radicalducati 180
180
Eir's POV
"Drifta? Drifta!?"
Even whispering her name gave me pain.
Each word, each breath burned down my throat. It’s been days, and I’ve lost count of how many times I shouted, whispered, and cried out her name, but she never answered. She was gone; I could feel it. Again, I felt that empty hole inside me, that missing piece of my heart and soul, but how? What happened? I didn’t even know where I was. Without any windows, I had no way of telling if it was day or night. All there was in this cold, basement-like cell was a dim candlelight near the door, and usually, I didn’t even have that. Usually, someone came by once a day or at least every other day, from what I've been told, and every time they slammed the massive door behind them, the flame was blown out. Leaving me once again alone in the cold darkness. Small streams of water trickled through my cage, creating tiny creaks in the muddy ground I sat on. My clothes are gone, my legs, arms, every part of my body covered in bruises, cuts, dirt, and dried blood. My head constantly throbs, and the pain is sometimes unbearable, but nobody responds, no one will answer me. Tell me why I look like this, why I am here, why I hurt so much. Nothing. I've cursed every single person, pleaded with them, cried, and shouted. Nothing changed; they never even stopped to look. They just walk in, do what they’re there for, and leave again. No reactions, no answers, not even looking at me. The only thing different is her.
It seemed like the only reason she was here was to torment me. She never came with water or food, or to pick up my bucket-no. Every time I saw her face, I could feel my heart drop. We spent hours together, and I still have no idea what she wants, who she is, or anything else. It's baffling how a woman can talk so much without really saying anything. It didn't take me long to realize she was here only to mess with my head. At first, I had high hopes. She asked about my childhood, where I was from, and my family. It almost felt like she was genuinely interested in one moment, and out of nowhere, she suddenly stormed off like I had greatly offended her. Slamming the door shut, I could hear her stomping down the hall, leaving me clueless behind.
This had happened several times already, and every time she came back later, pretending nothing ever happened. However, she never answered any of my questions, never acknowledged my confusion. Like nothing happened, like we never had spoken before. The first handful of times she came by was the most intense, and every time she left, my body was either tense, scared, confused, or rigid with rage. She was demanding, incredibly rude, and seemed, all in all, extremely self-centered. I had tried to negotiate with her, trick her, talk around her, and beg her. All attempts peeled right off her, like water drops on an oil-covered surface. Not once did she even pretend to hear my questions or dignify herself with an answer, so I had changed my tactics. I started answering her the best I could, hoping this would buy me some good graces, so far, no luck, and now, now I’m just tired.
I no longer feel the biting and burning cold nipping at my skin; I didn’t bother to feel anger or disappointment. I stopped caring at all. I am just existing. All I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and be left alone. Curled up, with a firm grip around my knees and my back turned to the door. I stopped turning around, stopped trying to talk to whoever came by, and eventually, I stopped even reacting or acknowledging them. The pain on my side and hipbone was gone; I just felt numb and heavy. Even the cold and wet mud didn’t even bother me anymore; that cold, all-consuming pressure ache had slowly become part of me and my life. I didn’t notice it anymore, it didn’t matter anymore, the only thing that still meant anything was Drifta, but she was nowhere to be found.
"Drifta!?"
My raspy, hoarse voice broke as each word burned up my dry and sore throat, but the unfamiliar sound of my own voice had stopped to startle me. I had stopped trying to talk to her inside my head and mind. I whispered or shouted her name out into the darkness every now and then and waited for the next time I felt I had enough energy to try again.
"Stop it and look at me!"
Again, I ignored her.
A dull thud and the whining sound of the metal bars echoed through the room as she kicked them again. Her rage washed over the room in waves, but I had no desire to entertain her anymore, and I had no energy to waste on her. It was all saved for Drifta, for our connection, for us. I could die here, and I've accepted that, but I will not accept dying without Drifta. I will fight that outcome to my last breath. She could scream, demand, and kick the cage bars as much as she wanted, but for me, right now, it was nothing but an annoying presence and sound.
"Tell me about the mate connection and family connection! Do you hear me!? Tell me how it works! Tell me how the animal knows, now!!"
She kicked the bars again, and judging from the low mumbling cusses behind me, she kicked harder than she planned to.
"Mate..."
The word tasted funny in my mouth, almost foreign, and a pool of regret burst inside of me. Filled my chest, heart, and stomach like a burning acid of unforgivable mourn from the sacred bond I had thrown away. Neglected and now lost.
"Mate..."
Thick and shaking, I managed to force the word out as tears spilled over and the pain became too much.