Not an Object, Not a Weapon

Chapter 5: Uh, what?

Authors note: for later in the chapter... left is Edyta and right is Chastity

Master's footsteps grow louder until they stop in front of my cage. Thank goodness I was only in here one night. This place stinks, literally it smells like dried blood and most likely rotting flesh. "Did you learn your lesson?" I nod my head immediately, I figured he was going to ask this so I knew I had to be prepared. "I'm glad but you are still staying here another night. Just be thankful your punishment isn't worse, if anyone else tried to pull off that stunt that you did they would have been decapitated." Well, that's a lovely image. Good thing I'm special... I think. "I'll send someone down with your food." He then walks away, and I slump against the wall crying internally. I really wanted to give my nose a rest.

I tap my hands repeatedly on my thighs to make some sort of nose to try to pass the time, but sadly time just seems to be frozen down here. There is a tiny window on the ceiling only illuminating the prison a little. "Hey," a male voice says as they approach my cage. My eyes brighten when I see Boston standing in front of me with a full plate of food, "I figured you wouldn't want prison food so i was able to sneak a plate out of the cafeteria. So if anyone asks, your food was horrible." We both have a laugh at that.

"Thank you," I tell him honestly. He is so good to me and I have no idea why. He was the one, although forced, to come up to me when I had the sword in my hand and he was he one who gently carried me down here. He seems to be the only one who cares if I am okay. "And," I say looking up at him, my words are almost lost in his green eyes, although my words are already lost, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Laughter dances in his eyes.

"Um," I scratch my arm, I don't really want to recall the emotion I felt yesterday but I need to give the guy a proper apology, "sword, it was," ugh damnit, can I not get this sentence out? "Point at you." A little yelp escapes my lips which surprises him but he recovers quickly.

"You've been through a lot it seems like, and I know that even though it was pointed at me, it wasn't really meant for me." I giggle softly at that, because that's an accurate statement, but it still happened and it shouldn't have.

"No excuse." I say but I lay back down feeling nauseous and sick. Great, so much for talking to the guy.

"Hey, I have a flashlight, maybe you could write your words in the sand and I'll shine the light on it to read? That way you don't have to deal with your frustration."

Thank you, I write, you have no idea how annoying it is to want to say a thousand words and get pains after two.

"You are a fighter, you know that?"

"Yeah I think i know that, spending the night in the cell kind of told me that."

"It's a good thing," he laughs, "I wish I had the guts to stand up for myself."

"I think it's what got me in trouble in the first place. I'm just desperate to know who I am that everything else is secondary, including sanity". Why am I writing this to all of him? Why does he get to know everything? Why is he special? I need to control this, control the need to talk to someone, control the need to open up.

"You are not insane," he chuckles and my heart flutters. I stare at him confused more than anything else. I'm trying to figure out why he is sitting with a girl who is behind bars in a dungeon.

"Why are you with me? You could be anywhere but instead you are here, sitting in the dark with a girl in a cage."

"First, this is not a cage, it's a jail cell. Second, you are interesting, and no not because you don't talk. Something about you is mysterious and intriguing. Also everyone upstairs is boring, it's the same thing, same news, same gossip everyday. I'm over it. Third, who else is going to keep an eye on you if I don't?"