Roots [Completed]

Chapter 5 - Part 4

\\tw: mentions of death, blood\\

There's something that happens to you when you're about to die.

I've felt it before. It came most sharply when I leapt from Sam's balcony. In the moment before his hand had latched on my arm, there was a sensation, strange and kind of peaceful, though tinged in panic and desperation. It's hard to describe perfectly, maybe because it's meant to be fleeting - the barest feeling of the bridge between life and death under your feet.

And then it's gone.

-

We drive for a long time in silence. I try to keep track of where we're going, but the sensation of being in a car with Sam again is making my skin clammy. Every time I blink, I'm back at the beginning, a blindfold around my mouth and panic bursting in my veins. It's the most I can do just to keep myself from jumping out of the moving car. All I know is that we pull out into a dirt road in the middle of a forest, after crossing state lines, and that, eventually, in a hidden crevice in a thick wall of trees, somehow, there emerges the familiar silhouette of a large, regal house.

My breathing accelerates on its own. I close my eyes. Not here. Not again. My instincts are screaming at me to run away, to run anywhere else, to crawl into the forest and never look back.

But instead, I get out of the car. Sam walks behind me, forcing me forward like herding a sheep. It's almost good that he's there, because when I try to take the first step up to the large doorway, I'm shaking so badly that my foot slips. If not for the iron hand that Sam uses to right me, I would have fallen.

I'm not sure how I do it. To keep myself moving through the doorway and down the halls, I turn my brain off. I pretend I have left my body behind. When Sam's hand comes up to my elbow, directing me down a long staircase, it's almost like I'm watching it from the outside, an impassive observer. As we come to the bottom of the stairs, the view of the floor jars me out of my numb reverie. It's a dark concrete, and the air smells like rust, blood, and mud.

We're in the dungeons.

I recoil. My first thought is that Sam has decided to punish me for leaving. He's going to keep me here.

Sam prods me forward, but my knees are locked together. He leans forward, his breath warm against my cheek.

"Don't you want to see your little wolf?"

I startle. He's taking me to Topher right away? I thought I would have to fight to see him for days or weeks.

Why did he want me to see him? My lungs feel like they've been stuffed with cotton balls. He would only want me to see Topher if Topher's in bad shape. He would want me to see him weakened and broken.

I take a staggering step forward.

The prison cells start blurring together. I see one with dried blood in a crust on the floor; it looks more recent than the others. Maybe it's the one I stayed in. I shudder.

It gets noticeably colder as we continue deeper into the cells. When Sam finally stops us in front of a cell, I'm shivering. I'm dressed for the summer.

Through the bars, I see him, surrounded by three guards.

Topher is hanging from the ceiling by chains bound to his wrists. His clothing is in tatters. The first thing I notice is his golden hair, illuminated by the faint glow of the single lanterns swinging in the center of the room. It's matted and darkened in patches with blood. His body is bent in a painful pose, his head hanging low so, at first, I can't see his face. I gasp when I finally make it out in the shadows.