Chapter 2
“What were you in prison for?”
Vi flinched, spinning around at the voice that interrupted her thoughts. Her heart pounded in her chest when she saw Tobias standing in the doorway, watching her. She’d been in the library, just flipping through the books Caitlyn had said she could read anything she wanted. Nothing was off-limits, she was assured. But now, Tobias was standing in front of her, making her feel suddenly exposed.
Her mouth went dry, and her palms started to sweat as she clutched the book a little tighter. What was the right answer? What answer would satisfy him?
“Mr. Kiramman, I—” Vi stammered, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t say the workshop accident, not when it wasn’t the full truth. She couldn’t say the explosion had been an accident, couldn’t admit the truth of it, couldn’t even figure out how to make it sound like something that wasn’t her fault. So she said nothing instead, feeling the pressure of his gaze grow heavier with every passing second.
“Vi,” Tobias said her name again, his voice was firm, almost impatient, as if he were done with her hesitation. “What were you in prison for?”
The question felt like a trap.
“I—” Vi tried again, her voice barely a whisper, and she almost hated herself for how shaky it sounded. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—I don’t know. To keep me quiet, I guess.”
She could feel the weight of his stare on her, heavy and unrelenting. The book in her hands felt like a lifeline, and she gripped it tighter.
“How long was your sentence?” he asked.
Vi’s shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t think they ever planned on letting me out.”
The thought haunted her. She had believed she would never see the outside world again, that death would come long before they ever gave her the chance for freedom.
“You’re about Caitlyn’s age, aren’t you?” Tobias asked, his eyes narrowing, and for the first time, she saw something like suspicion flicker in his expression.
Vi’s stomach churned. Why was he asking this? What did he want to know about her age? She didn’t know how old she was anymore, didn’t know what mattered anymore. “I think so,” she replied.
She had stopped counting the days a long time ago. Time didn’t make sense when every moment felt like it could be her last.
Tobias leaned against the doorframe, his gaze still fixed on her. “You would have had to do something horrible to be imprisoned so young,” he said, the bitterness clear in his voice now. “What did you do to earn it?”
Vi’s breath caught. What did she do to earn it? She had been born in the wrong place, raised in the wrong conditions, and that had been enough. Enough for them to lock her away.
“Be born in the Fissures, I guess,” she mumbled.
Tobias blinked, his face twisting in confusion. He didn’t get it. How could he? He wasn’t from her world. He didn’t understand how it worked.
“You would have been a child,” he said, his tone almost incredulous. "That makes no sense."
Vi let out a sharp laugh, but it held no humor. She didn’t even recognize the sound. “That’s never stopped anybody before.”
For a moment, Tobias seemed at a loss for words. Vi didn’t care. She didn’t care if he understood. She had learned long ago that nothing she said would ever change the way people like him saw her.
The last touch kind touch that Vi gave before Stillwater had been to her baby sister. It was a fleeting, almost unconscious gesture. Just a soft caress of Powder's face as she turned to leave, convinced she’d be back soon to hold her sister close. She thought they'd both be safe. But she hadn’t known then how wrong she’d been.
The last violent touch that Vi gave was also to her baby sister. She smashed her fist against her sister’s face and blood dribbled from her nose like tears.
Jinx’s nose was slightly crooked. So slight that nobody would probably notice if they weren’t looking for it. But Vi’s eyes soaked it up just like the rest of her sister’s face. She knew she was the cause.
Stillwater had seemed to strip away Vi’s ability to feel anything but anger. She had become numb to anything else, had learned to accept only hands that were meant to hurt, meant to control.
The first kind touch Vi had felt in what felt like forever came from Caitlyn. The back of her fingers brushing against Vi’s cheek. It startled her, like a foreign sensation she didn’t know how to handle. It felt wrong. She felt guilty for receiving it. She had caused so much damage and pain, and yet Caitlyn tried to offer her the comfort of touch.
There were times when Caitlyn would hesitate before touching her, like she needed permission, but then there were other times when it seemed like instinct, her fingers brushing against Vi’s skin, as if they had known each other for years.
Vi would hold Caitlyn when she cried, and Caitlyn would run her fingers through Vi’s hair, and neither of them ever talked about it.
In Stillwater, touch had always been a reminder of her helplessness, of her body as a tool to be controlled. She had learned to shut it out, to dissociate from it. But Caitlyn’s touch was different. It wasn’t about taking from her. It wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t meant to hurt. It was a gift, and Vi wasn’t sure she knew how to accept it.
Vi was sitting in Caitlyn’s office in a chair, a book from the library in her lap as Caitlyn sifted through all the papers that detailed her stepping up as head of the Kiramman family. Tobias was in no condition to take over.
Vi kept glancing over at Caitlyn, watching her chew on her lower lip hard as she flipped through pages, the weight of responsibilities pressing down on her. Vi wished she knew what to say but instead settled back and focused on making her way through the book she plucked.
Time passed slowly, and Vi started to feel drowsy. Her limbs grew heavy as she sprawled in the chair, her legs slung over the side, book half-lowered in her lap. Caitlyn had gotten up at one point, but Vi hadn’t really paid much attention. She glanced up briefly, but Caitlyn seemed fine—no hurry, no visible stress. So, Vi let her be.
When Caitlyn returned, Vi hadn’t noticed at first. Her focus was on the book, her eyes glued to the page, though her mind had wandered. She heard Caitlyn stop beside her, and it was then that she looked up.
Caitlyn reached out and Vi held still, her breath trapped in her chest just like every time Caitlyn touched her. Caitlyn’s thumb brushed across her cheek, and the motion was so light, so careful, that Vi didn’t know what to do with the wave of feeling it sparked.
Then Caitlyn leaned forward, and Vi’s heart stuttered in her chest. Caitlyn tilted her head up slightly, and before Vi could fully comprehend what was happening, Caitlyn pressed her lips to Vi’s forehead. The touch was brief, fleeting, but it was enough to send a shudder through Vi’s whole body.
Vi couldn’t remember the last time someone kissed her face like that. Certainly before Stillwater. Maybe Powder, though she favored clumsy kisses to the cheek. She thought it might have been her mom.
Caitlyn pulled back, and Vi stayed frozen, her eyes wide, not sure if she could speak, not sure if she was even allowed to feel what she was feeling. “Vi?” Caitlyn’s voice was soft, laced with concern. “Are you okay?”
Vi didn’t understand the question at first. Why would she not be okay? It was just a kiss, just a simple touch, but then Caitlyn’s thumb brushed across her cheek again, and Vi felt something wet there, something she hadn’t expected. The warmth of tears.
“Oh.” Vi felt ashamed at tearing up for something as stupid and simple as a forehead kiss. “Yeah. M’fine.”
Caitlyn studied her with that same softness, as though she didn’t quite know where the boundaries were, as though she were afraid she had crossed some line. Vi wasn’t sure where that line lay either. She had never been good at knowing where she stood with people, especially with someone like Caitlyn.
Caitlyn studied her for a moment as if unsure what to do next. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice uncertain, like she was afraid she had crossed some invisible line.
“I’m sure.” Vi reached up, carefully hooking her fingers over Caitlyn’s wrists but didn’t push them away. “I just… I can’t ‘member the last time someone did something like that.”
Caitlyn hummed quietly, her eyes studying Vi for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I…” Vi’s breath hitched, her chest tight as if her lungs had forgotten how to work. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to gather herself, but the words still wouldn’t come. Finally, she forced out a tiny, strangled sound, almost a whisper. “Again?”
Caitlyn obeyed, closing the distance once again to press her lips to Vi’s brow, and Vi squeezed her eyes shut and tried to etch the feeling into her mind.
Jinx had kidnapped Caitlyn from her bathroom. Caitlyn whispered the confession to her, admitting that she couldn’t take hot showers because the fog made the monkey Jinx drew on the mirror show up again.
Vi wiped the mirror down the best she could. Caitlyn shouldn’t have to take cold showers because she was afraid of the warmth that hot ones would provide.
But Caitlyn had changed since then, in ways Vi wasn’t sure how to fix. The shower had become an escape, a ritual of sorts. When Caitlyn showered, it was either too short or far too long. Sometimes she’d emerge with her shoulders stiff, her hair still wet, as if she hadn’t fully dried off. Other times, she’d come out looking exhausted, her eyes red as if she'd cried under the spray. And Vi had started to notice the shift in the time it took for Caitlyn to finish.
During one period where Caitlyn was in the shower, Vi listened to the water running. Seconds dragged on, stretching into what felt like hours. Caitlyn was taking longer than usual, and Vi’s mind started to wander, pulling up images of the fear Caitlyn had tried to hide after the kidnapping.
Vi’s jaw tightened. She approached the bathroom door, pressing her ear close to it just to ensure that she was okay. She could hear Caitlyn’s breath through the door, faint, but audible. It wasn’t the steady, even rhythm of someone at peace. It was ragged, uneven, like she was holding herself together just to keep from breaking.
Vi didn’t knock. Didn’t need to. “You okay in there?” The words slipped out easily, but inside, she was already bracing herself for the answer she knew was coming.
There was a slight pause, and then Caitlyn’s voice, cracked but soft, floated through the door. “I’m fine.”
Vi bit back a sigh. She could hear the lie in those two words.
“You don’t have to say that, Cait,” Vi said, her voice firm but gentle, as if to remind her that it was okay to not be okay. “I know you’re not fine.”
Another pause. Vi could almost feel Caitlyn’s hesitation on the other side of the door, the weight of her pride, her reluctance to admit weakness. But after a few moments, Caitlyn spoke again, quieter this time, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I just need a minute, Vi. I’ll be out in a second.”
Vi nodded, even though Caitlyn couldn’t see her. “Take your time. I’ve got you.” The words felt natural, like they had always been true, like they were as much a promise to herself as they were to Caitlyn.
Vi stayed exactly where she was—no movement, no distraction, just waiting. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was going to stay right there, even if all she could do was be present. She wasn’t about to let Caitlyn face it alone.
When Caitlyn finally emerged from the bathroom, steam still hanging in the air, Vi stood there, just outside the door, her eyes locked on Caitlyn’s face. Caitlyn looked a little calmer, but there was still that tension in her posture, the slight trembling in her hands. She was still shaking it off, still carrying everything with her, even if she didn’t speak it out loud.
Vi didn’t need her to explain. She could see it in her eyes.
Caitlyn met her gaze for a beat before speaking, her voice softer than before. “Thank you, Vi. For this.”
Vi shrugged, trying to brush it off, but she felt the warmth of the words settle in her chest.
“Anytime,” Vi said, her voice steady but gentle. “You don’t have to thank me for this. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sometimes, the Enforcers stationed at Stillwater would drag their batons across the bars of her cell as they walked past, just to let her know they were there.
Vi could still hear it clearly in her head. The thunk, thunk, thunk as each metal bar was hit. Sometimes, if they stood in front of her cell to taunt her, they'd tap it against the bars. Vi would count the number. If they were going to open the door and mess with her, they'd usually get it over with quickly. Any time the taps hit more than ten, she was likely safe, and they'd just leave, taunting her from a distance, their voices barely audible.
She hadn’t realized how easily the noise could be replicated.
She didn’t know what caused it. She was standing alone in the library, trying to read up on all the advancements she had missed while locked up, when something in the hallway sounded like that tinking noise.
Suddenly, she was back in the damp, oppressive darkness of her cell. The cold walls against her bruised skin, the cold bite of concrete wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. She froze, her muscles tensing, heart beating in a frantic rhythm as her eyes darted around the room, searching for the source.
But then there was nothing. Nothing but silence.
Her fingers curled into fists, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting the Enforcers to be standing there, batons raised, sneering at her, the familiar jangle of their gear rattling in the air. But there was nothing.
The sound had been real, though. Real enough to send a wave of panic through her chest.
Vi ran a hand through her hair, pushing the thought aside. She wasn’t trapped in Stillwater anymore, she was free.
But that sound still lingered in her mind. It always did. The soft tapping, like an invisible threat, a reminder that no matter how far she ran, she could never really escape.
Vi swallowed hard, clenching her jaw. Maybe she wasn’t really free. Maybe she’d never be.
Not if that damned noise followed her.
It was night and neither Vi nor Caitlyn were asleep. Vi lay on her back, her head tipped in Caitlyn’s direction just far enough to watch.
The faint light from the window cast a muted glow across Caitlyn’s face, her features soft in the stillness of the night. Vi watched her, the quiet pull of something in her chest urging her closer.
Without thinking, Vi’s hand shifted toward Caitlyn. Caitlyn wasn’t quite asleep yet, but she was hovering on the precipice. Vi's fingers hovered near the warmth of Caitlyn’s cheek, thinking of every time Caitlyn had gently done the same thing to her.
She brushed her knuckles gently over her skin. The touch was light, a mere graze, but Caitlyn stirred, her eyes locking onto Vi. There was no surprise, and no resistance, just a subtle stillness that told Vi it was okay to continue.
Vi traced her fingers over Caitlyn’s jaw, feeling the smooth curve of bone beneath the skin. She let her thumb slide down the line of Caitlyn’s neck. Caitlyn tilted her head just enough to press into the touch, her breath evening out as she relaxed into it. Vi followed the path, her fingers moving to the back of Caitlyn’s neck, curling slightly against the warmth there.
The sensation was electrifying and foreign all at once. Vi’s hand felt almost too large against Caitlyn’s delicate skin, too rough in comparison. She tried to keep the motion light, a soft, slow caress that lingered just enough to feel the smoothness of her skin beneath her fingertips.
Caitlyn’s breath was quiet but steady, her body relaxing even more as Vi’s hand continued to trace the curves of her face, the side of her throat. Vi felt the tiny shifts in Caitlyn’s muscles, the slight movement of her head as she leaned into the touch, as if instinctively wanting more. The warmth of Caitlyn’s skin seeped into Vi’s fingertips.
So, without thinking too much about it, Vi shifted closer, her chest brushing gently against Caitlyn’s side. Vi’s arm slowly moved around Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her just a little closer, letting their bodies align in the quiet dark. Caitlyn didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. Instead, she shifted again, a subtle motion that made it clear she was meeting Vi halfway, resting her head lightly on Vi’s shoulder, her breath warm against Vi’s neck.
Vi felt something in her chest loosen. Caitlyn let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing even further as she pressed in, her cheek resting against the crook of Vi’s neck.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. There was nothing more to say. No words were needed. Vi just held Caitlyn a little tighter, letting her fingers lightly trace the fabric of Caitlyn’s shirt. Caitlyn’s breathing slowed, a gentle rise and fall against Vi’s side, and Vi’s muscles relaxed, her body settling into the soft bed, into the warmth of Caitlyn’s presence.
Vi wasn’t sure how long they lay there like that, time slipping by unnoticed, but when Caitlyn’s breath evened out, and her body melted completely into Vi’s side, Vi let herself drift off too.
Having freedom was a terrifying thing.
Vi had dreamt so many times of all the things she’d do after she got out of prison, but most of them revolved around Powder. She was finally free and despite how badly she had wanted it, it was overwhelming.
Stillwater had controlled almost every aspect of her life. From when she ate to when she slept to when she was allowed to speak. She had lived by their schedule, not her own, and every decision was made for her except when it came to silence or violence. Those were the only choices she’d had in that place. Now, in the world outside, the absence of structure left her dizzy and unsure.
She had to remind herself to eat. It wasn’t natural anymore. After so many years of subsisting on whatever scraps the guards decided to toss her way, she often forgot. Her stomach would ache with hunger, a gnawing, familiar feeling that she’d come to know well in her years of confinement. Caitlyn told her over and over again that she was welcome to anything in the kitchen, but the idea of choosing something, anything, paralyzed her.
The world of food felt so distant, so strange. All she could recall was the tasteless slop they’d fed her at Stillwater. The shelves in Caitlyn’s kitchen were lined with things she couldn’t name, and when she stood in front of them, her mind would go blank. She’d end up staring at the variety of food like it was a puzzle she couldn’t solve, unable to decide on a single thing. Most of the time, she’d just walk away, empty-handed, choosing hunger over the overwhelming task of making a decision.
Indecision weighed her down like a heavy cloak. It was easier to go without than to try. She didn’t know how to navigate freedom when every choice felt too big to make.
Tobias, too, was a mystery to her. He locked himself away in his room for most of the day, isolating himself from the world. It was easy for Vi to avoid him. He hadn’t kicked her out, exactly. He just made it clear that he didn’t want to see her. So, Vi kept her distance, giving him the space he seemed to need. Vi could see his grief weighing him down and eroding his will.
Caitlyn, on the other hand, was trying to hold everything together. She stirred from her own grief to look after Tobias, making sure he ate, making sure he was okay, while Vi stood on the sidelines, unsure of how to help. Every time Vi would find Caitlyn in the kitchen, preparing food for Tobias, the woman glanced up and asked, “Are you hungry?”
Vi’s answer was always the same. She’d nod, because she was, but didn’t know what else to say.
Eating had become a shameful act for her. It felt undignified, like a wild animal scrambling for scraps. Years of having to guard every meal, of eating in a rush to keep her plate from being taken away, had left their mark. She ate too quickly, too messily, and sometimes, even when Caitlyn handed her larger portions than she was used to, she couldn’t slow down. Her instincts screamed at her to consume it all before it disappeared, before someone took it away.
Caitlyn started to fall back to a schedule, and she gently tugged Vi into it. It was relieving in some ways to know how to expect a day to go. Vi didn’t have to remind herself to eat because Caitlyn would tell her when.
But there was a part of Vi that bristled against it, something deep inside her that recoiled at the idea of someone else controlling her day again, even if it was Caitlyn, someone who only wanted to help. She’d spent so many years following someone else’s rules, living on the whim of others, that it felt unnatural to have someone guide her again. Even in the small, mundane acts, like when to eat or when to sleep, there was an itch in her chest, a sense of loss.
She’d thought that when she got out of Stillwater, she would be able to do whatever she wanted. She thought she would have the power to make choices, to shape her own life. But there with Caitlyn’s kindness and structure, it felt like she was back in a cage of a different kind. Only this time, it wasn’t the guards enforcing the rules, but Caitlyn’s quiet insistence on caring for her.
It was hard to breathe without the oppressive weight of the past hanging over her. She found herself looking at the clock more than she ever had before, checking the time like it might give her the answers she needed. The hours felt strange, like they belonged to someone else. Time, for so long, had been something she couldn’t control, and now, with too much of it stretching ahead, she didn’t know what to do with herself.
Caitlyn, sensing the distance, would try to fill the silence. She’d sit with her, talk to her about anything and everything, offering her pieces of her own life as if to pull Vi into it. But Vi couldn’t quite find a way to fit. It felt like Caitlyn was handing her pieces of a puzzle, and Vi wasn’t sure how to make them fit together, couldn’t see the picture, and didn’t know if she even wanted to try.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was waiting for something else. Maybe she was waiting for the walls to close in again, for the doors to lock, for the cold, hard bars to return. Maybe, in some part of her, she was still stuck in the mindset of survival. Maybe that was all she knew how to be.
It was terrifying, the freedom, the control. It was like standing in front of an open door, knowing you can walk through it, but being too afraid to take the first step. She had the power to choose—when to eat, when to sleep, what to do with her day—but that power felt more like a burden than a gift. The weight of those choices was enough to paralyze her.
And so, she waited. She let Caitlyn guide her, let her provide the structure that Vi couldn’t bring herself to build. She followed Caitlyn’s lead, unable to do anything else, too afraid to try. Because, as much as she longed for freedom, she wasn’t sure how to live it.