Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Sixty: Challenge

"Arlen. Arl." There was an iron band around his chest, holding him back. Someone had him pinned to the wall. He always ended up against the fucking wall. "Look at me."

There was another one around his wrist, pinning his hand to the boards. He could feel breath on his face, hot and smelling of booze, and he renewed his struggles. He knew what came next and he didn't want it, he never wanted it, he wished he could curl up in a ball and just die one night, but he kept waking up every fucking morning in the same fucking places with the same fucking bastards who'd captured him and it was never going to end he was never going to get out he would never ever be free of this place—

A heavy impact on one side of his face shook the thoughts from his head. The blow made itself known seconds later, rushing in as pins and needles, then ice cold, then burning pain. He worked his jaw and looked up into Usk's eyes, his shock mirrored in the Varthian's face.

"That hurt," he said.

"Well," Usk grimaced, "so did this." He stepped back a little so Arlen could see the red-edged tear in his shirt and the gash along his ribs. By the brute's enormous foot lay Arlen's dagger. "Sorry, Arl. Nothing else worked."

Usk stepped back, releasing his grip, but he didn't move far. Arlen watched him, unable to connect the dots. His brain wouldn't restart. He'd been somewhere else, somewhere from years before, somewhere he'd sworn never to go back to, and yet he was still in the storeroom, and the captive was still in the corner, that awful, beautiful face now decorated with a sizeable cut across one cheek and a thunderous scowl.

"Generally, you give a captive a chance to answer the question before you involve the blades," she said, and a streak of blood leaked from the wound and ran down her neck.

"I think it would be best," Usk growled darkly, "if you kept your mouth shut. I may not save you a second time."

The Angel glared and spat onto the boards at their feet.

"I don't want her here," Arlen said. His voice disgusted him, tremoring and quiet. "I don't care if she's got the key to all my problems, I won't have her here. Get rid, and make sure no one's going to find her any time soon."

The Angel finally looked nervous, panic flashing across her face like lightning. "No, wait. I'll talk. I said I'd talk."

"I don't care." He still couldn't force his voice above a murmur.

"Vestra," the Angel cursed, looking angry now, "What is it with you humans? You can never make your minds up."

"Arl," Usk said. "A word outside?"

He considered refusing. He couldn't stop staring at the woman in the corner, the woman who still didn't show even the slightest hint that she knew who he was. After a minute, he nodded. He still felt strangely light, his limbs oddly locked-up, as he followed Usk out of the room. He barely registered the others watching as they left.

"What happened..." Jes began. His voice trailed off.

"Later," Usk growled, without missing a step. Arlen walked past without looking at any of them. How could he, after he'd lost control like that?

"Did you have to hit me quite so hard?" he muttered, as they exited onto the street outside the boarding house, and a cool breeze set his cheek to throbbing. Then he saw the gash on Usk's side in the light and didn't push it when the Varthian didn't answer.

"Arl," Usk said, after a moment of strained silence. It was rare that he sounded so tense, so rare that Arlen was forced to look up. It took him a minute to place the look on his face as fear. "Arl, you're going to have to tell me what just happened."