Chapter 7: The Cellar

The bolt slid home on the other side, and the dark was total.

I knew the room without seeing it.

Down the stone steps, a wet floor, a drain in the middle, and an iron ring set into the back wall at the height of a woman's wrists.

I put my back against the wall and slid down it until I was sitting.

My hands found the floor, and it was cold and slick, and it smelled exactly the same.

Somewhere in the dark, a drip fell, and then another one.

I told myself that I could count.

I got to six, and I could not get to seven, because the air had gone thick.

I opened my mouth and nothing came in.

My own hands were scraping at my collar, and I could not stop them.

Up above me, through the floor, I felt something hit the cord like a fist.

It was fear, and it was not mine.

It was Caleb's.

I heard him on the stairs a moment later, running, and then the bolt dragged back and light flooded down the steps from his lantern.

He took the last four stairs at a jump and went down on his knees in front of me.

"Kestrel."

I could not answer him.

"Look at me. Breathe. Look at me."

It was the same calm voice that had spoken to me down here in my first life while he hurt me.

I flinched so hard that my head cracked against the stone, and I heard him make a sound.

"Don't," I said, but there was no air in it.

"It's me. It's just me."

"That's what's wrong."

I had no idea what he made of that.

My vision had gone to white at the edges, and my knees buckled when I tried to stand, and he caught me.

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