Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
When the door to the cellblock hallway opens up, I hold my breath. Two clones stumble in, one on each side of Crulden, supporting him. The gladiator stumbles with every step, his head hanging forward, and it takes me a moment to realize that he's been heavily drugged. I press my hands to my mouth in horror as they shove him into the antechamber into the cell, and I see the bandages.
There's an enormous bandage over one shoulder, and one over his hand.
"Crulden?" I race forward, running my cuff under the door panel to activate it. He practically falls into the cell atop me, and the clones laugh as they leave. My gladiator rolls onto his back, his face bleary, and his eyes glazed. I touch his cheek. "What happened?"
"Scars," he murmurs. His words are slow, his tongue thick. "My…scars…didn't match."
Oh no.
My worst nightmare has been confirmed. They're not going to pull Crulden from the championship after all. They're just going to maim him to match…and it's my fault. I touch his bandaged hand and he hisses in pain. "Oh god, Crulden. I'm so sorry."
"You…still hate me?" He stares up at me, and his cat-like pupils are so dilated they're enormous, dark circles in his face. "Scared…?"
I shake my head, tears pouring down my face. I shift on the floor, staying down there with him, and I pull his head into my lap, letting him use my legs as a pillow. I know how much he loves it when I run my fingers through his hair—his mane, as he calls it—and I do so now, even as I fight back sobs.
I'm so stupid. So, so stupid. I thought if he was a clone, I'd save him. That they couldn't use him. Instead, I've just played into their plans. I didn't think anyone could be so cruel, but that's me still thinking like a human. I keep forgetting that this universe is harsh and unfriendly.
"I'm so sorry, Crulden," I whisper as I stroke his mane. "I'll make it up to you."
He smiles up at me, as if I'm beautiful. "But you don't hate me."
"Never," I whisper. "We're in this together…as long as you don't hate me."
"Never," he echoes.
I have a feeling he'll change his mind when the drugs wear off, but for now, I just comfort him like I can, and cry silently at what I've done to him.
26
CRULDEN
I hate the drugs more than the pain. A gladiator's life is full of enhancement boosters and shots of all kinds, but I don't like the drugs that make me dopey, the ones that make me compliant and dull. They pump me full of those when they take me to the scientist's office, claiming that they're vitamin shots, and by the time I realize what's happened, it's too late.
After that, it's all a haze of jumbled memories. Of Lord Sir and the scientist comparing my health charts. Of them carving into me with knives and rubbing something into the wounds that burns and blisters—so it'll scar, I overhear.
Then, they remove my smallest finger.
It's like something out of a nightmare, and when I return to the cell I share with Mina, I'm barely aware of my surroundings. I only know that Mina's scent is pure joy to me—not a trace of fear in it—and she strokes my mane as the drugs work their way through me.
The pain returns as the drugs ebb, and my mind clears. Dimly, I'm aware that it's morning. Mina should be sliding out of bed to get my meal from the kitchen, as our normal habit. Except…she's not in bed. She's stayed on the floor with me all night, my head in her lap. Her hands are in my mane, and if I turn toward her, my face would be pressed against her belly.
It's my favorite place in the world to be, and I don't want to change a thing.
"Crulden?" Mina whispers, and I should have known that she would notice I was awake. She notices everything about me. "How do you feel?"
I consider this. Parts of me hurt, but parts of me always hurt. My hand feels like it is on fire, and it still hasn't quite sunk in that I am now missing a finger. My head throbs with the aftermath of the medication, and my mouth is dry. But my senses are full of Mina, so I find that I do not care quite like I should. "I will survive," I say, choosing my words carefully. "Why are you on the floor with me?"
I want to ask more. Why are you suddenly not afraid of me? What changed? Do you pretend not to hate me so I will let my guard down?
To my surprise, Mina begins to weep. "Because they left you on the floor and I couldn't pick you up. It's all my fault, so I stayed with you." Her breath catches and she sobs. "It's all my fault."