The room they’re keeping me in is small and barren, with cream-colored walls and a narrow bed and a single window that offers little to nothing in terms of a view.
There’s a bathroom attached, barely bigger than a closet, and a chair in the corner that’s uncomfortable and collects dust.
I guess it’s still nicer than the cages. But a gilded prison is still a prison.
I’ve been here for about a week now. Seven days of staring at the same four walls, eating the same tasteless gruel they serve three times a day, and replaying every mistake I’ve ever made on an endless loop inside my head.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
I did what Fedorov asked. I spied on the Callahans and fed him intel, betraying the people who took me in and treated me like family.
All because he promised me Eva. I foolishly believed him when he said he’d let her go if I did this one thing for him.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
Now I’m back in his clutches, and Eva is... I don’t even know where Eva is anymore. They won’t answer any of my questions; they won’t do the bare minimum and tell me if she’s still at the estate at all or if something else has happened to her.
The icy blond guard who brings my meals seems to take particular joy in my suffering, smirking every time I ask about my sister and then walking out without a word.
I’m starting to think she isn’t here at all. That maybe she hasn’t been here for a long time. I really have been played for a fool, and this was nothing but a cruel joke to begin with.
Fedorov knew once I escaped the cages the only way to rein me back in was to use my baby sister against me.
As for Killian...
I squeeze my eyes shut as his face flashes through my mind, unbidden. It’s ridiculous and repetitive at this point, yet I can’t help myself.
I keep imagining the last few moments between us and agonizing over how we’d gone from content and close to the coldest strangers imaginable in only a matter of minutes.
All of it my fault. All of it my doing.
Maybe the biggest mistake of my life.
I don’t know how I ever let myself believe I could make it okay. That I could be in contact with Fedorov like I was and still convince Killian I wasn’t a traitor.
He was the one I wanted to be with. His side was the side I wasreallyon.
But Fedorov had Eva, and so I had to do the things I did.
It made sense in my head at the time, even if it sounds crazy now.
Thoughts of him bring an instant ache to my chest. It’s anindescribable pain in my heart that’s somehow different from the one I already feel missing Eva. Yet just as intense. Equally as deep and paralyzing…
Sometimes, I focus only on the good times. I have to in order to keep myself sane.
I remember our Sundays at the grocery store and the flirting we did at the Banshee and that last afternoon together riding coaster after coaster at Coney Island.
If you gave me the opportunity, I’d relive those days a thousand times over. Those were the happiest days I’ve ever known, and I threw them all away.
Warm tears slip down my cheeks as I curl up on the bed, hugging the flimsy pillow close. I don’t bother wiping them away. There’s no one here to see, and I’ve cried so much this past week it barely even registers anymore.
His championship fight against Sharapova must be coming up soon. He’s been training the entire summer for it, what will be a major career milestone as a professional boxer.
I hope he wins. I’ll be thinking about him every moment, even if I won’t be able to be there by his side.
No matter what happens to me, I’ll never forget him. I’ll think about Killian Rourke until the day I die.
However soon that might be…
