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My muscles shiver uncontrollably. Each bone aches like it’s being pounded by sledgehammers, every nerve pulses painfully, and I can’t seem to get warm.
“She’s in shock,” Warrose says, pulling my hair out of my face.
“That’s probably a good thing. Ripping nails out is a form of torture for a reason,” Dessin replies.
Skylenna is suddenly at my feet, kneeling in front of me. “I’m so sorry we didn’t realize you were gone. I’m sorry we didn’t come for you.” She holds my hands in hers and squeezes. “You are family, Marilynn. One of us. We won’t leave you behind again.”
My heart swells in my chest. Family. One of us.
“Promise?”
Niles kisses me on the head.
“We promise.”
20. Legends Untold
Niles
“Fuck the Chandelier City, it hurts like a bitch!” Marilynn howls, gritting her teeth against the tears.
There isn’t much we can do. Dessin said that harming fingernails is a form of torture because they’re the source of so many nerve endings.
“Is that a phrase now? Fuck the Chandelier City?” Warrose smirks down at Marilynn. “Can we make multiple variations of that? Fuck the Emerald Lake Asylum. Fuck the Slaughter Circus. Fuck the Mazonist Brothers.”
“We can determine how much pain we’re in or how pissed off we are based on which noun we’re feeling,” I add, trying so hard to make Marilynn smile.
“Alright, fair. So, what’s the rating for each?”
I tap my chin, thinking. Failing not to look at Marilynn’s forehead wrinkling as she bears down against the pain.
“Chandelier City is mildly hurt or pissed. The Mazonist Brothers are tolerable but still painful. Slaughter Circus is ‘I’m about to explode’. Emerald Lake Asylum is an apocalypse.” Dessin sits across from us in a dark corner of the stadium seating
We’re huddled away from the other prisoners, sitting on the floor, tending to Marilynn. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this mad at myself. I didn’t notice she was gone, didn’t even look behind me to make sure she was still by my side. She’s just so quiet. But of course, that’s no excuse. We bantered here by the stage while she had her fingernails ripped out by that psychopath.
I still taste the blood of that bastard’s scalp in my mouth.
It’ll probably give me nightmares for years. I’m not like Skylenna or Dessin. My brain doesn’t protect itself that way. I scalped a man in front of my family and nearly blacked out. The only thing keeping me moving was the adrenaline, the image rotting in my brain of her bloody fingers.
It crushed me to hear her say that no one came looking for her. Because, if I’m being honest with myself, we would have noticed Skylenna’s absence immediately. Dessin would have found her before her nails were touched.
“Fuck the Slaughter Circus,” Marilynn clarifies her statement.
We all blow out a breath.
“We need something to dull the pain,” Skylenna says with a frown.
“Like this big bitch?”
I look straight up from my seated position to see Helga Bee and Gerta hovering over me, carrying a huge tin bottle.
“What is it?” Dessin asks.
“What is it, Beetle Brain asks?” Helga Bee elbows Gerta with a cocky chuckle.
Dessin sighs with lowered lids. Skylenna grins next to him.
“It’s Mother Nature’s cure to depression! It’s God’s apology for making life so shitty! It’s—”
