Davian.
"Wake up, Maria!"
My voice tore through the room, raw and thunderous, echoing off the stone walls as I took a step toward her crumpled form. She didn't move. Didn't even twitch. The sight only stoked the fire already raging inside me.
"I am not done with you yet!" I roared.
My foot connected with her stomach, hard enough to jolt her body across the floor. Still, nothing. No groan. No gasp. No instinctive curl of pain. She lay there like an abandoned doll, limbs slack, hair fanned across the cold floor.
I kicked her again.
And again.
Each strike was driven by fury, by the sick conviction that she was pretending, that this was another one of her tricks. She always had a way of slipping through consequences, of looking weak just enough to draw sympathy. I refused to believe this was any different.
But the longer she remained motionless, the louder the silence became.
My breath hitched.
