If Ryleigh had to describe the sensation of being silvered, she'd say it felt like all her blood vessels were simultaneously combusting - an explosion from the inside tearing at her innards.
Silver was nothing new to her, not even before she got tortured at the Royal Prison. She'd been silvered enough times to know where her limits lied, and she had reached them.
The more silver coursed through her veins, the more it hurt. Her senses exploded, every nerve set aflame. The one upside – as far as there was one – was that she had already been weakened, which meant her body had little fight left in it and shut down, so she spent the worst of it in a state of feverish oblivion.
When she did wake up, many hours after the latest dose of silver had been administered to her, she had trouble placing her surroundings into context. The first of her senses that started registering information was touch. She felt something being moved across her skin, something cool and wet, a sensation she welcomed on her clammy body. Next, her hearing kicked in again. There were voices, but she wasn't yet awake enough to distinguish between them, let alone make out what they were saying. Birds sung in the background, announcing daytime.
"I think she's waking up."
She heard the voice as through water, but at least she could make out the words. She turned her head towards the sound, trying to figure out if the speaker was someone she recognised or not. She didn't, or at least she thought she didn't.
The cool cloth – because that's what she figured it was – was removed from her skin and a whine slipped past her lips.
"You might be right," another voice said, sounding as if it was right beside her. Then there was a hand on her side, pushing her up a little, and then fingers prodding the sensitive skin of her back. She winced and made a move to swat the hand away, but her wrists were pulled back by chains that itched her sore skin. "Easy, there. Don't you remember me?"
She did remember him, vaguely. Her movements stilled.
"That's better. Can you open your eyes for me?"
Slowly she blinked her eyes open, squinting them shut immediately after when the bright light blinded her.
"Carry, close the curtains."
"On it."
There was a rustling of material and Ryleigh could tell the room got darker. She opened her eyes again, and this time she managed to keep them open. Slowly, Ridge came into view.
"That's a good girl," he said, smiling. "Let me take a look." He bent forward a little, peering into her eyes. "Still a bit silver, but there's definite improvement."
A young girl popped up beside Ridge, staring at her with wide, green eyes. "Did I wake you?" she asked. "I was just washing you. No offense, but you're dirty."
Ryleigh pulled down her brows and let her eyes dart to Ridge.
"Right. This is Carry. She's a dear, but very blunt. Don't mind her."
"I'm Austin's sister," she said. "The youngest of the four. How do you feel?"
"How do you think she feels? Give her some space. And me, for that matter. Shoo."
With a roll of her eyes, Carry set a few steps back. "Better? I wasn't done washing her, by the way. She's only half clean now, which looks a little odd."
"You can finish some other time," Ridge said. "Now be quiet." He turned to a table set up beside Ryleigh's bed and grabbed a cup with a strong-smelling substance in it. "I'm going to need you to drink this. I can't give you any pain-killers, since medication and silver don't exactly get along, but these herbs might help with the pain. I'm going to help you sit up now, alright? Carry, when I get her up, put that pillow behind her back, yeah? Alright, on three. One, two..." He helped Ryleigh get into a seated position, which stole the breath from her lungs. Carry hastily and far too roughly stuffed a pillow behind her. "Good, well done."
Ryleigh closed her eyes, a few tears involuntarily slipping past her closed lids. She lifted a hand to wipe them away, but the chains didn't give that far and got stuck at the level of her chest. She opened her eyes again and stared down at them.
"Sorry, it's for your own safety as well as ours," Ridge said. "Come, you need to drink. It'll help you breathe easier too. Or at least it should. I'll help you."
She shook her head and held out her hand instead, ignoring the pain that shot through her limb. A smile tugged at the corner of Ridge's mouth and he handed her the cup.
"You're a tough one, aren't you?"
She ignored him and brought the tea to her lips, hunching her body closer to the side of the bed so the chains could reach far enough. The liquid was lukewarm and smelt bitter. As soon as she took a sip, her body convulsed and she flew into coughing fit. Ridge was quick to pluck the cup out of her hands. She doubled over, gasping in between expulsions of air. She pressed a hand against her mouth and the other against her chest. If she could have screamed and coughed simultaneously, she would have.
"Carry, a cloth please," Ridge said.
Carry carried out the task quietly and swiftly. Ryleigh pulled her hand away from her mouth, and her fingers came back sticky with a mixture of saliva and silver.
"That's not good, is it?" Carry asked.
Ridge handed the cloth to Ryleigh, who wiped her hands and mouth with it, still shaking. Small sobs escaped her, her shoulders trembling. She pressed her lips together, trying to force her body under control, but she couldn't.
"O, darling," Ridge said, slipping an arm around her.
"I can't," she said, her voice thick. She clung unto him, resting her head against his waist. "Please make it stop."
"There's nothing I can do, I'm so sorry."
"Pain-killers," Ryleigh managed, her breath staggering.
"They'll kill you."
She looked up at him. "Yes."
"Carry, kindly leave," Ridge said, shooting Carry a look that allowed no arguing.
"But –"
"Now, Carry."
With a huff but without a word, Carry left the infirmary.
Ridge waited for the door to fall shut behind her, then sighed. "I'd have to talk about it with Austin. You're his prisoner, whether you like it or not."
"My life," she said, her words coming in quick pants. She disengaged herself from him and eased back into the pillows, her shoulders quivering with every pained breath.
"I'm sorry to break it to you, but it's not your life anymore. It's his call, and I know what he's going to say if I put it to him."
Ryleigh glared at him, but it was easy to see the desperation behind her anger. Worse than not having autonomy over your own life was having to see it in the hands of people who handled it so carelessly.
"I must say," he said, taking up the cup again and bringing it to her lips, letting her sip from it slowly, "I didn't think you'd pull through the night."
She didn't respond, but her eyes flitted up to meet his, and he saw the strength behind them, the sheer determination.
"You're a fighter, aren't you? I'm going to take a wild guess and say you don't want to die at all. You're in pain and you're desperate, I get that, but you don't want to die. You wouldn't have fought so hard to live."
She took another sip and stayed silent, swallowing the tea past the lump in her throat.
"Austin did mention you tried starving yourself to death in prison," he continued, "but you didn't have prospects then."
"And I do now?"
His movements paused at hearing her voice. "Yes. You might still be a prisoner here, but you're one step closer to freedom. And with that insane escape attempt you pulled, I'm inclined to think that getting out of here is your main objective." He helped her drink some more, but then she weakly pushed him away. He put the cup down and stepped back.
"Try to get some rest," he said. "I'll be in my office over there if you need me. Just holler." He nodded to a room at the back of the infirmary and started in that direction. About halfway there he halted when she spoke again:
"Dying is the fastest way out of here."
_______
A/N: She speaks at last!
This is where I remind you to share your thoughts and opinions, and, you know, maybe press that fun little vote-button if you're in the mood for it. Thanks for reading!