Castor hasn’t been back since that day he visited me. I don’t remember how long ago it was. There’s no sunlight down here. There’s no light at all except for the single strand of white pouring through the crack in the door.

I’m not here for information, Helena.

I want to hate him for making me feel this way. It’s like a security blanket now, even when I tell him no, when I struggle and beg him not to touch me, a part of me craves it, needs it. It’s almost bearable taking the torture Baron gives me when Castor sneaks in hours or days later. And I hate myself for it.

The last time he came to my cell, his face was bruised and cut. The outline of Baron’s ring made an imprint on his cheek like a brand. Maybe Baron found out Castor had been visiting me, and he punished him too. And he still came back.

I breathe into my hands, tucking my knees to my chest as I curl into the corner. The deep underground cements the frigid weather into the concrete. What I wouldn’t give for some food or warmth.

At least Castor gave me warmth for a time.

I tried to run once and Baron had kicked out my knee. Now, there’s a shoe-sized bruise on my thigh and a throbbing pain in the other from balancing on the opposite leg. I was lucky it wasn’t broken, like I’m sure Castor felt about his shattered cheekbone.

The thought of him gnaws at my insides, even harder than the hunger.

What was Baron doing to him?

The sound of footsteps makes me jerk and my heart leaps. Heavy footfalls from boots too heavy for his lanky body to handle and the clanging of a knife, bumping against his armor with each step, and making my heart race the closer and louder it gets.

Baron strides in seconds later, a bright look on his face.

“Miss me?” he chimes, smiling. He strips off his overcoat, leaving him in his black long sleeve muscle shirt, and I flinch when he tosses it in my direction.

“You don’t look so good, doll. You’re starting to look a little skinny.” He cocks his head to the side, his grin widening like an animal baring their teeth.

My stomach growls and I wrap my arms around it to stifle the sound. There’s nothing here. The only thing I’ve ingested besides blood and cum is the water Castor gave me. The hunger is forcing my body to hallucinate—a scent of freshly baked bread. It flashes in my vision, a small speck of brown out of the corner of my eye and I realize it’s not a hallucination at all.

In Baron’s hands is a small loaf of bread.

Another pang of hunger strikes, too hard for the pressure of my arms to ward off. My mouth waters, imagining what it would be like to taste food again. Warm, fresh, edible food.

Baron dangles it in front of my face, pulling back just as I reach for it.

“Is that what you want?” he turns the bread in his hands. “Or maybe a shower to wash that filth off you?”

I nod, barely managing to lift my hand off the ground towards the food.

He laughs.

“Where’s that defiant attitude you had a few days ago? Don’t tell me I broke you already.” He extends his hand, and my fingertips just barely graze the bread before he snatches it back again. “Give me what I want and you can eat.”

The muscles in my arm strain, heavy and unable to fully lift it before it falls back to my side. It’s pathetic, seeing how quickly my body corroded over a few days. All the training and hard work were nothing if I could barely keep myself awake.

I look up and see a small shadow in the corner. Castor. His arms are crossed, almost shielding himself from my view. I can’t see his face, but his arms are bruised, and his fingers are stained with blood.

Baron blocks my view, staring down at me with a condescending smile.

“Tell me where they are, doll.” He crouches in front of me, offering the food to me again. “You’re wasting away over your pride.”

I force myself to look away from the food, staring at the dusty concrete floor.

“Helena,” he warns.

I say nothing.

He grips my jaw and wrenches my gaze to meet him.

“Look at me when I talk to you!”

I moan in pain, his fingers digging deep into my jaw. Tears spark in my eyes and I glance back into that corner. He’s closer now, just barely visible in the light. His black eye has deepened, from a small bruise around the bottom of his eye, to a large black and purple mass that has extended up to his brow.

A tear slides down my cheek.

Help me. Please. If you’re on my side, help me.

But he doesn’t move. His fists are curled into a white knuckled grip but his feet are stone in the ground, hard and unmoving.h

Baron’s grip tightens, and a soft sob escapes my lips. His lip is curled into a snarl and he opens his mouth to speak but not before he catches my glance. His head turns and he catches sight of Castor, who shrinks back into the shadows of the corner.

Baron laughs derisively.

“What are you looking at him for? He’s not going to help you.” He turns back to Castor. “Isn’t that right, buddy?”

Castor’s eyes catch mine through the darkness and I feel a pang in my heart. He’d begged me to let him help me. He said he could protect me.

Please, Castor.

But he turns away, and his gaze falls to the floor, shattering any hope I had left.

Baron laughs again, and he hooks his thumb in my mouth, pulling me away from the wall.

“See? No one is coming to save you. No one is going to help you, feed you, cloth you. No one is going to give you anything but me.” He throws me back.

I don’t feel the wall this time. I can’t feel anything, but I see it—the beads of blood dotting my vision, promising me something I won’t get. Baron is death and he’s not done with me yet. Death would be too easy, but at least it would mean peace.

It takes time for the words to come out, and when they do, they’re hoarse and almost inaudible.

“I’m not hungry.”

Baron doesn’t react. He pushes the food out towards me again, this time inches from my face so I can see the steam emanating off the bread and smell the delicious aroma.

“Are you sure about that?”

My stomach growls in response.

He smiles with cruel satisfaction but he moves away with a shrug, standing up so he towers over me. He drops the food to the floor a moment later and stomps on it.

I lurch forward, and he scoffs.

“Lied again, didn’t you?” He digs his boot into the ground, squashing the bread into the ground. “Maybe my last lesson didn’t stick.”

I flinch when he flashes his white blade but he doesn’t reach for it this time. He tucks it back inside his overcoat and lifts his boot.

“Eat it.”

The bread is in pieces, patterned by the grooves of his boots and covered in dirt and grime.

It’s another game, a way to humiliate me. He won’t let me eat, even if it’s covered in blood and shit.

I return his gaze with a glare, the last act of defiance I have in me.

His smile fades and with an angry growl, he shoves his boot into my face, sending me flying to my back.

“I didn’t fucking ask if you wanted to,” he snarls. He presses his boot onto my face, the dirty food forced onto my lips. “I said ‘eat it’, you worthless bitch!”

I see a figure jump at the action, only to fall silent again seconds later. I try to spit out the grime, but the pressure on my head is too much, my already spotty vision darkening steadily.

That’s when I hear Castor’s voice, timid and uneven.

“Baron…”

“Quiet!” Baron pushes his boot harder into my face. My head feels like it’s about to explode, to collapse under the crushing weight, but he doesn’t stop.

I try to fight him, but even raising my arms is more energy than I have and when I try to scratch and claw at his leg, it barely registers with him.

Is this how I die? Crushed to death by a psychotic war criminal while my only salvation watches?

I’ve never been religious, not like my dad, but the thought of death beckons me like a warm embrace. Like hugging my dad for the first time after a deployment. I can feel him near, lulling me to sleep. I don’t care if heaven is real if it means I can see him again, to make the pain stop.

But it’s ripped from me again as Baron eases off the pressure just enough to bring me back to the biting cold hell I walk.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” He lowers his head just enough so I can hear him through the ringing in my ears. “You were never supposed to be here in the first place and now you’re wasting my time when we could’ve burned Acacia to the ground!”

“Baron! Stop!”

Castor’s command startles both of us and I can see the shock on Baron’s face before he moves off me entirely.

I force myself against the wall propping myself up just in time to see Baron throw his fist into Castor’s face.

Castor is thrown back, clutching his face as he falls to the ground. Baron calmly reaches down, pulling something out of Castor’s pocket.

“I think it’s time we speed this along,” Baron says as he turns to me.

The bottle glints in the light, a small vial of clear liquid.

Ricin.

“Tell me how eager you are to die with your pride.”

My pulse spikes in my chest and I pull myself away from him. “Wait. Baron, stop. I don’t know anything.” I raise my hand to stop him but he slaps it away just as easily.

His hand tangles in my hair, forcing my head back as he unscrews the bottle.

“Baron, I swear. I don’t know!” I grip his hand, trembling and crying.

Baron’s eyes narrow and he tips my head back.

“I don’t believe you.”

He empties the contents of the poison into my throat and it goes down with a sharp burn.

“NO!” Castor’s voice echoes, shaking the walls of the concrete as he slams into Baron, knocking both of them to the ground.

I cough and choke. The liquid sears my throat and I try to spit and cough it up but nothing comes up. A familiar scent fills my senses, only adding to the panic as Castor lays into Baron.

It’s not until the taste settles on my tongue that I recognize it.

Liquor.

He used the wrong vial.

My breaths steady and calm long enough for me to take in the scene as Baron flips Castor over and rams his fast into Castor’s throat.

He flips Castor over and slams his head into the concrete and pulls out his knife.

My heart drops.

“You should’ve learned your fucking place.”

“No!” A surge of energy fills me, and with all my strength, I lunge at Baron, slamming my body into him.

The knife clatters as Baron is knocked to the ground. He looks around wildly, his brows pushed together in aggravation and confusion.

I didn’t wait for him to figure out what had happened. I race for the knife, my bare feet pounding against the concrete.

Baron is on me in seconds.

“I don’t think so!” He rams his shoulder into my side, throwing me back against the wall.

I slide across the floor, the concrete burning into my skin. I cough and look up as Castor gathers himself, clutching his shoulder that’s bleeding.

“Castor, run!” I scream.

Baron turns back to Castor just as he gets to his feet and slashes at him with the knife. Castor backs up, barely missing the swing but Baron’s hand flies up, grabbing the streak of hair and throwing his face against the door.

Castor falls, groaning softly.

“No…” My eyes lock in on the knife as Baron raises it above his head. “No! Leave him alone!” My energy is draining steadily and with the last of it, I throw myself from the wall, driving my foot into Baron’s knee.

His legs buckle and he falls. I climb on him, hitting him over and over and over again. I don’t realize that I’m crying until Castor’s voice pulls me out of my stupor. Baron’s face is bloodied and bruised, even with my waning energy, it was enough to sport a cut above his eye, matching the identical scar above the opposite.

“Helena…” Castor mumbles.

I turn back to him, my arms dragging the rest of me over where Castor is propped against the door.

“Castor?” I shake him gently. My energy is gone and I nearly collapse from the effort of holding myself up.

His eyes open and he leans down to me. His hand encases mine, caressing it with his thumb.

“Are you okay?” He labors.

I nod, my lip trembling.

Baron groans and I tug at his hand.

“Get out of here, Castor. Go get help.”

He shakes his head and his hand reaches into his jacket. His head droops, his eyes fluttering closed before he forces himself awake.

I try to pull him to the door, but he stops me.

He pulls his hand out, revealing another loaf of bread.

He gives me a weak smile.

“Take it.”

I tug at his arm again, more desperate as Baron climbs to his feet. “Come on, Castor. Help me.”

“Take it,” he coughs. “Please.”

I take the food, taking a single bite before gripping his arm again and dragging him to the door.

Baron appears behind me before we can make it, and he strikes his gun over my head, forcing me to the floor.

I drift, my consciousness descending just for a moment before coming back as Baron hauls Castor to his feet and shoving him out the door.

He turns to me, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. Blood mixes with his hair, sticking the black strands to his forehead.

“Is that what this is? You like him?” He drives his boot into my side, and a crack reverberates throughout my body.

“He was my friend first!” He kicks me again and again, screaming those words. “He was my friend. Mine! And you fucked with his head!”

“No,” I sob, clutching my side in pain. “Take me instead.”

Baron huffs, his silver eyes wide and his body trembling with restraint.

He smiles psychotically.

“I’ll have you both when I have the information I need. We’ll see if you’ll stay tight lipped after I talk with him.”

“No! Castor!” I drag myself to the door, but Baron slams it shut as Castor watches me with a look of dread. I fumble with the knob but the door is sealed, and I’m left alone.

“Castor!” I claw at the door, banging and pounding and crying until my throat is raw. I stare at the bread that he gave me. It’s still warm, crushed under my hand.

A sob escapes my lips, the tears landing on the bread.

Castor tried to help me. He wanted me to escape. I told him no. I wouldn’t let him and now he could die. The only person in here that actually cared about me.

I throw the bread across the room as a scream rips through me.

KILL ME!

Why has he kept me alive? Why is he tormenting me by killing everyone I love? Sara, Bane, Castor. Why can’t he kill me instead?

I clutch my hair, grabbing and pulling as my screams repeat back at me like mockery, and I cry. I just cry.

Please kill me…