When my vision finally cleared, I saw her. Amelia. She stood by my bedside, her silver whip coiled loosely in her hand, its metallic sheen catching the faint light from the single, flickering candle.
Her fingers moved with a surprising gentleness as she cleaned the wounds on my arms, applying a pungent salve that stung but also soothed.
“Barely,” I managed to croak out, my throat dry and scratchy. “I must be extremely exhausted. I just want to become stronger.”
Amelia’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “We survive,” she said simply. “And maybe, just maybe, we find a way to break free.”
She looked down at our hands, her expression unreadable for a moment before she nodded. “Together.”
The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rusted metal, the kind of smell that clung to the back of your throat and refused to let go.
Mia saw James, his head resting in her lap, his face serene, almost childlike in its innocence.
“Why?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city. “Why her?”
Inside, Amelia’s laughter floated through the air, soft and melodic, a sound that should have been comforting but instead felt like a knife twisting in Mia's gut. She leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from James’s forehead, her touch so tender.
James smiled up at her, his eyes half-lidded, content. “It’s you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re the reason I feel this way.”
The narrow alleys of the slums twisted and turned around me, the shadows closing in like a suffocating blanket. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to get away, to put as much distance between myself and that house as possible. My feet pounded against the cracked pavement, the sound echoing in the empty streets.
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