Chapter Five - Stones and Shadows
994 Words
The door slammed behind her.
The sound echoed like thunder in the narrow hallway, and then—silence.
Lilith stumbled forward and caught herself on the damp stone wall, her hands slipping against the rough surface. The cold hit her immediately, like a slap to the face. There was no warmth here. No light, save for a flickering bulb in the ceiling that buzzed weakly overhead.
The cell was bare. No bed. No blanket. Just four walls, a metal bucket in the corner, and a concrete floor stained by things she didn’t want to think about.
This was where they put things they wanted to forget.
She sank to the ground slowly, every movement aching. Her arms wrapped around her knees—not for comfort, but because it was the only thing her body remembered how to do.
Her skin still burned. Her breath still trembled.
She could feel the weight of him even now, the echo of his voice in her ears, the unbearable ache of being made small—used.
Her name meant nothing here. Her voice, even less.
Lilith pressed her forehead against her knees. The tears didn’t come. Not anymore.
There was only numbness now. A thick fog settled inside her chest and refused to move.
Time slipped by without meaning. Minutes, hours—she didn’t know. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she ignored it. Cold seeped into her bones, but she didn’t shiver. Her mind floated between memory and shadow.
She didn’t hear the door open.
Not until the footsteps neared.
She flinched violently, eyes snapping open.
A figure stood just outside the iron bars—tall, dressed in black, a single lamp held in his hand. He didn’t speak. He didn’t open the cell. He just stood there, watching her quietly.
Not like the others. Not with cruelty. Not with hunger.
Just... watching.
Lilith backed against the far wall, her breath catching. She didn’t trust any man in this house. Least of all someone who came without warning.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said at last.
His voice was deep—but gentle. Steady.
She didn’t respond.
He stepped forward slowly and set the lamp on the floor just outside the cell. The light softened the room a little, warming the shadows with a pale gold glow.
“You don’t know me,” he continued, keeping his voice low, “but I work for Tristan.”
Lilith's eyes narrowed.
Of course he did.
“He sent you to check if I’m still breathing?” she asked bitterly.
He didn’t flinch at the bite in her tone.
“No,” he said. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
That startled her.
He knelt beside the bars, pulling something from his coat. A cloth bundle. Carefully, he unwrapped it and slid it through the gap at the bottom of the cell door.
Food. Bread, a boiled egg, and a metal flask.
Lilith stared at it but didn’t move.
“I’m not stupid,” she said finally. “You think I’m going to eat that without thinking twice?”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,” he replied.
Silence stretched between them.
She watched him for a long moment. His face was calm and unreadable. He looked nothing like Tristan. His jaw was sharp, yes—but there was no arrogance there. No fire. Just weariness. Restraint.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said simply.
A pause.
“I just thought someone should check on you.”
Her chest tightened. Not from relief—but from how foreign those words felt. Check on you. She hadn’t heard anything like that in days.
“What’s your name?” she asked slowly.
He hesitated. Then, “Camren. Camren Costa.”
She committed it to memory. Not because she trusted him. But because it felt like the first thing in this place that wasn’t wrapped in cruelty.
“You’re not like him,” she said quietly.
His jaw tightened. Not with pride. With something like shame.
“No,” he replied. “I’m not.”
She reached out and took the food. Her fingers brushed the cloth, and for the first time in what felt like forever, something inside her warmed.
Not much. Just enough to remember that she was still a person.
---
Days passed—she thought.
It was hard to tell.
There was no sun in the dungeon. No clock. No one to speak to. Only the flickering lamp Camren had left behind, and the hum of silence that settled in her bones like rot.
Tristan hadn’t come.
Not even once.
And maybe that should’ve comforted her. But the silence—it hurt in a different way. Not like the bruises, not like the rawness that still lingered beneath her skin, but like she’d been discarded. Like she wasn’t even worth his anger.
He had taken everything. And now he didn’t even care to look at her.
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. The stone walls didn’t get warmer. Neither did her thoughts.
Camren came once more the next evening. And the one after that. But his visits were brief, and he never stayed long. Sometimes, he left food and said nothing. Sometimes, he lingered just a moment longer than he meant to, his hand brushing the bars, his eyes heavy with something she couldn’t place.
But he never opened the door.
And she never asked him to.
She didn’t know what she wanted from him. Maybe nothing. Maybe just a reminder that not every man in this house wanted to hurt her.
Still, he never said much. Never asked her questions. And never mentioned Tristan.
She didn’t mention him either.
She felt peace with this newfound acquaintance. He wasn't a friend nor enemy. But she could tell he cared.
Everything wasn't good, but it wasn’t bad, at least.
Not until she had an unexpected visitor…
- Writer
