Page 94 of Heimlock

He tosses the belt onto the ground. I watch it fall, coiling like a sleeping snake. Is he not going to hit me with it? “Take your clothes off, Trinte.”

My eyes fly to his face. “W-w-what?”

“Take them off. Now.”

Pressing myself into the door, bones rattling with fear, I shake my head. “W-why?”

“Because I’m going to teach you exactly what you’re good for. Now take your clothes off, or I’ll do it for you.”

For the first time, but not the last, my mind disassociates. I watch it all happening from elsewhere, so the pain isn’t mine. It’s someone else’s. A nightmare from another person’s life. Not mine.

When it’s all over, I’m forced to dress myself, shaking with pain, terror, and shame. I slide my pants on like slipping on a mask. By the time my shirt is on and Father is in the shower, it’s all wiped away.

Stepping out of the room, my mind settles into a new reality. Ignoring the way my body throbs, I check ‌the food inside the oven. It’s blackened from being in too long. Enjoying the blistering of my fingers, I grab the pan and remove it. Placing it on the stove to cool down, I sit back down at the table. Mind blank, I finish the math problem.

When Fynn gets home, I smile. We go play video games, and this version of Trinte lives in a bubble where pain doesn’t exist.

Where an entire future wasn’t robbed within a single evening.

***

“Trinte!”

Hands. Hands are on me.

Snarling, I grab the offending wrist, ready to break it, but a pained gasp stills my body. Eyes bolting open, I see a living flame watching me with fear-wide eyes.

Letting go of Kyrielle, I scramble out of the makeshift bed until I slam into the empty bed frame. Hyperventilating, I take in her body, still on her belly. She’s crawled to me. I choke out a sob, full of shame. I should’ve never fallen asleep.

“Trinte, are you okay?”

The tears won’t stop coming now. It takes a couple of embarrassing attempts, but I’m finally able to pull myself to standing and rush to the bedroom door. My hands, slick with sweat, struggle to undo each lock. She says my name again, but I can’t look at her.

Talk to her.

Hear her.

When the last deadbolt is undone, I swing the door open and slam it shut. Desperate to put space between us.

Between me and the dream.

The memory.

“Trinte!” She screams my name, anguished.

I can’t look at her.

I can’t look at myself.

This apartment is too small.

It’s too fucking small.

Mindlessly driven by terror, I unlock the deadbolts on the front door. When I’m free from the apartment, I inhale the fresh air. Everything in me screams to leave, to run. To fly into the darkness, right into a mountainside. To become a desiccated corpse at the rocky base. Where the nightmares can’t follow me anymore.

But I can’t leave her.

My shame is already compounded by the fact that she’s probably worried sick and possibly hurting herself to find me.