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206 Lisa: Hearing Voices

It’s disgusting to admit that I look forward to Marisol’s presence, even though her treatment has only gone downhill. At least she brings food.

The first day I was brought here, there were voices. Whispers. Noises through the walls.

Lately, it’s nothing but silence.

Every so often, there’s that dripping water sound that lasts for hours, which used to drive me mad but is now a break from the monotony of nothing.

The clinking of the manacles around my wrists and ankles echoes in the dank cell as I gnaw at the hunk of bread in my hands, its crust stale and unappetizing. But hunger gnaws at my stomach, and this is my only way to fill it.

Marisol is crouched mere feet away, her eyes wide and curious as she watches me eat. It’s unnerving the way she observes me like I’m some sort of exotic creature in a zoo. I try to ignore her, focusing instead on the meager meal in front of me.

The soup is a sickly shade of green, its scent reminiscent of rotting vegetables. I wrinkle my nose as I bring the bowl to my lips, but I’m surprised to find that it doesn’t taste as bad as it looks. It’s thin and watery, but there’s a hint of something savory that makes it almost palatable.

As I sip, I watch Marisol out of the side of my eye. Sometimes she seems so naive, like a child who doesn’t understand the world

206 Lisa: Hearing Voices

around her. But other times, there’s a sharpness to her gaze that makes me think she’s far more cunning than she lets on. It’s like playing a game of Russian roulette every time she comes to my cell -I never know which version of her I’m going to get.

Marisol shifts, her bare feet scraping against the rough floor. She leans in closer, her breath hot against my skin as she whispers, “You eat like an animal.”

I flinch at her words, my cheeks burning with shame. I want to

snap back at her, to tell her that I’m not an animal, that I’m a person with thoughts and feelings and a life outside of this cell. But I bite my tongue.

Instead, I focus on the bread, tearing off another piece and shoving

it into my mouth. The crust scratches at my throat as I swallow. I should have soaked it in the soup. Maybe I will.

Marisol watches me with a twisted sort of fascination, her head

cocked to the side like a curious bird. “Do you dream of freedom?”

she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I pause, the bread halfway to my mouth. Do I dream of freedom? Of course I do. Every moment of every day, I dream of breaking free from these chains and running as far away from this place as I can. But I know better than to say that out loud.

“I dream of many things,” I say instead, my voice hoarse. C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

Marisol smiles, a slow, creeping thing that sends shivers down my spine. “I dream too,” she says, her eyes glazing over as if lost in thought. “I dream of the day when the master will make me his queen, and I will rule by his side for all eternity.”

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206 Lisa: Hearing Voices

My stomach twists with revulsion. How can she possibly want that? How can she desire a life of servitude to a monster who keeps her locked away in the dark?

The soup is gone now, the bowl empty save for a few stray drops of green liquid. I set it aside, my stomach still grumbling with hunger. Marisol watches me, her eyes glinting in the dim light.

“You’ll learn to love it here,” she says, her voice soft and almost dreamy. “Just like I did. The master will make you his, and you’ll never want to leave.”

I shake my head, my heart pounding in my chest. “Never,” I whisper, my voice trembling with fear and defiance. “I’ll never belong to him. I’ll never stop fighting.”

He hasn’t been around since the first time, and I’m immensely grateful. Still, every day is just another day of anxiety twisting in my gut, wondering when he’ll be back.

Marisol just smiles, a knowing look in her eyes. “We’ll see,” she says, rising to her feet with a grace that seems out of place in this dank cell. “We’ll see.”

Soon enough, she’s gone again and I’m back to silence, my belly full and my heart cold.

I’m starting to lose hope.

Shouldn’t they have been here by now?

Have they given up?

Do they think I’m dead?

Is Ava dead?

206 Lisa: Hearing Voices

The questions are never ending, driving me insane. I almost miss the feverishness after the vampire drank from me, the misery of weakness. At least then, I didn’t notice when the time passed.

Trying to get comfortable is an impossible endeavor, but I try anyway, tucking a threadbare blanket Marisol had brought me around my shoulders. It wasn’t out of kindness–she was tired of seeing me naked and didn’t want to share clothes–but it’s still a

small comfort in this awful existence.

Just as I’m about to close my eyes and attempt to drift off into a fitful sleep, an unfamiliar rustle catches my attention. My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, straining my ears to listen. It’s a soft sound, like something brushing against the stone walls. I hold my breath, wondering if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

But then, to my utter shock, a rumpled piece of paper flutters into my cell, landing on the floor just a few feet away from me.

Is this real?

Or have I finally succumbed to the madness of isolation?

With trembling hands, I reach out and grasp the paper, my fingers shaking as I unfold it. My heart pounds in my chest, hope and fear warring within me. Could this be a message from the outside world? A sign that someone knows I’m here, that they’re coming to

rescue me?

But as I smooth out the creases and look down at the paper, my hopes are dashed. There’s nothing there.

It’s just a blank sheet, devoid of any words or markings. A bitter Haugh bubbles up in my throat, the cruel irony of it all threatening

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206 Lisa: Hearing Voices

to overwhelm me. Of course it’s empty. What did I expect? A detailed escape plan? A heartfelt letter?

I crumple the paper in my fist, ready to toss it aside in frustration, when a soft whisper emanates from it. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. The whisper is faint, barely audible, but I strain my ears to listen.

“We’re coming.”

Three simple words, but they hit me like a bolt of lightning. My heart races and I gasp, staring down at the paper in disbelief. Desperate for more, I smooth out the paper again. I bring it close to my face, my eyes scanning the blank surface for any hint of a message. But there’s nothing.

I hold it against my ear.

Nothing.

Just those three whispered words echoing in my mind.

We’re coming.

Who?

Ava.

There’s no one else. It has to be Ava.

Ava is coming.