afflicted

34: Callie, present day

If her assumptions were correct, it'd been close to a week since Callie had eaten. She was lucky enough that it'd rained a lot in the last few days and a corner of her cell happened to have a small hole that allowed the rainwater to drip down. She'd tried not to think about how unsanitary it was and just focused on surviving. Hunger pangs gripped her stomach in an iron fist, twisting and reminding her just how hollow she was.

Maeve hadn't visited her cell or sent her men since she'd thrown her in here. It was almost as though she'd forgotten about Callie, or that she wasn't very high up on her priority list. She supposed Maeve thought every member of the Night Court was dead, so she didn't really need any information Callie could give, not that Callie had any to offer anyway.

While she'd been in her cell, she'd attempted to practice her healing as much as she could, but most of her energy had been sapped. She would roughly scratch her arm and then focus her energy on healing the small wound so she could get used to what mental muscles she needed to use to actually make her new-found powers useful.

A small sound came from the furthest corner. The darkness was so deep there that Calina's eyes couldn't penetrate it. But she'd heard something. She knew she had. It had been deafeningly silent down here aside from the steady drip of the leak. She stared for minutes, straining her eyes until she started to see flashes in the darkness. Sighing, she gave up and closed her eyes, laying her head against the cold, damp stone.

She was sleeping within minutes, the dreams pouring through her mind in vivid color. But they were all from some other time with people she didn't recognize. Most of them involved a long-haired blonde with a wicked smile. Callie couldn't remember ever seeing her before, but she must have known her well once.

In her dream, the blonde turned to her, her golden sunshine smile fading away to creased brows and worried eyes. Her lips parted like she was moments from screaming.

Callie, she said, voice strained.

Callie blinked at her, unsure of how to respond to this woman she'd once known but was now a stranger to. The blonde grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her back and forth as though trying to snap Callie out of a daze.

Wake up, Callie, she urged, voice shaking with panic as her breathing hitched and faltered. She kept looking behind Callie, like she saw something behind her that Callie couldn't. Callie couldn't turn around, though. She was frozen in place, eyes locked on the woman.

You have to wake up Callie, please, she cried, tears streaming down her tanned cheeks. The sight made Callie feel like she'd been kicked in the gut, but she had no clue why. Callie's brows furrowed as she attempted to ground herself.

"Callie!" The word was in a shouted whisper, making Callie's eyes snap open, body shooting up straight and on alert. The chains around her ankle rattled and clanked as she moved. Callie squinted into the darkness but could see nothing. She crept forward, noticing the dark cloud like shadows creeping across the floor in wispy tendrils.

Callie's hands wrapped around the bars of her cell, placing her face as close as she could as she searched the darkness. She saw a figure moving there, getting closer to her. Her heart stuttered as she saw a pair of men's combat shoes walk forward and out of the darkness. She knew they'd come to torture her eventually. She kept her eyes to the ground, wanting to make herself as small and unassuming as possible. She had no intentions of invoking more violence on herself. She already knew she was in no shape to fight. She wouldn't struggle. She would bide her time until escape was possible. If it ever would be. And once she was out, she would kill Maeve, or die trying.

The man's shoes stopped in front of the barred gate and bent down to Callie's level. Callie fell backwards onto her ass with a smack when she saw the man's face. His eyes were an intense shade of violet, his dark hair short and falling in his eyes.

"No," Callie said, eyes welling with tears. Had she really gone this insane so soon? She'd developed visual and auditory hallucinations after only being held down here for a week? Sick hallucinations at that. She was seeing ghosts. Her gut churned with guilt and nausea.

"Callie," the man said, voice soft and gentle as she fought the panic seizing her from all sides. She felt like she was going into a panic attack. Because before her was a man she knew was dead.

"No," she pleaded, shaking her head as she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut in hopes that all would be normal once she opened her eyes. She had no wish to see the dead. She couldn't imagine what horrible things he would have to say to her from beyond the grave.

"She's worse than I'd hoped," he sighed over his shoulder, gripping the bars in front of him to remain upright. Callie buried her face in her hands, trying to force her mind anywhere else but here.

"Unsurprising," another voice said, this one more arrogant and uninterested. "Look at this place." The man emerged from the same darkness, cropped vibrant orange hair and pale skin spackled with freckles. This one, Callie didn't think she'd ever seen before, but she couldn't be sure.

"Callie, can you stand?" The first man said, and Callie's body wracked with another round of sobs. It was cruel even for her own mind to try and trick her into believing she was being rescued. Or perhaps these visions were Maeve's doing? Callie knew she could play mind tricks and she was inhumane enough to find a sickening joy in watching Callie believe she was safe, only to pull the rug from under her feet.

"You can't be here," Callie laughed a humorless laugh, hands knotting roughly into her hair, attempting to bring herself back to reality with the sting on her scalp as she pulled at the roots.

"I told you this was not the best option," the red-haired one snarked. The one with raven's black hair glared over his shoulder at his partner. He turned to look back at Callie, still crouched. He looked so pained, like something was sucking all of the life from him where he stooped.

"Forgive me for wishful thinking," the violet eyed man said. "I was hoping to reduce her trauma in any way." He held his hand out to the man behind him, who handed him a corked bottle of a midnight blue liquid.

"Callie, can you drink this for me?" He asked, holding the bottle through the bars of her cell. Callie rose her head, her eyes burning from the saltiness of her tears, and hesitantly took the bottle from him. She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks. The worst scenario was that it was a poison, which wouldn't be so bad at this point. The best-case scenario would be that it contained any calories at all. Deciding she no longer cared, she unstopped the bottle, dropping the cork to the floor as she used both hands to lift it to her mouth, pouring it down her throat with a few swallows.

It carved a path of warmth down her throat and into her stomach, where it settled. Callie hummed at the lovely heat, placing her hand on her belly. She lay on her side, curling into herself as she felt each of her limbs grow heavy. Her entire body felt like it was buzzing with static, and her teeth felt numb. She laughed to herself softly as she closed her eyes, feeling the darkness carry her away from her body once more.