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Telling Bridget I’ll find my way back.

Telling Saoirse that Da’s coming home.

Telling myself I still exist outside this place.

But every time I reach, my hands scrape against the cold, unyielding stone.

And their voices slip away into nothing.

I open my mouth to scream, but there’s nothing left in me but dust and silence.

The pit whispers.Low and endless, threading through my bones.

Stay.Stay.Stay.

No one is coming.No one ever was.

The dark never forgets.

It only waits.

Then, without warning, a blinding flood of light so sharp it burned through my skull and seared into my retinas until my eyes watered and my head pounded.I tried to block it out, squeezing my lids shut and pressing my palms against my eyes, but it didn’t matter.The light was relentless, scorching through every crack.

And then it was gone, and I was plunged back into the suffocating dark.

The cycle repeated.Darkness that stretched on endlessly.Long enough to make me desperate for anything else, to make me yearn for even a sliver of light.When the light came, it was cruel—blinding and unforgiving.

And then there was music.Not real music with a rhythm or melody.No, it was ear-splitting, distorted, droning tones that vibrated through the pit.Sometimes, it blared at full volume, rattling in my skull and making my thoughts scatter like broken glass.Other times, it dropped to a barely-there hum, just enough to get inside my head.The same three notes over and over, cycling in an unholy loop to keep me from resting or slipping away into unconsciousness.

And then silence.

The silence was worse than the sound.Worse than the light.Because when the silence came, I knew she was watching.That was when I sunk to my lowest and started begging.Not for freedom.Not for survival.But for the darkness to take me completely.

For this to end.But it didn’t.

Sometimes, Aoife speaks.That’s when it’s the hardest because she isn’t cruel, not in the way I’d expect.She’s careful.Calculated.She talks like she’s trying to reason with me, like this is all some fucked-up lesson.Like I’ve forced her hand.

"I could let you out, Ruairi," she told me once, crouched just outside the pit, her voice gentle."All you have to do is admit you were wrong.Admit I deserve a seat at the table."

"You’re not one of them, Aoife,” I growl.“No matter how much you want to be."

She only smiled before turning and walking away, leaving me in the dark.

And still, that was nothing compared to the blade.

My fingers twitch at the memory, my wrists raw from where they tied me down, forcing me to stay still while the edge of steel kissed my skin.The cut was shallow, a warning, but the intent was clear.If she wanted to, she could have me killed.

I shudder.I can’t let my mind go there.Not now.Not when I need to hold on to the only thing keeping me sane.

Bridget.God, she must be out of her mind with worry.I can picture her pacing our bedroom, her face drawn with exhaustion, her green eyes full of fear, full of the same fire I fell in love with.

And Saoirse.My little girl.She must be wondering where her da has gone and why I haven’t come home.Does she ask about me?Does she cry at night?That thought cuts deeper than any blade ever could.

I grit my teeth against the jagged lump rising in my throat, but it’s useless.There’s no fighting the regret clawing its way through my chest.

I should’ve told them I loved them more.

Should’ve kissed Bridget longer before I walked out the door that morning.