Cage

I’ve been staring at her ever since she came back. She hasn’t flinched, let alone move from the bed since she was put back into her prison by Father. I wonder how she’s doing and if she’s hurt. If she’s sleeping … and what she’s dreaming about.

I wonder where she went. She was gone a very long time, and he seemed quite upset. He was even raging at me, despite the fact I didn’t do anything to cause him to get angry.

I think she may have done something irrevocable. Something no one can take back.

Why else would he walk away without even speaking to me?

When she groans, I perch up to see if she’s awake. Her muscles tense, and she takes a deep breath, coughing right after. I check for blood but see none. He must’ve fixed her up like he always does with me when I get hit too many times by my opponents.

She leans up on her elbow, so I get up from my bed and walk toward the glass, placing a hand against it to let her know I’m here. The moment our eyes lock, she frowns and looks away. Something watery sparkles in her eyes, and the drops begin to roll down her cheeks again.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice low because I’m anxious, but I don’t want to upset her further.

She doesn’t respond, just shakes her head and buries her face in her hands. She stays like that for minutes maybe, and when her face appears again, it’s completely red and covered in wetness.

I swallow away the lump in my throat, trying to shake the uneasiness from her sadness, but it won’t go away. I wish I could pull her into my arms and hold her tight. Tell her everything would be all right.

But she’s there … and I’m here … separated by impenetrable glass.

I hate it.

Licking my lips, I cock my head and gaze at her legs. There doesn’t seem to be any more blood but best ask just to be sure. “Blood?”

She shakes her head again. “It was my period.”

“Period?” I frown. Never heard of that before.

“It happens every month … to girls.”

Every month? To girls? She’s not making any sense to me. Father never told me about this.

When she sees my confused face, she opens her mouth again.

“We bleed from the same entrance you use to … have sex,” she says, clearing her throat and rubbing her arms. “It’s to prepare us for having babies.”

Babies. Now that word I do know. Father always hammered on about how he wanted me to make them, but I never understood how. Just that I was supposed to fuck the girls that came in, so I do. Ella and I did, so does that mean she will get pregnant now?

“I’m not pregnant,” she says, looking up at me with despair.

Does that mean my fucking didn’t work? Or did something happen? Was it the bleeding? Or was I too rough?

“It’s not your fault. This is natural.” She shrugs. “Sometimes girls get pregnant; sometimes they don’t.”

She sighs out loud and pulls her legs up to her waist, clutching them tight as she sits on the bed. She seems to be inside her head, but I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to know what Father did to her if the bleeding is natural. Why he had to take her.

“Explain,” I say, sitting down on the floor in front of the glass.

“What? The bleeding? I just did.”

“Father took you,” I say.

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. Instead, her eyes go back and forth between me and the floor until she can’t hold it in any longer. “He wants me to become pregnant.”

I nod.

“You knew?” she asks, her brows drawing together.

I nod again. Father forbid me from telling her anything.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, rubbing her forehead. “Of course. You just never understood why and what it means.”

“What did he do?” I ask her.

She ponders it for a moment. “He … probed me on the inside.” She swallows.

I can tell it’s difficult for her to discuss. If she means what I think she means, it means he touched her in a way that made her feel bad. In a place only I’m supposed to go.

Just the thought of it makes me ball my hands into fists. How dare he do that to her.

“I … I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

I look up, shaking off my anger. Did she just say she was sorry? “What?”

“I …” She bursts out into sniffles again, and I don’t know what’s wrong.

“Tell me,” I say, cocking my head, hoping to catch her attention.

“I tried to run,” she says, barely able to look me in the eyes.

“He was mad …” I say, frowning, only now realizing why.

He wasn’t mad at me. He was mad at her for doing something he didn’t want her to do.

“I fled. Outside,” she says.

“Outside,” I mumble, remembering she said that word before. I only know the ‘outside’ of this cage. The few rooms that are here and beyond. But I get the feeling she means far beyond that. The bigger world … where she came from.

Did she try to go back there?

“Why?” I ask.

A harshness boils up inside me that I can’t put into words. A kind of … betrayal. If she fled, that means she wanted to get away from here. Away from … me.

“Away from me?” I ask, my voice changing in pitch because it hurts me to know this. To know she was almost gone, and I wouldn’t even have had the chance to say goodbye. That she wouldn’t even think of taking me or even telling me.

“I’m sorry …” she mumbles again, her cheeks stained with wetness. “I wanted to … I wanted to take you with me, but I didn’t have any time.”

I cross my arms. “Don’t want to go.”

She stares at me for a few seconds before bursting out into a strange laughter, followed by headshakes and more wet drops rolling down her cheeks.

“Of course, you’d say that,” she says. “You don’t know any better.”

“Better?” I ask. “That world better than me?”

She licks her lips, her face contorting with guilt. “Look … I don’t know anymore, okay? I like you, I honestly do, but I like … my world too. I miss home.”

Home. I know that word. This is my home. The place I was born. The only place I know. It’s where I feel most comfortable at. Maybe she misses that. Comfort.

And I believed I could give her that comfort. That I could give her anything she’d ever need. Guess I was wrong.

I look away and get up from the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, but I don’t know what to do with her words.

I don’t know what it means to be with her when she wants to be somewhere else. Does she even like me as much as I like her? Could she ever want me the way I want her when she never chose to be here in the first place?

No.

I chose for her to be here.

It’s my fault she’s here.

That’s why I fight so desperately for her acceptance. For her to crave me back.

Because once I stop fighting for that, once I give up … all that’s left is the guilt deep inside my heart, knowing it was my choice to bring her here.

I picked her.

And I bear the weight of that decision.

“Please … don’t go … don’t … please talk to me,” she says, still sniffing, reaching for the window. “I can’t be alone, not in here. Please. I need you.”

Her pleas break me. Force me to turn around as I sit down on the bed and gaze at her, wondering how I can fix this brokenness that I feel inside me.

“Tell me …” I say with a low voice, unable to push myself to speak louder. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” she says. “No … I mean … yes, but I don’t know.” She sighs and shakes her head. “It’s so confusing.”

“Yes or no?”

“It’s not as easy as that. Liking you has nothing to do with being out there in the real world.” She slams her hand down on the floor. “I wish I could explain the concept of freedom to you, but I can’t. Dammit.”

“Freedom … is outside. Without me. You want that?”

“No … of course not.” She shakes her head. “Listen, Cage … I like you, but it’s not right.”

I make a face. “Not right?”

Is she saying she doesn’t want me anymore?

“That sounded harsher than I meant. I’m sorry,” she says, sighing again. “God, why does it have to be so hard?”

“It’s not,” I reply.

“Yes, it is. It’s not a question of liking you or not. It’s not as simple as a yes or no question.”

“I don’t agree,” I growl.

She raises a brow at me. “Really?”

I shrug and rub the back of my neck. I really don’t understand why she’s making it so difficult. She can either like me or not, but she’s in here, stuck with me. There is no choice. I took that away from her.

Sighing, I clutch my hands together and let my head down. That’s just it, really. That’s why she’s so upset. It’s my fault she’s stuck in here. I picked her.

“I’m sorry …” I mumble.

“What?”

I look up at her shocked face. “For choosing you.”

She licks her lips, and her eyes fill up with water again, but she brushes it away. Nodding, she bites her lips. “I understand. You made a choice. It’s as simple as that. You didn’t know what you were doing,” she says. “Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself in my head.”

She lets out a pitiful laugh, one I’ve come to expect when she’s uncomfortable.

I don’t want her to feel that way.

“It’s okay,” I say, smiling softly.

She smiles back. “Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment before she begins again. “I really didn’t want to leave you here, you know. I know it’s not fair to say that, but I didn’t want to abandon you. But you … you like it here, right? It’s all you know. This is your home. He’s your father.”

I shrug. I understand what she means, but Father isn’t all that either. I used to look up to him, used to make him want to be proud. But now? After sharing a cage with her for so long, I finally learn there’s more than one side to him. That he can be unkind to anyone who gets between him and his target. Even if it’s my girl, my Ella. And I’m not sure I’m going to allow that to ever happen again.

Because deep down in my heart, I can feel the burning fire that I feel whenever I look at her. Think of her. Dream of her. I feel that only for her. And nothing he does can get close to that.

I want her. I want to keep feeling that, and I’ll do anything in my power to keep it.

Even if it means going against him.

Maybe I am at a point where I have to make a choice. Just like she did.

She made the choice to run, and even if he did catch her, she still ran away without me. That was her choice. I wish she’d stayed, but that’s my feelings toward her. I can’t force her to feel the same.

But still, I can’t help but wonder … why didn’t she think of me?

“You left me?” I ask.

She licks up some of the drops rolling down her lips. “There is a padlock on the door, Cage.”

I narrow my eyes, confused at that word. Padlock? Never heard of it before.

“It’s a lock, like on the black door, you know? It can’t be opened without knowing how.”

Now I understand. She couldn’t open the door from the outside because only Father knows how.

“He’s the only one who knows how to open the door. He knows the code; I don’t. I couldn’t … I couldn’t take you with me. I’m sorry,” she repeats.

I lift a hand. I don’t want to hear that word anymore.

Enough is enough.

I understand. She followed her instincts. I do the same when it comes to her. It’s only natural.

After all, this place would turn anyone into a beast.

Even the most innocent of all.