the seven devils [completed]

chapter thirty-eight

NOTE: I was not going to publish this until tomorrow or Tuesday, but then I got bored and I realized I wanted to see everyone's reaction and comments to this chapter. So yes, enjoy and please do let me know what you think.

THE ANATOMY OF VARYA PETROV - ?????

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ivan patted her burning skin with a cold towel that he had stolen from Lawrence's bag, then dipped in the water that was slowly dripping from the pipes of the building. She had been aching throughout the whole night, and he had to hold her down multiple times and stop her from exploding with magic that had been suppressed for so long.

"It is eating me alive," Varya breathed, feeling the way the shadows of the room moved with every word she muttered. "You know I am going to die. Dalibor said it himself; I will not make it past the age of fourteen at this point, not at the rate it is consuming me."

"You will," came the voice of Ecaterina as she moved in her bed. She had been there the least of all of them, and yet was the weakest, "All they have to do is erase your memories again. If you do not remember what they did to you, it cannot cling to your feelings."

"But it keeps breaking through," Varya wheezed as Ivan tried to get her to sit against the wall, "Every few years, it starts breaking through. And when I remember, it unleashes. They said I killed half of the staff at the castle last time, and I—"

"You are not going to die," Ivan's rough voice sounded through the room. He had stayed awake to take care of his two friends, who had both fallen ill due to the continuous testing. "None of us will die. We will see the sunrise again; we will see our families."

"I do not have a family," Varya remarked bitterly. "I thought I had a caretaker. She was merely fiction, some kind of imagery they put in my brain to hide the years of torture."

"Then, you will see the sunrise."

"I like thinking about those things, you know," answered Ecaterina before she spluttered in a fit of coughs. Varya tried to stay positive, imagine a world where the girl could survive, but she would not make it through the week. She had a few days, at most. "Before I got sent away, my mum always made me cherry pies for my birthday. I did not like them, but I think I would eat them well now. However, now they think I am dead, and how do I come back from that?"

"My parents think I am still getting an education here," muttered Ivan as he made his way to the other girl, and ripped a rag off of the sheets. He used it to tie the girl's hair, make her feel better as she— no, she could not die. She was too young. He shook that thought away. "I mean, why should they think otherwise? Dalibor has us in here for months to no end, then sends us out with our memories wiped. Then, we come back here, and he breaks everything down through torture. He likes playing this game, I think. I suspect he has long given up on his experiments; now, he does it for fun. But when I go back home during the holidays, I cannot tell my parents what goes on. I have started leaving myself small messages, things to jog up my memory when I go back up. My girlfriend, Lydia, I think she is keeping track of everything. And when she figures everything out, she will let us know."