Mi Adelinetta // the young elites

Mi Adelinetta

I'm screaming and screaming and screaming and no one can hear me. No one can hear the shame, the guilt, the hurt pounding in my chest. I don't feel the bolt sticking out of my shoulder. I don't feel anything except the rending of my heart, the hot, hot shame that will haunt me forever. The ghost of his smile, so pained, so loving. I can never forget. I will never forgive.

The Inquisitors find me alone. I let them catch me. Torture me. Kill me. Nothing will match what's already been done. Enzo. I miss him. The memory of his kiss, his lips brushing against mine. I miss him.

I'm thrown into a damp cell, but they take no chances. I'm chained to the wall, and my legs don't hold me. I collapse in a heap, a mess of tears and shudders and screams. I've never cried this much. Not when Mother died in my arms, not when the Inquisition killed my friends. Enzo. I don't deserve to say his name. I don't deserve to live. I don't deserve anything.

It takes them hours, days, weeks, for them to come back. They find a pile of dead rats at my feet, their legs stiff, necks arched in pain. I throw everything I have at the Inquisitors. It's not until Teren comes for me, wearing the same white robe embellished with gold, that I stand, hatred blazing in my eyes. I want him dead. I want Teren, who should have died instead of him, dead. Dead, dead, dead. Six feet underground.

I mount to the iron stake in a haze, blurred by tears and pain. I long for the fire. I long for death. An end to the hurt. Chains, on my wrists, my ankles. A noose, looped around my neck. Teren lights the fire himself. I whisper Enzo's name, over and over, even as the flames lick my legs, my waist, my bare skin. Dark silhouettes circle the sky, their phantom arms wisps of forgotten dreams.

Enzo. Forgive me.