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Another cramp hits me hard, causing me to close my eyes in pain. “I’ll be fine though,” I grunt, swallowing hard. “Did you need something?”
“Why do you keep asking if everyone else needs something when you’re in fucking pain?” Andrya snarls.
“I’m in the equivalent of a prison camp,” I laugh. “My needs, wants, and feelings don’t mean shit here. I’ll go see Patricia soon for sanitary pads, I’m really fine.”
“You’re not, though. I don’t think the Warden has ever looked as confused as I just saw him outside of your room. I know I’m the last person who should be in here asking how I can help you, but I’m still here,” Andrya huffs.
My hand pressed on my stomach, I sigh. “One of the men of the Queen’s Mission reminded me last night that my step-sister is keeping tabs on me. My crimes are a joke, and there’s no evidence showing I committed them. Isaac’s been looking into it. Last night made me realize that due to a petty woman with too much time and power on her hands, my life is over. I’m at the mercy of people who dance to her orders,” I explain. “And so I’m having a Godsdamn day at the moment. It’ll pass.”
I promised myself I’d be nice, but I’m still being a bitch. I just info-dumped on Andrya, and I don’t know how to take the words back. All I can hear are the Warden and Holton’s voices in my head, and it’s making me hyper fixate on how fucked my life is.
“I’ll be back,” Andrya says, leaving the room.
I don’t respond, because talking to an empty space is the last thing I need to be doing. My eyes slide closed as I attempt to breathe through the climbing pain. My mother locked me up after beating me with a broomstick often enough that bumps, bruises, and constant pain became a fact of life.
She always made sure I never scarred, and sent out the house staff on days of intense punishment. I think they were so glad for the time spent away on errands that they never asked why.
It became known that Silla Tremaine suffered from intense headaches, so she wasn’t to be disturbed. This was to make sure no one would check on me when I was inside the hidden space in my closet, the door locked tightly against my panicked screams. It also ensured that my pained movements weren’t noticed. My head didn’t hurt, my body did from being beaten.
People tend to look the other way if they’re paid enough money, after all.
My meditative breaths and trip down memory lane help me ignore the pain, and I startle when Andrya opens the door.
“I have sanitary pads, pain medication Patricia gave me, a hot water bottle, and a few other things. I asked Ayden to bring hot tea, too,” she says softly.
Her arms are piled full of things, and I burst into tears. I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I wail, and her jaw drops. “I’m sorry, I’m just a mess. Thank you for this.”
“Silla, Honey. This is nothing, really. Gods, am I really such a twat that you’re surprised I would want you to be comfortable?” Andrya asks, pulling a bottle of water from the things in her arms.
Filling the glass for me with water, she hands me the painkillers for my cramps. I don’t mention that they don’t usually work, instead swallowing them down with the water.
“I’ve always had awful cramps,” I explain away, wincing as another wave hits me. “It’s just worse when I’m stressed and not sleeping.”
“I saw the Queen’s Mission was here,” Andrya says softly. “I don’t really understand why though, and your dynamic with the Queen confuses me.”
“Nothing to be confused about,” I whimper. Fuck, the lack of sleep is also hurting my head. A migraine and cramps are going to make today shit. The Warden will have to drag me out of this dark room kicking and screaming, because it’s not happening otherwise. “The bitch hates me. Some days I think I deserve it.”
A knock interrupts me, and I stuff my head into the pillows. I need to get to the bathroom, but the lights in the hallway are going to hurt.
“Come in,” Andrya says softly.
The room is flooded with light and even though my eyes are closed, a strangled scream leaves my mouth before I can choke it back.
“Turn off the light!” she yells, and Ayden yelps as he does.
“What the hell is going on?” he hisses, closing the door. “Kitten? Why are you in bed?”
“Don’t feel good,” I mumble, panting at the lights exploding behind my eyes. I feel super nauseous now, groaning at the thought of puking.
“I have tea here, but something tells me you may need something stronger. Class is in an hour, but don’t come if your head hurts,” Ayden says.
Wrapping the water bottle in a towel, Andrya presses it against my stomach.
“Won’t the Warden come stomping over like the grumpy ass that he is?” I mutter, biting my lip against the barrage of fairly mean things that are threatening to come out of my mouth. “Ayden, you have to go. My filter is pretty much nonexistent right now.”
“But you’re so cute when you talk like this. The Warden is very grumpy, are you responsible for that, Kitten?” he asks, amused. “Wait, are you saying I can’t be trusted?” Ayden sounds scandalized.
