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My lack of health folded in on itself and I spent the past few months in a fugue of antibiotics, painkillers, dreams, nightmares, and misery. The fever had wracked me to the point of becoming skeletal again, and I had nothing left.
Nothing.
My memories of Neri were tainted with blood.
My recollections of happiness and being in love were completely swamped by grief.
I was heavy inside. Endlessly fucking heavy and full of sadness I couldn’t swim out of.
I was down on the ocean floor.
Smothered by salt, gagging on brine.
My ears rang as the guards finished securing my thighs to the chair.
My first day back and my heart didn’t kick, didn’t flinch, didn’t climb above the erratic beat it now called normal.
I had nothing left to give.
I’m done.
Patting my cheek, Cem said quietly, “She still believes you’re alive.”
I’m not alive.
I’m dead.
The breath in my lungs is rancid.
The thoughts in my head are rotten.
Forget me, Neri.
There’s nothing left anymore.
I didn’t respond, and Cem clucked his tongue. “I thought you’d be a bit more lively after a few months of lying around all day. You’re healed. The doctor gave you a clean bill of health.” He ran his fingertips over my newly healed bright-red scar. “Even your arm is neat and tidy. You’d never even know anything used to exist there.”
The smallest urge to shout back. To scream in his face. To spit on his shoes.
But then the urge was gone, sinking into the oily, festering pit inside me.
Ducking to his haunches, Cem looked up at me.
I stared blankly into him, not focusing, not caring.
“Aslan...” He winced and cupped my cheek. “Rally round, son. It’s okay. You’re doing so well. One more day and that’s it. I promise. One more day and then you and I will leave this place forever. You will never have to come back down here. I’ll take you to the hammam (Turkish baths) where you’ll be pampered and massaged for hours. I’ll order all your favourite foods. I’ll dress you in all the finest clothes. You will be free, Aslan.”
I looked away.
I had nothing to say.
Silence thickened.
Slowly, Cem stood and nodded at the guard operating the machine.
I didn’t move as the electrodes were hooked up to my shoulder sockets—one of the few places that didn’t have scars from previous shocks.
Stepping away so he wouldn’t run the risk of being electrocuted by touching me, Cem ordered, “Moderate power. Five seconds.”
