Chapter 52

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WARNING: This chapter contains subjects that may be triggering for some individuals. These subjects include but are not limited to: violence and gore.

ELLE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

I don't want to move. I want to lie here and die in this bed of hurt I've laid out for myself. Until my muscles atrophy and I can no longer function without help. Because help is what I need. I need someone. I can't go on anymore. Not after he is gone. I can't be alone.

Would a happy ending have been too much to ask for? Would any ending other than this, have been too much to ask for?

The sound of the metal door slamming shut pulls me into consciousness. Although I wish I could slip back out of it. Being awake is much more painful.

Slowly, I blink my eyes open. The lids are heavy and tired. My bones ache feverishly as I try to sit up. It's no use trying. What do I have to sit for? What do I have to live for if not for him?

I allow myself to remain crumbled to the floor of the cell. Where my tears ran dry and my power drained. I've never felt a worse kind of exhaustion than what is raging through me now.

"Eleya?" A sweet voice echoes through my cell. Suddenly soft hands are on me, shaking my shoulders lightly. I remain still, hoping they will go away. "Wake up. Please."

The voice takes a minute to register in my brain, but once it does, the exhaustion is immediately replaced with anger. I force myself to sit up and for my eyes to open. I easily recognize the woman in front of me. Her auburn-red hair and light, grey eyes are a giveaway.

"Get out," I grumble as pain twinges through my chest. I want to fall back over and succumb to this weight of inevitable grief, but I am not moving until she is out of my sight.

"Eleya, please," Santia begs, weakly. "I'm your mother. Please listen—"

The tears seem to have replenished themselves, because now my eyes can do nothing but flood and burn. "Get out!" There is no life in my tone. Why should there be? My life was stolen. He is to be killed because I dragged him into this mess. He could be dead already. Alec would be alive if he never met me.

Queen Santia reaches forward to wipe a tear off my cheek, sympathy contorting her too thin features. "Don't cry. You're my little girl. I do not wish to see you hurting like this."

My control snaps and I lunge, pushing her down to the ground so that I have her stomach pinned beneath my knee. She coughs, eyes going wide. "You should have thought of that before you tricked us into getting captured by Keaton," I spit, hovering over her.

My mother struggles beneath me, trying to break free. "It's not what it seems," she rasps.

I press my knee down slightly harder. "Don't lie to me again, because I have no problem killing you. In case it wasn't made obvious, your daughter isn't in the mood for your shit." With that I release her, settling against the wall. That much movement alone has me feeling like I got trampled by a horse. I'm still so exhausted from overusing my ability and from screaming.

She clutches her stomach and sits up cautiously. "I didn't trick you. Keaton must have used the tunnels to get into my room, because I never saw him or the others come through the door."

"Then why were you so focused on trying to get us to stay? You must have known we were in a hurry, yet you asked my brother to sit as if you were stalling us long enough for Keaton to get there."

She shakes her head. "Eugene needed to sit. I could see it on his face that he was in pain. A lot of movement is hard for him, no matter how he tries to hide it. He needed a few moments to rest."

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