Chapter 8

" F uck," I rasp, my mouth dry. I swallow and choke on nothing.

Cold seeps into my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My eyes flutter open, but all that greets me is a haze of confusion. My head throbs with a pulsing ache, and my breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts that only worsen my panic.

Where am I?

The question hangs heavy and unanswered. The space is tight. Suffocating. Four walls, glaringly bright, press in on me from all sides. It's as if they're closing in, a relentless grip on my barely-there sanity.

I try to steady my trembling hands, but they just won't stop shaking. My fingers brush against the soft walls, the texture foreign and unsettling.

This isn't right.

This isn't normal.

Everything's blurry, and I bend over, catching myself on my hands and knees as the room spins again. Everything is so bright, so painful, so blank .

It's blank.

Blank.

Why's it blank?

My stomach lurches, and I scramble sloppily to a corner. With my eyes squeezed shut, I ram my head right into the wall and groan. My fingers claw at the floor as I vomit up the meager contents of my stomach. Again and again, until nothing is left but acrid bile.

Once I'm sure I'm done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and crawl the short distance to the opposite wall. I drop onto my ass and lean my head against the wall. I breathe deeply, letting the room come back into focus.

A cell.

My head rolls side to side, finding the surface under me soft.

No. Not just a cell.

A padded room.

Solitary confinement.

What the hell happened?

I blink once, twice, my brows pinching. My eyes scan the room, and sure enough, the walls are padded, but they aren't white. Not really. Not anymore. They're yellowed and tinged with dirt and decay. I run my fingers over the ground, finding deep nail marks gouged into the floor, and my heart rate kicks up.

"No. No. Fuck no. "

Panic clings to me like a second skin, a relentless shadow, as I scramble to my feet. The world spins in a disorienting whirlpool, and I clutch at my head, trying to hold onto the fraying threads of reality. My shoulder hits a wall, and I stumble over my feet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

No more cells. No more prisons. No more cages.

I promised myself. I swore I'd never be held again, not like this.

Blackness dots the edges of my vision, and I try to shake it off, but I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

There's a growing sense of dread, an undeniable truth that wraps its icy fingers around my heart—I can't get out. Every surface, every inch of this cell is cushioned with madness, a cruel mockery of comfort. My fingers scrape across the padded walls as I beat my fists against them. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes burning against my will.

"Let me out! Please, someone, anyone! Let me out!" I shout, my words reverberating in the oppressive silence, bouncing off the walls like desperate echoes. I haven't begged since I was a child, but I'm begging now, already inherently knowing it's useless. " Please !"

But there's no response, no comforting voice, no soothing touch. I'm alone in another nightmare.

Memories surge forward without my permission like a torrential flood, threatening to drown me.

"No!" I shout, my voice cracking. I shake my head, panting, gasping desperately. "Never again," I choke out.

I hunch over, clawing at my throat, forcing my breaths to come, but they won't. With every second that passes, the familiar feeling of a panic attack forces me deeper into darkness.

Against my will, I start to see it all over. The fucked up time of my life, better known as my childhood, or lack thereof. I never got to be a kid, not really, only in brief, fleeting moments with a family that was chosen, not designed.

I remember being locked away in a small, dark room as a kid, the stifling confinement suffocating my very soul. The walls had seemed to close in on me then, too, crushing my spirit while my cries for salvation fell on deaf ears.

Again and again.

I cried. I screamed. I begged.

And just like now, no one came.

Until one day, they did. The two people who were supposed to love me above all else came and took me away. I'd been so fucking happy. I'd smiled at my dad. Clung to my mom.

And then…

Tears sting my eyes as I crumple to the padded floor, my breaths coming in ragged gasps of desperation. The room continues to spin, a maddening carousel of torment. I clutch at the memories, unable to escape their grip. The past and present blur together, the lines between reality and nightmare tangling into a chaotic mess of pain and heartache.

The cage.

Faces from my past loom before me, distorted and grotesque, their voices echoing with laughter and taunts. I curl into a ball, my eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the madness, the relentless assault on my sanity.

In this padded cell, trapped within the confines of my own mind, I get lost to the merciless cycle of reality and despair. The room closes in on me, and I'm adrift in a sea of torment, praying for release. For the elusive savior that never comes.

"Mama!" I cry, banging on my bedroom door. My hands and arms hurt, but I can't stop. I'm so cold, so hungry. I want to sleep, but the floor hurts, and the room is starting to smell bad. I claw at the wood. "Daddy! Please!"

No one comes.

No one ever comes.

I fall onto the floor and curl into a ball. My body shakes from crying, but no tears come, either. Maybe they're all gone.

Just like my parents.

I think I fell asleep because suddenly, my bedroom door is opening, and my mom is picking me up. Her hands are soft, but she's not. She's rough and squeezes me too hard. I don't care. I'm happy she's here. I'm happy she saved me.

"I'm so hungry," I cry, shaking in her arms. "Where have you been?"

"Shut up," she hisses, squeezing me tighter when I start to slip. I'm seven, and even though I'm small for my age, she is too. She's smaller now than she used to be. She looks older. Tired. Her voice is deeper and angrier.

She scares me.

I swallow back another sob as she turns away toward the hall. Over her shoulder, my eyes catch on my empty, dark room, and my heart hurts. I used to have things. I used to have a soft bed and toys and books. I used to have clean clothes, but now the only time I get to wear them is when I go see my friends.

It's been days, maybe longer, since I've seen them.

I blink, and then my room is gone, and my dad is yelling. Mom drops me, and I fall to my knees, crying out.

"He's too big for that shit," he snaps. "You're so fucking ridiculous, Mia!"

"Shut up—" Her mouth closes, and I see her eyes go big as she swallows. I bite my cheek, ignoring the pain as I climb to my feet and stand in front of Mom when he stomps over. His face is red, and somehow, he looks older, too.

He looks scary, too.

I love my dad in the way all kids love their parents, but mostly, mostly I think I hate him.

Because Mama is mean and scary, but my dad hurts .

He stops in front of me, and his eyes narrow. Slowly, his lips lift in a cruel smirk. They flick between me and Mom. I'm so small in front of him, and the longer we stand here, the more tired I become. I can't remember the last time I ate. Still, I don't cower. My arms cross over my chest, and he laughs.

"Gonna protect that bitch, huh?" He smiles.

I step forward, and I think I hear Mama laugh, too, but that doesn't make any sense. "You're not going to hurt my mother anymore."

Then, she does laugh.

It's loud and confuses me. My arms fall, and I turn to look back at her. Her long blonde hair isn't blonde anymore. It's grey and dingy with grease streaked throughout. Her clothes used to be perfect…always perfect, but now they're old and dirty. She's dirty.

She doesn't even smell like my mother anymore.

"Oh, you think you can protect me?" she huffs, rolling her eyes before glancing at my father over my head. Her face changes into something I haven't seen before—not from her. "Show him, Lucas."

I never even see his fist coming.

When he finally stops, Mama scoops me off the floor again, and I think, just for a moment, that maybe she's sorry. Maybe she's going to take care of me. Maybe she's going to make the pain go away.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she carries me to a big closet. Dad opens the door, and metal clangs, making my stomach twist.

"Wh-what is that?"

No one answers as she shoves me into something that's hard against my skin my bones, and slams the metal door shut.

With tears in my eyes, I wrap my tiny fingers around the bars and cry out. My gaze stays locked on their cold ones until the closet door slowly slides shut.

Leaving me alone.

Again.

In the dark.

In a cage.