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His face crinkles with disbelief. Quickly, it’s replaced by a sort of mean-spirited amusement. He steps forward, laughing.
“You prayed to the gods for help?” He repeats. His tone is a mixture of derision and humor. “And you think they answered you?”
“Of course, they did,” I reply. To prove it, I lift the bundle of chains in my arms. It’s ample evidence to me, and I can’t understand his mocking. How can he deny what is right before him?
He laughs again. As it trails off, his face contorts into a sneer. He takes another step closer, drawing himself up menacingly. His purple eyes seem to shoot sparks down at me, and he exudes a pure, unbridled hate that makes me recoil from him.
“The gods aren’t real, you stupid human,” he scoffs. “It’s just you and me here.”
The last words sound like a threat.
97
ANASTASIA
My limbs begin to tremble at his words. It’s an unusual reaction for me, as I rarely give in to fear. Though I am scared, I think my current state is exacerbated by the heavy chains that I currently toil under. My muscles are pushed to their limits, and the cracks are starting to show.
What I know I’m not reacting to is his claim that there are no gods. I don’t believe that for a moment, and his words do not inspire any breach of faith. The gods are real, and The Mother is looking after me.
He jumps on my reaction, sensing an easy opportunity to pounce. There’s a predatory gleam in his eye as he sneers down at me. “Are you scared your gods have abandoned you here?” He jeers mockingly.
I will my body to stop shaking, trying to conceal it the best that I can. Then I draw myself up confidently. I’ll never be as tall as him, of course, but I do my best to look bigger than I feel.
“They haven’t,” I snap back. I eye the key that dangles from around his neck, glinting at me in plain sight. If I could just get that…
“I just told you; The Mother takes care of me. Perhaps it’s only you they’re ignoring.”
His eyes flash. “No one ignores me!” he roars. The anger in his voice makes me tremble again, just a little. I glare at him with a steely gaze, trying to look unconcerned. I will not cower for him.
He moves closer. It takes everything inside of me, but I do not move, refusing to flinch away. Belatedly, I realize that he’s not even after me at all. He’s simply storming away, angry, and I happen to be blocking the doorway.
I wheel around, trying to chase him down the hall. It’s not easy, carrying half my body weight in these chains. “Where are you going?” I shout, as he’s already quite a distance ahead of me.
“Away,” he retorts.
I’m already panting and breathless, and I know that I can not catch him like this. I just need that key from around his neck! If only he would stop running away from me!
The chains are broken, so it’s not like he’s going to put them back on me. I know that I can’t depend on kindness from him, but it seems that whatever he thinks of next will at least be better than this. I should have snatched the key when I had the chance, but I didn’t expect him to take off like this.
I can feel my frustration build, as he gets farther and farther away. I hate this feeling of helplessness, as though everything is out of my control. The fact that I can’t make him stop only goads me further.
“You don’t have to go looking for the gods,” I challenge him. “They’re everywhere.”
He snorts, still walking away. “They’re nowhere.”
“Maybe you’re just scared of them. You hide away and deny their existence because you fear that they are stronger than you. You are a coward.”
Too late, it’s clear that I pushed the wrong button. I wanted a reaction, I wanted to make him at least stop and acknowledge me. But I have unleashed something I did not expect with my words. I have stepped in it now, and he is livid.
He freezes in place, and his body goes completely still. Then he wheels abruptly, facing me head on. His face is pinched, a thick expression of pure wrath across it.
He charges for me, scooping up both me and my chains as if we are nothing. Pushing me up against the wall, he presses his face down to mine until we are nose to nose.
His piercing purple eyes glow with a savage rage as he challenges me. “Call me a coward again.” The implied threat in his voice makes it clear that I should do anything but if I value my well-being.
Not knowing what to do, I chew on my bottom lip uncertainly. My mind searches for a solution. I don’t want to cave, completely, and yet this is obviously not ideal. I’m too strong to beg him for forgiveness, but perhaps there’s a way to step around whatever hole I have accidentally dug.
Mentally, I chastise myself for landing in this mess at all. There’s a line between acting afraid and inviting trouble, and I have done the latter. Why do I never learn to just keep my head down and avoid bringing unnecessary problems upon myself?
