Page 141 of Caged

What did I do? Have I already said this?

The words flit through my brain, half of them tumbling out of my mouth while the other half fade away. “Downstairs… He’s—I had to—had to give him.”

What am I trying to say?

I have to give Caelan a warning. That’s it. I have to stay awake. Warn Caelan when he gets here. Tell him to try another night.

I’ll be fine. I can survive in this house a while longer. As long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters.

The hands holding the light turn rigid.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

That voice. I know it somehow. I just heard it somewhere. In my dreams?

No. In the hall.

Silas. That voice belongs to Silas, and the other belongs to Gav. The one with the deep voice that sounds like rocks tumbling in a jar.

Rocks tumbling like my thoughts are tumbling.

I giggle, imagining my thoughts as a million pebbles turning over and over, bouncing off of each other and the sides of my skull in a chaotic jumble.

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

“I said,” Silas growls, “What the fuck did you just say?!”

I frown. I don’t like how angry he sounds. He’s so mad. Just like father. Father is always mad. Unless he gets what he wants. Even then, he’s always mad at me.

“Father wanted—” I try again, but the thoughts—the words—scatter. Just like the pebbles Gav shakes around in his jar.

I wonder if he can open the jar and scoop out my pebbles.

He can read them, so I don’t have to keep struggling to speak.

“He was trying to—going to—what he wanted. So mad…”

“Gav,” Silas’ voice is cutting. “Are you hearing this shit?”

There’s a long pause that feels heavy and suffocating. I have the strange sense that the entire world has stilled on its axis, waiting for this male to speak.

Someone exhales, long and low and full of disappointment.

“I heard,” Gav answers. “I fucking heard. Damnit.”

“We should⁠—”

“Get her in the shower. Wake her up. I want to hear her say it again when she’s more coherent.”

Strong hands grab me under the arms and haul me upright. The pain in my head intensifies, the world spinning behind closed eyes. Everything tilts as I’m dragged across the bathroom floor.

The butterflies return, landing soft as wishes. I try to catch them, but my hands pass through the air as they slip away. This time, they flit from pebble to pebble like blue and purple and silver smoke. As they move, the pebbles spin and fall and bounce against each other, but the butterflies don’t mind.

They collide and fragment, then turn to dust between one breath and the next. The butterflies drift on, indifferent. They flap their wings and the dust scatters and rises, caught in currents of air I can’t see. It drifts away, chasing the butterflies into a dark night sky that’s vacant of stars.

I reach out my arms, desperate to follow the dust, or the butterflies, or both.

I only need to rest, just for a little while.