Beloved Evil

FOURTEEN

The smell of death filled Tara's nose as she closed the wooden door, even the smallest ray of sunlight disappearing behind it. She could already hear the screams, the desperate cries that slammed against the wet walls, echoing around her like a thousand ghosts.

What she hadn't known the last time she had been down there was, that the people in the cells already knew their faith. She now knew that they had seen everything in limbo. She knew that they either cried because they had seen what they had done, or because they knew what was to come. She couldn't help but feel sympathy towards them. What if someone down there was like her? What if someone didn't deserve to be there?

She began descending the staircase that was only illuminated by the weak torches on the walls, showing off the slippery stone steps beneath her feet. She stepped carefully, scared that she would slip and fall.

She had only passed a few demons on her way there and none of them had questioned her. Her uniform was a permission slip to basically go everywhere in the castle. She would have to ask Finley is she could keep it for future use.

As she stood at the end of the staircase, Tara realized that she had no idea what cell Bartholomew was in. She remembered that it was towards the back of the corridor, so she decided to walk a little further before starting to look inside the cells.

The people inside the cells didn't notice her. They were too occupied by their grief to focus on anything else. Tara tried to focus on the sound of the small droplets hitting the ground around her, or the sound of her own breathing, but it was hard to block out the sounds of the people, the sounds of desperation, the sounds of death. So she decided to begin looking for Bartholomew, even though she hadn't walked that far. She might as well.

The people inside the cells looked just as rough as they had done on her own first day there. Bloodied, bruised, burned. Some had nothing but a single hole between their brows or a faint handprint around their necks. Some was throwing themselves against the bars, some curled up in a corner, faces buried between their shaking hands.

Tara tried to recall what Bartholomew looked like. She remembered his long, grey hair. It had been greasy, the thick strands clinging to each other. He had been covered in bruises and cuts, a full beard covering the lower half of his face. But what she remembered most was his eyes. It seemed so long ago she had seen such kind eyes. Finley was kind, yes, but her eyes weren't comforting like Bartholomew's were. His eyes were like Nettie's, like her mother's when she had been a child.

But no matter how many cells Tara looked inside of, the man with the kind eyes was nowhere to be found.

The corridor hadn't ended yet, but she was starting to get an unsettling feeling in her gut. She was almost certain she had walked past the cells they had been in by now, but still hadn't seen him anywhere.

She continued, making sure that he wasn't sitting curled up in any of the cells she passed. But soon enough, the corridor came to an end.

"No..."

Her voice drowned in the waves of screams around her, but at that moment, she didn't pay them any attention. She took a deep breath, trying to get the negative thoughts out of her mind and then walked back down the corridor, looking inside of every cell once again, even the ones at the very beginning. And when she had done that, she did it again.

He had to be there...

With every step she took, the small hope that had been growing inside of her died. It withered away like a forgotten flower, burned out like a cigarette left in the ashtray, until there was nothing left but grey, wrinkled leaves and dust.