Free Knight (An Impossible Novel) by Julia Sykes

Bastard had kept me in the dark, blindfolding me before he took me from my prison.  And I had been so desperate for my fix that I hadn’t been able to focus on anything else.  I had no concept of how much time had passed between leaving my dungeon and arriving at Decadence.
    “I don’t know,” I whispered.  “I’m sorry.”
    Clayton’s brow furrowed.  “Did you meet up with him at the club that night?  Where do you live?”
    “Here.”  This was my new home.
    “Where did you live, Jane?”  Clayton’s voice was cajoling, but the question penetrated my new sense of safety like dozens of needles pricking at my brain.  I didn’t want to remember.  I had resolved to bury the woman who had existed in that dungeon.  I couldn’t be her any longer.  A fine tremor ran through me as the scent of damp concrete and coppery blood filled my nostrils.
    “Answer him, girl,” Master spoke softly, but it was an order.
    “In the dark.  I lived in the dark.”
    Clayton shot a worried glance at Master.  “I know your addiction must make it difficult to recall, but I need for you to try to remember where you were before you came to Decadence.”
    Where was I before I had felt the sting of the needle for the first time?
    My mind shied away from it.  That was before I had been broken.  There was nothing before the darkness.
    But they wanted more from me.  My answer didn’t please them.
    “Can you describe your home to me?”  Clayton pressed.
    Home.
    That word meant little to me.  It was laughably incongruous with the dank misery in which I had existed.  But I had nothing else to give Clayton.
    “It was cold,” I whispered reluctantly, allowing the memory of that place to brush at the edges of my mind.  “I think it was underground.  It was always dark unless he was there.”
    The fury rolling off of Master was so powerful that I couldn’t bear to look at him.  Clayton’s expression was carefully neutral, but his knuckles were white where his clenched fist rested on his knee.  I was trying my best to give them what they wanted, but it still wasn’t enough.
    Answer him.  Master had ordered me to answer Clayton’s questions.
    I willed myself to fully return to the dungeon. Behind my closed eyelids, the image of my prison bloomed to life.  I shuddered as it solidified around me, and I was once again immersed in the horror of that place.
    “The walls and floor were concrete.  There was a cage.  A cross.  Chains.”
    Whips.   Bruises.  Tears.  Blood.
    I touched my fingers to my neck where I felt the phantom weight of my iron collar.
    “Pain.”
    So much pain.
    My lungs burned as I struggled to draw breath through my constricted windpipe.
    Large hands cupped my cheeks, their warmth pushing back the cold that had seeped into my veins.
    “Open your eyes, girl.”
    I did as ordered, and I found silver eyes staring down at me rather than muddy green ones.
    “Stay here with me,” Master commanded.  “Breathe.”
    I complied, drawing air into my oxygen-starved lungs.
    “How long were you there?” Clayton’s voice drifted down to me.
    I shook my head slightly.  I didn’t know.  Time meant nothing to me.  There was no time.  There was only the pain.  And that never ended.
    “That’s enough, Vaughn,” Master said sharply.
    “We need to know more, James,” Clayton replied firmly.  “It’s August 26, 2013,” he informed me.  “When did you first go to that place?”
    I had been there forever, for my entire existence.  She had arrived there.  She had a life before that place.
    She awoke in a cage.  She wanted to escape.  He beat her.  He raped her.
    “He took her there.  She tried to get out.  He wouldn’t let her go.  He hurt her.”
    A sob ripped its way up my throat.  I couldn’t remember her.  I couldn’t.
    Master’s arms wrapped around me, their strength enfolding me, sheltering me.  I buried my face against his chest, and my fingers twined into the fabric of his