Two hundred and seventy-three . . . two hundred and seventy-four . . . two hundred and seventy-five . . . two hundred and seventy-six.
276 days. That's how long Luciana was in this cell. Every day she scratched another line on the wall.
I thought it was a stupid and dramatic thing to do, but after a couple of weeks I realized it's probably the only thing that can keep you sane when you're sitting in a stone room in total isolation.
I can't believe how sadistic these assholes are. They put me in her old cell. It hasn't even been cleaned. There's blood smeared on the door and a sticky puddle in the corner.
I feel bile rise in my throat when I realize the blood either belonged to Luciana, or they've succumbed other people to this torture. I suppose it had to be the latter. It's too damn fresh.
My jaw clenches at the sound of the door hinges creaking. The guard angel stalks inside the cell, his painted blue wings held stiff and proud like the good little soldier he is.
He takes the chains off my wrists but leave the restraints on my wings. They hurt like hell, pinching my wings together so tight―they're practically bare under the thick leather. Dozens of red feathers are scattered across the floor.
The guard grabs my arm and yanks me off the cot and out the door. My arm throbs where his fingers dig into my flesh. My bare feet sting worse though, already bloody from walking on the rough stone in my cell. I can't see anything in the dark hall, but I bet there are hundreds of rust-colored footprints covering the floor.
Moans of agony and hoarse sobbing fill my ears as I pass the other cells, until finally the guard locks me in a sterile white room at the end of the hall. The acrid stench of chemicals burns my nose and makes my eyes water.
"Step over there Diana, just like before," a voice says.
I glance at the light angel sitting on a chair in the corner. His face is stoic as he looks at me, not even a trace of empathy or concern.
I swallow hard before trudging to the center of the room where two more guards wait. One of them cuffs my hands together in front of me while the other locks chains around my ankles. The chains are so short that I can't move my feet apart at all.
They each hold one of my arms even tighter than the last guard. I feel a hand stroke my wings and my stomach turns.
"For a demon's daughter, your wings truly are beautiful," the man breathes in my ear.
My heart beats faster and my entire body shakes with each shuddering breath. A sharp pain at the base of my right wing makes me gasp. Tears prick my eyes and I don't have the strength to hold them back.
I feel the needle in my other wing and a small whimper escapes my lips. "How long are you going to keep doing this?" I rasp.
"Well thanks to your mother, we aren't allowed to remove your wings. So, you're going to keep coming in here every week until your mother stops being an overprotective little bitch," he spits.
I start to open my mouth to respond, to defend my mother, but nothing comes out. My body is virtually drained of energy as the remaining bit of strength is sapped from my wings.
I feel his hands on them again and a wave of nausea rises over me. "Please stop," I plead weakly.
"Unchain her feet and put her on the table," he says and I feel panic set in.
"What are you doing?" I ask as the guards follow his instructions.
"If your wounds get infected, you're going to get sick, and the infection would likely kill you with how weak you are. And the Council would be unhappy if that were to happen," he says, dragging over his stool to sit in front of me.
My heart slows when he cleans and bandages the gashes on the bottoms of my feet. It stings at first but then a sigh of relief escapes my lips as the pain subsides.
"Take her back to the cell," he says.
The guards remove my handcuffs and push me out into the hall where the angel from before takes me back to the cell. It's colder than when I left.
They chain me again then lock the door, sliding the little window shut. The chains don't hurt but they're heavy. They're attached to the floor, just barely long enough to let me reach the corners of the room. Not that the exertion necessary to do so was actually worth it.
I lie down on the bed, noticing there is now a blanket. I throw it over myself and rest my head on the thin pillow. I have to sleep on my side, otherwise my wings start to hurt, and my hands have to stay out in front of me or I lose feeling in them altogether. It's uncomfortable to say the least but I don't say a word. The guards would just make it worse.
I close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come. My skin tightens as the room grows colder and I feel a shiver run through my body.
If only that man didn't inject that stupid stuff into my wings.
I pull the blanket tighter and curl myself up into a ball. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I have friends that know I'm missing and care about me. They're coming for me, I tell myself.
The weight in my chest lightens a little and I manage a smile. Sleep still doesn't come.
***
I am staring at the scratches on the door when I hear a faint commotion outside. I climb slowly to my feet and creep towards the door.
Pressing my ear to it, I hear what sounds like an alarm. I rap my fists against the metal. "Hey what's going on?"
The small window slides open. "Nothing you should concern yourself with, now go sit back down," he growls.
"Okay I will, but please keep the window open?" I beg. "I'll stay quiet and I'll sit down if you keep it open."
"One sound from you and it will stay closed permanently," he warns.
"Thank you," I murmur. I sit back down on the bed with a small smile.
The noise gradually grows louder. After a few minutes, I can hear shouting and a few minutes more, its doors crashing open.
"Diana!" I hear a familiar voice scream and tears run down my cheeks.
I leap to my feet and bang my fists on the door. "I'm in here!" I shout hoarsely.
The window immediately slides shut but I keep slamming my hands against the metal. I can already feel the bruises forming but I don't care.
I jerk back as the door suddenly creaks open. The guard steps inside my cell and my eyes widen as he moves to unlock my chains. But then I see Luciana behind him and it clicks in my head.
The chains drop and I rush forward, throwing my arms around her. She gently hugs me back, and I feel wetness on my shoulder. "Thank god you're still alive," she whispers.
"Up until now I wished I wasn't," I murmur.
She pulls away with a pained look on her face. "I know I'm so sorry, I can't believe I left you for so long in this god-awful place I―wait, is this my cell?" she asks, staring at the wall covered in scratches.
"Yeah, they showed me some awful things while I was here, I don't think I'll ever sleep again."
"What did they do to your wings?" she asks, fiddling with the restraints.
You should see what they did to yours, I think but I can't bring myself to say it. The less she knows the more she'll be able to sleep.
I gasp as the pressure on my wings releases. I try to stretch them out, but they fully collapse, dragging on the floor like a horrifying train. A harsh sob escapes my lips. "They're broken," I stammer.
Ana puts her hands on the sides of my face and shushes me gently. "They will heal Diana, now let's get you out of here. Daniel should be finished freeing the others by now," she says.
"Daniel is here?"
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
I swallow hard and nod quickly. I follow her down the corridor, cringing at the sound of my wings dragging behind me. We take a series of turns until we reach a flight of stairs. The exit.
"Damn it Daniel, where the fuck are you?" Ana shouts. Her voice quivers and it makes my eyes widen a little.
"If he's not here then―"
"He wouldn't leave without us. Something's wrong," she hisses angrily before storming back down the hall of cells.
I take a deep breath before following her. She moves so quickly that I lose her for a few moments but just as panic starts to set in, I find her standing frozen at the entrance to the medical hall―the same hall where I went for testing and the injection that immobilized my wings.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly and her body is shaking. I move to her side and follow her gaze to two figures at the end of the hall.
Daniel is pinned against the wall by nothing, his hands grabbing at his throat and his eyes wide.
Standing in front of him is a young man. His eyes are an icy blue, filled with a coldness that makes me step back.
"No, no they didn't," Luciana whispers beside me, stepping back as well.
Her eyes are filled with fear and she shakes her head furiously as she looks at the boy.
I peer closer at him and swallow hard when I realize what is scaring her. The boy has massive wings; the feathers are white with flecks of black covering them. He flicks his wrist and Daniel's body slams against the opposite wall before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
"Damn it," I breathe, glancing back at Luciana.
She shakes violently now, her legs weakening beneath her as she lets out a sob. "My wings. He has my wings."