I awake in complete darkness. My mouth tastes like bile. I try to sit up, but the nausea and throbbing headache shove me back down. I blink, trying to remember where I am, and why I am lying on a… what am I lying on? I knock on the cold metal surface and the sound echoes around me.
A memory flickers of Councilman Blaznek’s fist slamming into the side of my head. My pulse races and I sit up despite the pain. Where has he taken me?
I try to yell for help, but only a rattle of air escapes my swollen throat. I reach up and feel waxy stitches on my neck. The skin is stretched and numb. My hands fly to my mouth.
Of course. I am one of them, now. The silenced ones. I know too much and they have their way of dealing with those who know too much. I am somewhere deep in the black tunnels; that much is clear, now. That is where the silencing always happens.
I feel my neck again and my eyes sting with tears. I flip my legs over the edge of the table and my bare feet hit the cold, rock ground. My elbow bumps a metal tray and it crashes to the stone floor, followed by clinks of what I can only assume are operating tools. I cringe and wait for the last of the echoes to stop. I hold my breath, waiting. I can hear water dripping in the distance… and footsteps hurrying toward me.
I frantically feel my way through the void until my fingers meet a rock wall. Hand over hand, I move in the opposite direction, hoping to find an escape or at least a cranny to conceal myself. Instead, I’ve backed myself into a corner.
A flicker of light creeps through an opening in the wall beyond the operating table. It’s enough that I can see the size of the room. It’s not big enough, and there’s nowhere to hide. Shadows from the splayed tools dance on the ground before me as the light comes closer. I see the lantern before I see the man behind it.
Zane.
He looks at the empty table, and then up at me. Slowly, he approaches the table and sets the lantern on it. The light casts strange shadows on the scar on his neck. I hope my scar isn’t as ugly.
I want to scream, but no — he’s taken that away from me forever. I’m like him. Silent. Miserable. Trapped. I’ll never escape him in the tunnels. If I take a wrong turn, I could get stuck for hours, maybe even days. Or worse, I could get stuck under a rock fall or get burned alive by an acid vent. Stars, I hate this place.
I eye a scalpel on the ground behind Zane. He holds both hands up and shakes his head, warning me to keep my distance.
I lunge, knocking him to the ground. I throw my right fist toward his face and wince at the crack of bone on bone. He blocks my second blow with his forearm. I dive for the scalpel, but he yanks my legs back and pins me under his knees. He twists my arm with one hand, and uses the other to push the side of my face against the vinegar-mopped floor.
My sobs erupt as strange wheezes. He’s ruined me. Seventeen years old and I will never speak again. I will never sing, scream, groan, or laugh ever again.
He releases my arm and rolls me onto my back, looking down at me with pity. I hate him for it. I hate the council for sentencing me, and Zane for carrying out the punishment. I especially hate when he brushes back the hair that is stuck to the tears on my cheek, as if he is entitled to this moment of tenderness.
I shove his hand away, catching my breath. And then, everything changes.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asks.
Did I imagine it, or had he really spoken? His scars are still there — I am looking straight at them.
He tilts his head and waits, a hint of amusement tugging on the corner of his mouth. “I gave you an herb that relaxes the vocal chords for a few days. And,” he gestures to his neck, “a nice scar to appease the council.”
I let that sink in.
He watches me for a minute. “The herb makes you sick for a while, but you’ll be glad it works so well once the testing starts.” He squeezes his eyes shut when I give him a questioning look. “The council will send someone to begin the torture. The herb ensures you don’t scream and give away our secret.”
I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes.
He embraces me. “Shh, I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Live through this and I promise you the council will get what’s coming to them.” He pauses. “Because truth cannot be silenced.”
I have an ally. Despite the threat ahead, I smile.
