I had wanted to look around, see what horrors had made this place forbidden, but my eyes still would not respond to my commands. I stared into the darkness as my hands were bound and chained above my head, the chain extended until I was pulled to a stand, my weight supported by my wrists, my weak legs not able to hold me. Even though I could feel the stone against the balls of my feet, I couldn’t move my legs to try to stand against it.
They left me there, alone, strung up against the cold stone. I hoped that the mysterious power I shared with the stone of these walls would awaken and ignite, but the rock Edmund had forced down my throat had done its job. I was powerless.
I stayed like this for hours, with only the darkness for company , and an occasional movement or whimper off to my left. I wasn't sure if it was a rodent or the battered man that Edmund had been dragging around behind him.
Time passed. I was sure that if I could feel anything, my shoulders would be on fire, my wrists screaming and broken from supporting me for so long, and my legs numb from lack of movement. I felt nothing, saw nothing but black.
I don’t know if I had passed out or simply slept, but the clanging of chains woke me, the subtle pressure of fingers against my spine. I heard the sound, felt the touch, and everything inside of me woke up.
I had been wrong. It wasn't pain in my arms and legs that the numbness had taken away; it was agony. Without my magic to numb the sensation, it quickly moved to torture. I screamed as my brain registered the pain, the sound echoing off the dark walls. My scream hung in the damp air even after the wide fist collided with my face, leaving more pain at the heavy impact. I screamed again at the pain, only to have another punch join the first. I whimpered, and this time the hand hit me with a wide palm, the message as clear as day. The less noise you make, the less you are hurt. Say nothing. I did not need the words to understand the lesson that that hand was teaching me.
The chains that suspended me clattered again as they were moved higher, extending my body until I was on my tiptoes, the stone cold and uncomfortable against my back. I screamed at the movement, whether I wanted to or not, the sound loud for a moment before the same hand smacked my cheek, the face of the hand’s owner swimming into view.
"Silence, princess," my father sneered, his lip curling underneath his large moustache. "There are consequences."
He slapped me again, his movement unprovoked except in warning. My cheek stung, and my body screamed, but I said nothing, refusing to give him rise to the occasion, to let him win. I just stared into his eyes, the irises as dark as mine, waiting for more. But none came, and his smile only increased.
"Aren't you going to say hello to your father?" he sneered. "I think I have taught you better manners than this."
I stared at him in silence, my eyes wide as I taunted him, as I dared him. If I was anyone else, I would have whimpered and given in to him, but I couldn't, something deep inside wouldn't let me. Timothy's eyes narrowed at my defiant gaze, his confidence wavering at my stubbornness. Good. He may kill me, but I was going to put up a fight until the very end.
"Say, hello," he sneered again, the stubbornness I had inherited from him forcing him on. I shook my arms ; the fire burned through my arms, and I winced, my taunt lost as pain seared through me only to settle in my spine. I couldn't stop it. A groan escaped me as I fought back a scream, my jaw clenching painfully as I attempted to keep the scream behind my lips.
I should have just screamed. Timothy's fist collided with my face, turning the groan into a scream – a scream that triggered another impact of Timothy's fist against my cheek.
I froze, keeping the noise trapped in my chest, a lone tear escaping my eye whether I had wanted it to or not. I looked at my father with as much hatred, as much power as I could muster. I found