It was two or three in the morning, and Liam couldn’t sleep. Nightmares made rest uninviting, and even the few shots she’d done around midnight weren’t doing much to numb the guilt. Why hadn’t Lola talked to her? Worse, why hadn’t she talked to Lola? Why hadn’t she given the poor beast a reason to stay instead of stumbling away like an injured animal ready to die? Her fingers tinkered endlessly with the radios, like if she could just figure out the right frequency she could broadcast her voice into the past and beg the girl to stay, just stay, don’t go.
Sobbing. Quiet and broken. Weak and empty, like the person had been crying for hours.
Lola’s eyes wouldn’t focus on the world around her, too tired and hungry, with the left one swelling from a particularly vicious blow to the face. She could feel the tears on her face. She had long since bridged the gap from defiant prisoner to pathetic play thing, and she hated it.
Another voice, familiar in that bone-chilling way. “What wrong sweetheart? Shh, shh..”
Liam felt like she might vomit. Was that mercy’s voice? She wanted to scream for Sean or Connie or Isaiah, but instead her hand trembled as she stared at the radio in her hand, only half believing what was happening as Lola’s voice came through the static-ridden frequency.
“I’m so tired…Please… Just let me sleep…”
And She hated how her voice sounded when she begged, but there was nothing contrary left in her as the burns stung and her stomach ached out of emptiness. Nails dug into her neck, cutting vicious crescent moons that made her yelp like a terrified animal and she cried harder and begged more.
“Please Mercy, please, just an hour, please, just let me sleep, please I just-“ And then screaming, not in fear, but the deep guttural way you scream when you are in agony.
It was the same scream Liam had heard a hundred times on the radio, listening to the resistance members being mauled alive by hellhounds and ghouls because of one wrong turn and Liam wished she could have warned them, and now she was helpless again, listening to Lola as the sharp cry broke into hysterical cries and Mercy mocked her.
“What do you dream about now, Lola? What is there left to dream about? You know you’re never getting out of here. You’re mine now. My good dog.”
And the pain made Lola see white, made her vision worse and she thrashed against her restraints and struck out with her legs as best she could with her wrists bound. Her heart hammered alarmingly in her chest, and the words Mercy said may have made her vomit if she had anything inside her stomach but blood- blood only half hers, and she could still feel the angel in her, the angel screaming too.
“Fine, sleep, but remember sweetheart, no one is coming for you.”
When Liam woke her head was in her arms, tears dried to her face. She never knew if she dreamed it or not.
