VIOLENT DELIGHTS¹ ━━ John Murphy

𝖛. Stuck With U

𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖈𝖐 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖚

GlASS WAKES UP in chains.

Hands shaking, heart racing, head fuzzy. Rope digs into her skin. Everything is dark and damp and cold; it takes Glass a long moment to pull herself together. An even longer moment to try to sort through her memories, trying to connect thoughts as wild and far apart as the stars -

"Come here often?"

Murphy.

Blinking groggily, when Glass squints, she can just make him out a couple of feet away from her. She goes to stand up, only for the thick rope to jerk her backwards, anchoring her to rock. They're in a cave. Not the one from earlier. The ground is smoother here; it's commonly used. And when Glass looks at the ground carefully, there's dried blood.

"Yeah, you're a little tied up," says Murphy, as if he can read her mind. "We both are. Those skeleton freaks put us in here."

Skeleton freaks. Glass's assuming he means Trikru warriors in skull masks.

Glass looks around the cave again and thinks Ew. Of course, she's not particularly worried. It's not as if she's going to die or anything. Not by the hands of Trikru, anyway. . . well. Maybe out of boredom. Honestly? Glass's more unimpressed than anything - they can't seriously think they can do anything to hurt her, do they? She cannot believe a bunch of fucking cavemen think making her their prisoner is going to intimidate her. . .

"They don't seem to be a big fan of you," Murphy says.

Glass wonders what gave it away. "Trikru wouldn't be."

"Trikru?" He echoes, his eyebrows raising. "Oh, isn't that great? Here I was all worried that everything was going to be fine."

She rolls her eyes. "Relax. They can't do anything to hurt me."

"Really? Because last time I checked, getting knocked unconscious hurts."

"I hit harder."

"And what about me, huh? They can hurt me, can't they?" Murphy half-demands, sitting up just enough to glare at Glass. She doesn't answer and he groans in frustration. "Y'know, I'm getting tired of not knowing what the hell is going on."

Her head hurts too much for a good comeback, so she just says, "Shut up."

"You've lost your license to kill, princess," he says, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "I don't have to listen to your orders anymore."

"Stop calling me princess!"

"You want to give me a name?"

Not really, she thinks. Out loud, she says, "Glass. Happy?"

"Yes," he says and she rolls her eyes. A heartbeat passes and then Murphy, softly and dragging each syllable out, echoes, "Glass."

Yes, that's what I just said, Glass wants to say in a snarky tone, but she can't seem to make herself.

"Doesn't sound like a very Grounder name," he says, more to himself than her. "I was expecting something like Blade." Then he snickers quietly, before he goes, "Glass is so... delicate."

Glass might look delicate, but it is as sharp as the jagged edges of a broken mirror. It is like a knife.

Murphy, apparently, is an idiot.

There's a scuffling noise outside of their cave, followed by gruff voices too far away for Glass to really make out. Despite herself, a little ball of anxiety unfurls in her stomach and Glass hates herself for it. A true warrior doesn't feel fear.