The Messiah [1]

12: Athena

Athena woke, her mouth drier than any desert she had ever heard of. Her eyes couldn't seem to open, and her head couldn't seem to stop pounding. At first she heard nothing, and it was nice living in complete silence, even if only for a few moments. But when her hearing finally did catch up, it wasn't a gradual experience, but a fireworks display of noise. She grunted in pain, mentally blinking as she tried to remember what was happening.

They had threatened to cut her hair. She had said no. Everything after that was a panic-induced blur. Athena's chest was burning fiercely, and when she moved to rub it she found that her hands were latched to the bed beneath her. Fear exploded through her, leaving Athena shaking and weak as she struggled against the bonds. It was no use. The more she struggled, the tighter the bonds seemed to get. Athena's wrists were raw by the end, and blood dripped down her fingers and onto the tile floor beneath her. The steady drip distracted Athena from the pain deep in her skull.

Drip.

She was going to die.

Drip.

But she wouldn't give up the rebellion.

Drip.

Would they torture her?

The door opened, bringing Athena's attention away from her morbid thoughts and to the shadow standing in the doorway. She stared listlessly, wondering if today would be her last day in this horror of a world. The shadow stepped forward, revealing to be Theodore in his pristine lab coat, a bandage wrapped around one hand. Had she done that? Athena couldn't remember.

"I see you're finally awake." Theodore said, edging into the room, his eyes wary.

Athena just watched him, numb. She tried to open her mouth to respond - to apologize for attacking him, but she didn't have the strength to part her dry lips. Theodore reminded Athena of a grandfather, or at least what she thought a grandfather should look like. She had never known hers, and so had no memory to draw reference from. Theodore's hair was a soft, almost sandy blonde, but it was liberally laced with silver. He walked to the metal table, pouring a glass of water and turning toward her. Athena wondered if he had any grandchildren, and if so, what their eye colors were.

"If I give you some water, will you try to bite my fingers off?" Theodore smiled, but his eye showed his discomfort.

Athena shook her head. Theodore walked closer, using his bandaged hand to lift her head and the other to tilt the glass. Warm water ran over her lips and down her sore throat, quenching a thirst she hadn't known was so severe. She drank the glass greedily, finishing it and the second one he fetched for her in a matter of minutes.

When Athena was finished, Theodore set the glass back on the table. He pulled the chair from the floor where it had been tossed, righted it and sat down next to the bed. Athena stared at him in silence, wondering what the next hoop she would need to jump through would be. She eventually let her head fall back, choosing to stare at the ceiling. It was then that she felt the breeze on her neck. Athena closed her eyes, not daring to believe what she was feeling.

"You cut my hair?" she asked, her voice small.

Theodore sighed, "After you attacked my colleagues it was hard to argue with the King over a rather trivial matter." His voice thick with disgust and Athena could feel his stare, heavy with disappointment.

Taking a deep breath, Athena fought the rise of emotions that rolled through her like waves. Her heart was being battered against the shore, and there was no way to save it.

"I'm sorry, Athena, but I am here to help you." Theodore leaned forward, his hand brushing against her trapped one. Athena tipped her head, looking questioningly into Theodore's eyes. That's when it happened. Athena would have missed it if she hadn't been trained to see it. A small flash, silver in color and close to Theodore's iris - the mark of concealing contacts. Theodore didn't have brown eyes.