Page 16

With a sneer, Vice tossed her into a small, dank cell, the heavy door slamming shut with a finality that made her heart drop into her stomach. She hit the cold, hard floor with a thud, the impact jolting through her body like lightning. The room was so tiny she could almost touch the opposite wall if she stretched out her arms. The air was thick with the scent of fear and despair, the cries of the forgotten echoing through the darkness.

Chapter 7:

As the dust settled, she lay there, unable to move, her body ached from the impact. She could feel the cold stones of the floor beneath her, the dampness seeping into her clothes, and the stickiness of her own blood from where she'd scraped against the hard floor. The only light was a flickering candle that threw dancing shadows across the wall, and she could hear the distant sound of rats scurrying in the corners.

Her thoughts raced as she stared up at the low ceiling of the cell, trying to process what had just happened. She had seen a glimpse of the monster he had been made into, and the pain in his eyes had been real. But she couldn't reconcile that with the cold, calculating creature that now held her captive. He was right. There was nothing to save.

Vice's footsteps grew fainter as he left, the echo of the heavy door slamming shut seeming to resonate through her very soul. The darkness of the cell enveloped her, and she shivered as the reality of her situation set in. The cold floor was unforgiving; the only comfort was the thin layer of straw that had been tossed into the corner. She could feel the ghosts of countless others who had been discarded here, their despair seeped into the very stones around her.

The candle's flame danced shadows across the wall, taunting her with the illusion of movement. Ivy's breaths grew ragged, each inhale bringing in the stench of decay that had been trapped within these walls. Her eyes looked around the darkness for any sign of escape, any glimmer of hope, but all she found was the blackness.

Her mind reeled with the revelations, the horrors she had witnessed. The monster before her was once a child, an innocent boy who had been subjected to the worst of humanity's cruelty. She could still see his terrified eyes in the lab, the same eyes that had looked at her with cold anger moments ago.

She curled into a ball, her body trembling uncontrollably, and the tears fell like rain. Each drop echoed in the silence, a silent scream of despair. Her sobs filled the small space, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the whispers of the forgotten souls that had been trapped here before her.

Suddenly, a small, furry body brushed against her leg, and she jumped in surprise. Her eyes searched the darkness, and she could just make out the glowing orbs of a tiny orange kitten. It had crawled in through a small hole in the wall, and the sight of it brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. The creature looked around the cell with wide eyes. Ivy reached her hand out to the little cat, and he bit her. "Ow you little shitbird!” she fussed at him, as he took off running.

Every day, the same ritual played out. The little orange cat, who she began to call Spicy Nuggets because of his fiery temperament, would sneak into her cell, run up and bite her, then run away. She’d yelp in pain but never retaliate. Finally, Ivy had enough. It became sort of like a game. She’d wait for him to sneak in, bite her but instead of not doing anything she started grabbing him by the scruff of his neck firmly. Just long enough for her to say, "No bites,” she’d say firmly. Then as she released the scruff of his neck, she’d take her thumbs and rub the sides of his face. The terrified little kitten would instantly melt into her hands, but as soon as the back of his head touched her knee he would snap out of it, his little eyes growing wide with terror, then he would try to bite her again, then run away.

One particularly dreary afternoon, as the rain pattered against the small, barred window high above, Spicy Nuggets approached her more cautiously than usual. She sat with her back against the cold stone wall; her eyes closed in a vain attempt to find some semblance of warmth. When she felt his tiny teeth press softly against her forehead, she didn't flinch. Shocked, she opened her eyes and stared into his.

His eyes searched hers, and she saw the fear in them dissipate as he recognized the warmth in her gaze. His body went slack, and he curled into her lap, purring contentedly. It was the first time she'd felt anything resembling affection in this godforsaken place, and she took comfort in the rhythmic vibration of his small body against her thighs. She stroked his fur, and for a brief moment, the cell felt less like a prison and more like a shelter from the storm outside.

Spicy Nuggets remained a constant, if mischievous companion. His love bites had become a strange sort of comfort, a reminder that she wasn't entirely alone in this world of shadows and pain. And as she lay there, with the cat curled into a warm ball against her chest, she couldn't help but wonder what twisted fate had brought them together.

But she couldn’t completely escape her reality. The candle's flame danced shadows across the wall, taunting her with the illusion of movement. Her breaths grew ragged, each inhale bringing in the stench of decay that had been trapped within these walls. The candle was a gift from one of the servants—whether it was out of pity or amusement, she couldn't say. It was the only source of light she had, and it served as a grim reminder of the passage of time. Each night, she would watch the wax slowly melt away, the flame growing lower and lower until it was just a flicker before dying out. And each morning,when the servant came with her meal, he would bring a new candle, setting it on the small wooden stool in the corner.

Her thoughts swirled like the candle's flame, flickering between the past and the present. The images of the lab, the needles, and the pain were always there, lurking at the edge of her consciousness. But now, they were accompanied by a new vision—a boy with the same fiery temper as the monster that held her captive. A boy who had been broken, twisted, and transformed into the creature she now knew as Vice.

Her heart ached for him, for the innocence that had been stolen. The sobs grew louder, and Spicy Nuggets' purring grew more insistent, as if trying to drown out the echoes of her pain. The warmth from his tiny body seeped into her, a stark contrast to the cold embrace of the cell. It was a strange comfort; this bond formed in such a place of despair.

Days turned into weeks, and the routine of their lives grew as predictable as the changing of the candles. Yet, she found that she looked forward to the moments when spicy nuggets would give her kisses. It was a dance of trust, one that she never grew tired of.

Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and she began to explore her tiny cell. The walls were slick with moss and slime, the smell of mildew permeating her nose. In the corner, she found a metal cup, half-filled with water that was probably as dirty as the floor she was lying on. With trembling hands, she brought it to her lips and took a tentative sip. It was lukewarm and had a metallic taste, but it was better than nothing.

The cold, hard floor had become a part of her, each stone digging into her body as she lay there, curled up in a tightball. Her mind was a chaotic mess, torn between the desperate need for escape and being swallowed by the darkness. It was a living entity, wrapping around her like a cold, suffocating blanket that offered no warmth or comfort.

Then, one day, the air grew thick and heavy, and a new scent filled the cell—a sickly sweetness that clung to the dampness. Ivy's body began to burn with fever, her skin damp with sweat, and her eyes grew heavy. She felt the weakness in her limbs and knew she was ill. Spicy Nuggets sensed the change in her. His bites grew gentler, his purrs more frequent, and his eyes never left hers. Sleep finally took hold of her.

Ivy awoke with a start, her body sore and stiff from the cold, unforgiving stone beneath her. She sat up, her head pounding, and immediately called out for Vice. "Please," she whispered into the darkness, her voice echoing through the small, damp space, "don't do this." But there was no response, only the distant, mournful howl of the wind and the occasional drip of water from a leak somewhere above.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, allowing her to see the bars of the cell door. The candle had burned down to a tiny nub, casting flickering shadows that played across the walls like grotesque puppets in a macabre play. She crawled over to it, the straw sticking to her clothes and skin, and blew it out, plunging the room into absolute darkness. She didn't need the light to remind her of where she was, of what had happened. The images of the tortured boy played in her mind like a never-ending nightmare.

"Vice," she whispered into the void, her voice cracking with pain. "Please, I’m sorry." Her words were met with a deafening silence. The cold seeped into her bones, thedampness of the floor creeping into her skin, making her shiver uncontrollably.

Her sobs grew louder, filling the small cell with the sound of her breaking heart. "Please, Vice," she whispered through the sobs, her voice hoarse and broken. "I'm sorry. I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, please." Her words hung in the air, a silent plea that she hoped would somehow find its way to him. But she knew deep down that he was probably too far gone to care, too lost in his own world of anger and pain.

The tears streamed down her face, mixing with the dirt and grime that had become a part of her. She felt like she was drowning, the weight of her situation crushing down on her. "Please," she said again, her voice a desperate whisper. "Let me out. I'll do anything, anything you want."

Her body was a tangled mess of pain and despair, each sob a silent scream for mercy. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and fears, each more terrifying than the last.

She didn't know how much more she could take. The darkness was winning, threatening to swallow her whole.

Her body, weak from lack of nourishment and fever, succumbed to the relentless embrace of the damp cell. Her vision blurred, and the shadows on the wall grew longer, twisting into monstrous shapes that danced in the candlelight. The cold, hard stones beneath her felt like ice, stealing away what little warmth she had left.

Ivy's breaths grew shallow, her chest rising and falling barely a movement in her weak frame. Her teeth chattered, and she pulled her knees tightly to her chest, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the inescapable chill. The fever playedtricks on her, making the walls feel like they were closing in, the air thick and suffocating. Each gasp for breath was a battle against the weight of despair that pressed down upon her.

"Alice," she murmured through chapped lips, her voice a mere echo in the damp cell. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby girl." The words were a painful mantra, a confession of her failure. She had tried to be the hero, to save James, to give her daughter a chance at a normal life, but all she had managed to do was to trade one kind of pain for another.