Page 63 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

63

ZORA

T he cold chill of the cellar settled deep within my bones. I dragged my finger against the iron door covered in small drops of condensation until the tip of it went completely numb. I pulled my knees closer. The muscles in my jaw painfully throbbed from my teeth clattering nonstop. My chest hurt constantly now, whether from a wretched disease or my ribs refusing to heal, I wasn’t sure, but I hoped it’d be that rather than the truth of my reality. Anything to distract me from what I had done. I folded my arms tighter around myself, the movement jittery and forced, muscles sore and painful.

Had I sat in darkness for days or hours, or weeks . . . I didn’t count. At first, I didn’t care and when I started to, it no longer mattered.

I fucked up.

He left.

A simple equation.

All I could do now was force myself to feel as I sat in silence. To remember how to feel.

A feeling so foreign, a notion so cruel. But I forced myself to do it.

I owed Gia that much. To live. To feel.

I am such a fucking coward . . . A tear as icy as the droplet on the wall rolled down my bruised cheek. I didn’t deserve redemption.

A single step echoed through the cellar, and I froze. My drowning thoughts paused as I carefully listened, ears tuned for every sound out of place.

It wasn’t a guard. No, they were always loud. The meager dinner servings they brought clanked with each of their steps.

I swallowed soundlessly, waiting.

I must have gone insane. Must have imagined the quiet sound of a step.

But I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was someone behind the door lingering in the darkness.

Orest. My heart called out, as if recognizing his presence.

But Orest was gone. He would be miles away from here by now.

“Hello?” I finally called out. My skin prickled in millions of goosebumps, and yet I was only met with utter silence. A cold drop of sweat rolled off my brow and chills trembled through my body. But I found myself speaking words that I knew fixed nothing, they wouldn’t change the past or what I had done. But words I wished he’d hear even if it was the very last thing I’d ever say to him.

“I am so sorry, Orest,” I uttered into the silence. My stomach cramped, making me gag. I coughed on the bitter saliva coating my tongue. The grief, the guilt, the feeling of worthlessness and absolute misery dragging me back into the dark soothing waters of the Numb, pushing me to the very edge. But I clawed against the walls closing in on me. I fought with everything I had against its luring call.

“I am so fucking sorry,” I cried out.

But he was gone.