{Cinder}
So much noise. But 324—or was she Bethany?—324 learned to sleep in a world of screams and groans. This calamity was easy to block out. So much activity. One second they were at the Emporium. The next they were in some scary dark place with debris everywhere. And now, she sat on a palette in a black rock chamber they referred to as “the pit.”
It smelled funny. The scent of ash caked her tongue. Someone mucked up the air with the smell of bacon and eggs. The Nice Lady sat down a plate for 324, but food seemed too much to conquer at the moment.
Someone finally saved her. After an indeterminable amount of time in Hell, the Nice Lady who kept calling her Bethany saved her. Looking into her hazel eyes hurt, so 324 kept her gaze low. The Nice Man smiled at her now and then. It felt better.
The Nice Doctor said she was fine.
But everything felt wrong.
Where was today’s beating? The sugar? The scalding water? Whips? Knives?
Those were her life.
Not this noise. This warmth. The sad eyes. So very sad.
A man came to see her. His voice was familiar. Curly brown hair. Green eyes. Sad ones. He called her Bethany, too. He repeated the name until he went hoarse. Until he cried. Until he left.
324 didn’t mean to make him cry.
The surrounding commotion kept her silent. That and…
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She dug her nails into her wrist until they bled. Under a blanket where no one saw. She feared punishment. Not the pain of it. That was normal for her. 324 feared their raw disappointment. Couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t—
“No. That won’t do.”
The white-haired man. He came around less than the others, but he always looked at her with white eyes that pierced her daze. Gently, he reached for her. To stop her. No!
324 clasped his wrist and—
“When you’re finished with the Lamia, the drone in cell eight paid for you. Ten and eleven, too. It’ll be a long night.”
So many. That Lamia liked to draw the breath from Korac, and drones were the worst. They sweat the most on him. “Warden?”
The red-feathered woman thumped his head and reminded him, “Executive Warden.”
He swallowed his shame and anger before trying again. “Executive Warden. Please. I serviced six cells last night. And seven the night before. I need rest—”
Triss clicked her tongue. “Do you want to go outside tomorrow?”
“You promised I would go outside today.” The snow meant the worlds to him. Though he only saw it once per month in the winter, and not at all in the summer.
Hands on hips in irritation, her yellow eyes flared. “Just because you can move through these cells without my supervision does not mean I neglect to monitor you. You snuck out last night.”
He flinched.
“That goes against our accord, so I have every right to expect you to fulfill tonight’s obligations without your reward. But I am generous. Complete tonight’s orders, and I will let you outside tomorrow. Although there is no need. You already surpassed the height of the other children your age.”
The snow marked his only freedom, and Korac found its cold comfort precious in his misery. One day. One day he would live somewhere with sunlight and frost. No more pain. No more humiliation. Him. The snow. And the sun.
No more pain. No more humiliation. Her. The rain. And the stars.
324 gazed at the white-haired man still in her grip.
He met her eyes with his own slightly tightened. What a painful memory. The fear and the shame.
A tear fell on his sharp cheekbone. She reached out and brushed it away. Cautiously, he reached out and did the same.
Quietly, he confided, “We’ve both had a long day.”
Yes. Two years’ worth of a long day, and this man understood her.