Chapter Twenty-Two

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Chapter Twenty-Two

The hallucinations started.

It started out small. The rancid meat turned into bugs once. I could feel them creeping and crawling all over me to the point where I started smashing my fist against the stones to kill them, only to hear the torturers talking about how I was punching the meat into the stones. I swore once my fingers had all been cut off, but confirmed it was a hallucination when I grabbed at the hot poker going for my face. Although, now my fingers were burned and the skin blistered and healed wrong so now I couldn't open my hand anymore.

Then I dreamt of Petros. Of our hours spent on the river side fishing. The sweet scent of summer in the air, crisp clean waters, freshly churned soil from our sandaled feet. Petros's laughter, his head tossing back as he took my bitter jokes in stride and threw back with one of his ever positive quotes.

"Why must we fish all day?" Petros asked me once with a heavy sigh, sitting back on his hands with his fishing rod planted between his feet. He tossed his hair back over his shoulder, the shades of blonde among the nest of brown flashing in the sunlight. He yawned widely, showing off his pearly white teeth before casting me a droll stare. I shrugged, looking back out at the water, listening to the soft trickle of it over smooth river rocks.

"We must eat. But you do not have to if you do not want to," I answered softly, searching the waters for fish that were eyeing our bait curiously. Petros glanced at me.

"Would you be sad if I left?"

"I fished long before you were even born."

"That was not my question," Petros sang, tilting his head to look at me. I didn't want to tell him that my heart would break not seeing him here every day, catching fish to sell in the market, sharing our intimate silences. I'd grown accustomed to Petros being a constant in my life. The very thought of him no longer being by my side crushed me.

"Well?" Petros asked. I stared at the water.

"You are scaring the fish."

"You did not answer my question."

"I did. You just did not like the answer. Now hush, else we lose our catch of the day and you will miss another chance to see the young Theora," I reminded. Petros blushed lightly, a lovely shade of rose across dark cheeks. He cleared his throat and shifted.

"I have no wish to see the woman."

"You are lying."

"How do you know?"

"Because your nose twitches and you look in the upper left hand corner when you lie. Also, you blushed. And every time we go to the market, we end up at her stall."

"My, are you not perceptive," Petros said dryly, then shook his head, "It is not what you think, I assure you. She is... crass. Her temper flares over nothing. She is unbelievably loud and I still am not accustomed to a female of her kind." I felt my lips twitch at his specifics. If he wasn't such a big fan of her, why notice such things at all? Petros was attracted to all those traits, but not in the way he worded them.

He was amused by her crudity, awed by her courage, proud of her voice, and he loved how ahead of her time she truly was. And let's face it; Theora was beautiful and his eyes followed her everywhere. And when they weren't following her, they were seeking her out.

I was both amused and broken by his attention towards her. I ached to feel his eyes on me the way they followed Theora. I wondered what it felt like to have those large hands on my body, feel his thick muscles rippling beneath my fingers, his soft plump lips against mine. I'd fantasized about Petros the moment we met. His beauty swept me off my feet first, and slowly, I grew to adore his personality, like that of a child so accustomed to a staunch lifestyle, then when introduced to freedom, he toed the waters nervously.

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