Page 119 of Death is Familiar

It got Three talking.

“Have you ever watched this many cartoons in a row before, Two?”

“If we keep watching, we’re sure to break a world record.” I didn’t tell her that it would be the world record for cartoons watched being held in an underground facility while being held captive by a cult. But I wasn’t about to bother her with semantics.

“Really? Do you think?” Three flipped onto her stomach kicking her heels in the air, like a girl gossiping at a sleepover. “Wow, a world record holder.” She drifted off into her own mind for a moment, an animated bird running circles on the television, before she changed the subject. “I’ve never had a sister who wanted to watch them with me before. Isn’t it exciting?”

In the time I spent conscious while in captivity, I’d learned to pay close attention to Three’s choice of words. When she said she’d never had a sister who wanted to watch cartoons with her before, it wasn’t that I was the first ‘sister’ to be locked down here with her. No, I got the distinct impression that my cell had a previous owner, and based on the songs Three sang during nearly every non-cartoon-filled moment, I suspected it once belonged to One.

“Two, Two, I said isn’t it exciting?”

Beyond the dread-filled thoughts about the person who occupied my cell before me, and what became of her, my whole body ached—for the last two or so days I just couldn’t get comfortable—so whatever I was feeling wasn’t excitement. “I think… this is fun, but there are a lot of fun things we can do together.”

“Like what?” That was almost too easy.

“Like tell each other stories.”

“Oh, I love stories, what kind of stories? I like the ones that have princesses and cute animals. But no kissing frogs, because it’s gross.”

“Stories from our lives, so we can get to know each other a little better. Sister to sister.” I shifted. “Like what our lives were like before we were in these cages together.”

“Oh.” Three’s face dropped, her brows furrowed, she pulled at the threads in the blanket in front of her. “But all of my stories are from here. I’ve always been here.”

My heart sank. I’d expected as much, but suspecting and knowing were two very different beasts. If she lived her life in a cage, it was no wonder she was emotionally ten years old.

Which made my leash with the FBI look like a day at a theme park, and⁠—

And I didn’t want to think about the freedoms Mads touted he had bestowed on me. How I should be grateful for his benevolence.

But I was starting to realize, slowly but surely, I could have had it much much worse. And not known any different.

“You’ve always been in here?”

“Always.” She watched me fidget, and reposition myself for about a minute before she said, “Can’t get comfortable?”

“Not really.”

“It’s probably the baby, you know, something about the hormones.”

“You’re probably right, but that isn’t making me any more comfortable.”

“You’re lucky you know that?” She inched her way closer on her elbows. “You have the Seal inside you. You are going to change the world.”

Doubtful. “To be honest, Three, I don’t really care about that at the moment. My whole body feels like it needs to run and rest at the same time, and it’s…”

“Frustrating?”

“Very.” This gave me an opening. Both Three and Warden White had been unreasonably adamant that I not get a blanket. There had to be a reason, so I pushed, “But maybe if I had a blanket…”

“I can’t give you a blanket, Two.”

“My name is Delilah.” It took everything in me not to rub at my eyes. “I prefer you call me that.”

“No, no. No.” Three scrunched her nose and shook her head. “You are Two, and you can’t. It’s against the rules.”

“You have like five blankets, why can’t I have one?”

I don’t know what I did, or what I said, but Three spontaneously and completely burst into tears. A full-on wailing sob.