And her name is…

I clasp my hand over the gash in my wrist as it bleeds, then pressed the palm of my hand to the wall of my cell. When I’m happy with the nearly circular shape I use the blood on my fingers to make small lines down into the circle and my thumb to add small flicks up from those lines.

“Happy Birthday to me,” I mutter.

They had learned after the first year to bleed me the night before my birthday to keep my powers down, as I had nearly taken the lives of five guards after my failed escape attempt. That said, the fifth one wasn’t all to happy that he lived and I hadn’t seen him for two months afterward. When he did return to watching my cell or bringing my food, I couldn’t help but notice that his hair was now a permanent stark white. I can still vividly remember the look of absolute terror on his face when I, very sweetly, told him I liked it.

I had also ‘apologized’ to him. It’s a term I use loosely, much in the way that a child ‘apologizes’ to a sibling they had been caught tormenting by an angry parent. This was all a part of my act, the stupid human who couldn’t control the gift running through her veins. If they knew I knew anything about my powers I would never escape and things would only get more toxic.

I had bid my time that whole first year, knowing on my birthday I would gain a year of experience and get a sudden rush of power, but that fifth guard had gotten away and managed to warn the others. Every year since they double the guard the week surrounding my birthday and collected my blood to fuel their parties in the ballrooms above my underground cell.

I looked to the dozen guards with their eyes trained on me and gave them a gentle smile that I let waver sadly. “25,” I say, letting a whimper enter my voice. “A quarter century… that must be nothing to all of you. I feel like I’ve aged that much alone in the six that I’ve been here.”

That is the truth. While I haven’t beenconsistentlytortured in a while, that first year of keeping truths to myself was difficult. More than once I had wondered if their treatment of me would improve if I told them the truth, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t. By that point they had already gone too far and would double down on their decision over admitting their failure and allowing others to know.

I lean back against the wall to look over my arm and the bleeding has stopped but an angry red line remains, covered by scabbing. By tomorrow it would be a faint white scar to join the others. At one point I could have counted them, but now their different widths and lengths have them all blurring together into a starburst of painful memories.

I need to stand, to move toward my cot in the corner and lay down. It’s only a few feet away and I’m sure I can make it, but my head is immediately swimming in the dizziness of blood loss and I feel my body hit the stone floor before I noticed I’m tipping.

—

With the darkness comes a memory from my first year with the Sioga…

They are absolutely sure that I know more than I’m telling them, and to be fair they’re right but I’ll never tell any of these people. My ribs are bruised and healing from being curled up on the floor as Kheliq kicked me. He is a tall man with light brown hair, violet eyes, and tanned skin. He is built like someone who played sports competitively as a kid and kept up on his body just enough to have the appearance of strength.

And he always wears black. Always. Head to steal toe is the blackest colour I have ever seen and he doesn’t roll up his sleeves when he hits me.

I don’t know why this always seems so odd to me, but each time I see him I expect some sort ofshowthat he is about to start the abuse. Back home before kids fought they pushed their sleeves up, or took the whole shirt off. If they wore a hat it hit the ground and they would always touch their top lip to their nose. We all grew up in a small town together, and it was a secret code amongst us to say ‘I hate you right now, but friends tomorrow’.

This was never the case for Kheliq, not that we were ever friendly, even in the beginning he hadn’t even tried to be the good cop. Anytime he comes down to the prison and a guard will unlock the door as he strides through. I used to watch his limbs and try to guess which one would come flying at me. I was never right, and I could never get a ready on him, which is why I always ended up curled into a ball of self defence on the ground.

“Which family are you from?” I fist strikes my ribs and I cough.

Abigaia, I think but bite my lip and spit blood. “What do you mean?name is Lark.”

“Which of your parents was Sioga? You filthy half breed.” He spits at me before landing a boot into my shin.

My mother, she would have hated you, I think spitefully. “What?”

“Sioga! You idiot. Fae, fairy people, pixies, whatever your stupid humans call us.. Ugh, never mind.” Another kick to my arm this time. “What is your affinity!?” He demanded, pulling me off the ground by my hair and staring into my eyes.

Life, I think but let a half smile slide over mylips as I return his gaze with my spinning head and one swollen eye. “Your eyes are nice,” I say groggily, acting confused from the numerous head beatings.

At this point they’re still unaware that I heal as fast as they do. Because they never send a doctor to check on me and it’s someone different everyday bringing my meals, he thinks I’ll be recovering for a week and won’t be back for that long. Little does he know most of it will be healed by tomorrow.

He scoffed loudly and dropped me on the floor.

“Please take me home,” I begged for the hundredth time. “My town is small and peaceful, they won’t seek revenge and I am very important to them. They could starve without me there.”

It was true that I had picked up a lot of the hunting jobs near the end of it all, but no one in my town would ever go hungry again.

“You know this!” He demands. “No one is missing you, your town is gone, so you might as well get used to…”

“Maybe she’d remember something if you stopped starting your conversations by bouncing her head off the floor,” Wulfric muttered from the door.

My eyes rolled lazily over to fall on the built man whose hair starts out a vibrant blue, but he keeps it short so you can’t see what colour it becomes. His boyish features make people undermine him all the time, but I’ve heard more than a few sad stories of those unfortunate souls and anyone that’s heard of him knows better. In another life I’d find him attractive, and admire that quality in a general to a king, but in this life it just reminds me that venomous snakes come in pretty packages.

“Her skull isn’t so thin for what I’ve done to affect her memory of such rudimentary facts,” Kheliq snarls back. “Get out Wulfric, I’m busy.”

His friend chuckles even as Kheliq is picking me up from the floor by my throat. He’s asking something but that tick in my head from hitting the floor and the wall, mixed with my current lack of oxygen, has the words filtering through a fog in my head. I can’t understand what he’s saying but he shakes my body like I will through his effort.

My fingers claw at his hand to let go as my vision starts to go spotty, but I know he won’t released me until I start to go limp. After a minute I just relax my body and let my eyes drift closed as I try to choke silently.

He drops me back onto the bed, a small mercy over the floor, and I cough and sputter air into my lungs as Wulfric chastises Kheliq. “Why do you waste your time with these questions? We know she’s at least half Sioga, but she was raised with the humans. If you haven’t gotten any answers about her lineage and affinity by now she doesn’t know anything. There were no other Sioga in that town, and we’ve had scouts watching for weeks. No one has even tried to pass through on their way somewhere else. It’s too secluded.”

I’m often, in a strange way, grateful for Wulfric and his rational. With me at least, he’s often wrong but he has more common sense than Kheliq. Wulfric walked towards my cell and crouched to stare at me through the bars. Our eyes connect and I feel myself blushing even as I hold my neck in pain. My treacherous body recognizes how attractive he is even with how much I hate him.

Kheliq likes to use his brawn to make me fear him, but Wulfric likes to slip me mind altering food and tease me until I react As he looks at me I know that’s what he’s thinking about. He wants Kheliq to leave so he can have his own twisted way with me.

He’d never have sex with me, knowing some of the drugs make me crave the touch of another, he’d rather watch me writhe and squirm with the discomfort.

“Beg for me little halfling, and I’ll relieve your ache little mouse,” he would say.

I only did once. He chuckled and returned ‘if I wanted you I would need to drug you to have you begging for me’. He had closed the distance between us, forced my lips against his and then used the open shower across from the cells, telling me I could use my imagination to get off on my own. I refused to give him that satisfaction, but I saw the glint in his eye when I had to use that same shower once a week on shower day.

That gave me an idea.