Relentless (Book 3)

Chapter 27: Bethany - The Eighth Day

I couldn't have slept more than a few hours. My branding was too painful. Every time I dozed off, I would be awoken shortly after by the searing, throbbing, burn. It was a blinding pain, and it was non-stop. The damned thing kept me awake no matter how utterly exhausted both my mind and body were.

After hours and hours of restlessness, I gave up my pursuit of sleep and sat up, clenching my teeth and wincing as I did so. My body swayed with a combination of exhaustion and hunger. I hoped Rivers would come back with some ointment or that cooling bag again, but I didn't know if he'd be able to trick the guards and get into my cell undetected again to help ease the pain. It would probably be too risky. The thought of dealing with the burning all day without even the smallest bit of relief, had me dreading the hours ahead of me even more than usual. And that was saying something.

Benjamin was stirring slightly, so it wouldn't be long until he woke up. I set the palms of my hands behind me on the concrete and leaned back in an attempt to get more comfortable. Then I gasped as the movement pulled at my burnt and blistered skin. Since Benjamin was already beginning to rouse, the noise woke him up fully and immediately.

His eyes flew open and met mine. There was a fearful anticipation in them. He woke up believing that my gasp was the result of the guards entering my cell and laying hands on me. "It's okay." I reassured him quietly. "I'm okay." I hated seeing the worry in his eyes, hated that he had to wake up afraid.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, if we were anywhere else, I would've taken the time to cherish how utterly adorable he looked at that moment. But I was quickly reminded that we weren't anywhere else when Benjamin's concerned gaze traveled to my aching collarbone, which burned a bright, angry red. "No, you're not okay. I know that hurts. I've been burned before. But never branded. Never. Not even my sadistic family thought of doing that to me."

He looked back at my face, poorly concealed rage evident in his facial features. He focused his attention on my eyes now, probably noting the impossible to miss bags under them. I'm sure they were dark enough to blend in with the other bruises I was sure were scattered across my face. "You didn't sleep well?" He assumed, his question more of a statement.

"I don't ever sleep well here."

"But last night you slept worse than usual." he said, reading me like a book.

"You could say that." I responded.

He looked me up and down pausing on the clothing hanging loosely from my starving frame. His lip quivered. "Bethy, the last time I saw you like this..." He paused. "I haven't seen you this hungry, this bruised and beaten, since before we made it to the Outskirts, after those men- after they did what they did to you." He closed his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair, a sure sign that he was stressed, worried, upset. And he was beaten and bruised too. He was bruised from head to toe, his wrist broken, a few ribs probably broken too. Yet, he was forced to fight every single day.

I could tell that there was so much more he wanted to say, but there was nothing he could say to make anything better, nothing he could say to help the situation we were in. "It isn't going to be like that this time." I said, knowing he was now being consumed by thoughts of me at death's door.

We just had to hold on for a few more days. But that was so much easier said than done.

I began to wonder what I would do if there wasn't a plan to rescue me. What if I had actually been captured, and instead of feeling hopeful that I would be rescued in a few days, what if I knew I would be executed in a few days? I honestly don't know where my mindset would be if that were the case. If I was knocking on death's door again, but if this time, death was sure to answer. I don't know if I would've been able to to last this long, I definitely don't think I would be making it through these next few days.