Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (19 page)

             
The top of my hole is constantly bathed in a warm glow while he’s here. Out of sight but almost withi
n reach. How I wish that light c
ould sink a little farther down. I don’t know if it’s from starvation, dehydration or what, but these past few days I’ve been seeing things. Even though it’s pitch black, I awake in a fright, sure there’s something moving around the hole with me. My poor heart can’t take any more scares right now; it’s already so weak.

             
I’m surprised Jack’s done nothing to coerce me into thinking I belong here, like Finley demanded. He doesn’t starve me, deprive me of water, yell at me, hit me
or even threaten me. Nothing.
I haven’t even seen him since that first day. Not that I’m complaining
or anything
, but I worry what Finley will do if he ever finds out my body is slowly healing itself.

“What are you doing up here?” Finley yells from up top, snapping me awake as his voice rumbles down my hole. “Why aren’t you down there? Do I need to find a faerie-sitter for you too?”

             
“What? I’m taking a break,” Jack replies, not a hint of guilt in his voice.  “I’m not going to beat on her twenty-four seven. Eventually she passes out, you know?”

             
Finley huffs. My body cringes as he descends, and right up behind him…
two
spriggans!

             
Oh, this isn’t good.

             
My heart sputters to life, beating erratically until it figures out a rhythm it can keep up with. I desperately try to stiffen my arms to hide the uncontrollable trembles that are painfully obvious right now.
I can’t let him see I’m scared!
As much as I would like to force myself to stand up and meet him, I just can’t do it. I’ve eaten as well as I can expect for the past couple of days, but it’s not enough to reverse the damage already inflicted upon my body. I get dizzy merely stand
ing
in place.
             

             
“Sixty-eight. My not-so-favorite pixie. How’s our progress going?”

             
I think the question is for Jack, who’s pressed against the back wall behind the two monstrous beasts. There’s just not enough room in this sorry excuse for a hole.

             
“Jack!” he snaps.

             
Jack pushes his way between the spriggans. “Oh. Uh, just ask her and see.”

             
Lovely. I know I’m on my own, but he could have at least said he’d beaten me senseless multiple times and made me cry. Anything but
uh.
At least there’s no physical evidence he’s been feeding me. If my ribs are any indication, I’m sure my body appears more emaciated than ever.

             
“Well?” he
asks
in a taunting manner. I stare lifelessly at him for several seconds. When I don’t respond, he snaps his fingers before my eyes, convinced I’m in a trance.

             
Physically, I’m too tired to even blink a response. My defiance, however, is stronger than ever
and doesn’t know when to just shut up and play dead
. “If you have a question, ask. But I’m only going to
respond to my name from now on,
which is Rosalie.”

             
Finley huffs in exasperation and turns to give Jack a fierce glare. When he spins his body, his foot uproots and takes a new position…right on the spot where I defecated yesterday. The sole on his shoe squeaks, but it’s not until the laughter rising from my chest becomes loud that he looks to his feet. He probably thought it was just water at first, but the brownish color will change his mind.

             
I bury my head in my knees
,
so I don’t get to see his reaction, but I do hear him gasp. I was never given anything to go in so they had to know to watch their step, but there was no way this wouldn’t turn out to be my fault.

             
Finley is beyond ticked. He yells, “Break her wings!”

             
I gasp
,
but before I can even lift my head in reaction, two sets of hands are invading my body, maneuvering me into a position on my knees I have no chance of escaping.

             
Finley cracks his knuckles.
“Let’s go for the full sixty-eight breaks this time. We’ll see how long you’re laughing then.”

             
I hang my head low, refusing to let him see my face, because fear has me clinching my neck and facial muscles as
tightly
as I can.  The first snap comes from the tip of my upper right wing. I cry
out
,
but
it’s not as bad as I expect.

             
“One,” Finley says dryly.

             
The second comes from the opposite spot
, and my teeth cut into my bottom lip
. Again, it hurts, but not as bad as breaking the base of my wings.

             
“Two.”

             
The third goes a little a deeper and tears well up behind my eyes, stinging harshly. By the fourth
,
I can’t contain them and tears flood my face. What water I put into my body these past two days is coming back out. My chest heaves and I finally scream on the fifth break, when they close
in on the spots already damaged.
By nine I’m squirming as hard as I can but with two monstrous beasts atop me, it’s hopeless. By twelve I’m begging, “Please. Please stop.” I’m ashamed these words pass my lips, even more when it makes Finley laugh wickedly loud.

             
I feel like a massive bee hive has attacked my back, stinging madly, deep enough to pierce my spine in every spot possible. A fiery rage inflames my
vertebrae
, licking the nerves that carry out to my body, spreading the burn even farther. The strength of my structural support collapses and my body goes limp in their arms; but still, they continue to break bits and pieces of my delicate wings. 

             
The last thing I hear is Finley
singing, “Twelve.”

I’m running through a forest of luscious greens and browns, cheerfully giggling as my pursuer tries catching me. I hear her call my name, waiting for me to give away my location, but she’ll never hear the pads of my feet over the joyous sounds of nature overflowing the trees. I jump through the air, grasping vines that swing me farther than my little legs can run.

             
“Rosalie,” Poppy calls out in song. I’m still way ahead, zipping and turning random directions off the beaten paths. Here the moss grows wild on the ground, making it more slippery and difficult to grip the soles of my mud-covered feet; but still I run, giddy and laughing as Poppy gives chase. The wind lifts me off my feet and carries me several feet before I make impact again, and then I continue on my way. My loose hair whips freely and my reddish streaks shimmer each time I cross a stray sunbeam.

             
I come across a babbling brook, with water splashing playfully amongst the rocks, sprinkling me as I jump from one rock to another to cross it.

             
Weird – the water isn’t cool and refreshing like I expect. Paying no mind, I burst through the wall of vines hanging in my way. It slows my playful run, snagging and pulling on my arms and legs. My skin begins to singe where they touch and I panic. The more I struggle to free myself, the more the vines snap and tighten their grip, burning and twisting my skin.

             
I scream and tears burst through my eyes. Poppy appears at the brook behind me, but she won’t cross over to help me. She just stands there with her hands cupping her mouth, shaking her head back and forth, mumbling what I think is my name over and over again. I beg her to help me, the aggressive vines pulling me farther into their grasps. The tendrils wrap around my wings and burn the intricate web of veins the magic runs through, the pain too much to bear. I whimper as they close completely around me, suffocating me
with
darkness.

             
I awake by the brook, my limbs mangled as if the vines just tossed me away once through with their torture. Pieces of me still sting, but most of the pain has reduced to numbness. Poppy sits beside me, her hands covered with the mud she’s spreading over my wounds, cooling the inflammation that burns my skin.

             
“Drink the water, Rosalie,” she says softly. “You need it.”

             
I want to do what she asks, knowing she’s right, but my limbs refuse to budge, buried deep in the mud she’s covering me with. I moan in protest, and by some miracle of Mother Nature, the water jumps magically from the brook and lands gently in my mouth. This time, the brook’s miracle elixir is cool and soothing as it paints the linings of my mouth and throat. I sigh in sweet release and let Poppy soothe me to sleep with each gentle stroke.

             
When I awake the next time, Poppy greets me with a smile. “There. Now that’s better, isn’t it?”

             
I smile and stretch my limbs, feeling only the numbness where I knew I once hurt. “Thank you, Poppy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

             
She shrugs. “Burn to death in fiery pain, I guess.”

             
I do a double-take in her direction; it was an odd thing for Poppy to say, but I let it slide. I rise awkwardly to my feet,
reaching for the nearest tree to support my balance. Standing is making me dizzy, which immediately makes me nauseous. “Let’s go home, Poppy. I don’t feel so well.”

             
“What do you mean?” she asks, looking at me in confusion. “We are home.”

             
“What? No we’re not. Come on, I don’t want to play anymore. I just want to fly home.”

             
“Fly home? You can’t fly silly. You haven’t got any wings.”

             
Instinctively, I try fluttering my wings, readying my eyes for the biggest eye roll ever. But nothing flutters. Just as I reach around to check the base of my wings, I catch my own reflection in the brook.

             
I gasp in utter horror.
My wings are gone!