room, in the forest. Building behind her ribs.
"What the hell," she breathed.
The light surged.
Bright. Blinding. She threw her arm over her eyes, white spots dancing in her vision.
Then it exploded.
Glass rained down. She curled into a ball, arms over her head, tiny shards prickling against her skin. The darkness returned, absolute and complete.
But the warmth in her chest remained.
Cora lowered her arms. Sat up slowly. Her hands were shaking, but not from cold anymore.
She'd done that.
She didn't know how. Didn't understand what was happening to her. But somehow, impossibly, she'd done that.
The rest of the time blurred.
She stopped trying to count. Stopped trying to think. Just existed, curled on the cold floor, drifting in and out of a sleep that wasn't really sleep.
The memories kept coming, but she got better at pushing them back. Not gone, never gone, but manageable. Contained.
You survived him. You'll survive this.
She repeated it like a prayer.
You survived him. You'll survive this.
When the door finally opened, she didn't move.
Light spilled in from the hallway, harsh and blinding after so long in the dark. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, tall, broad, features impossible to make out.
"Three days." A male voice. Deeper and Calmer. "Time's up."
Cora squinted against the light. Tried to push herself upright. Her arms shook. Gave out.
Footsteps. The figure crouched beside her.
Dark skin. Shaved head. The man from the first night, the one who'd walked in before Damien. Marcus.
He studied her for a moment. No pity in his expression. No cruelty either.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes." The word came out cracked. Barely a whisper.
She couldn't walk. They both knew it.
Marcus exhaled. Then he reached down, hooked an arm under her legs and another behind her back, and lifted her like she weighed nothing.
- Writer
