Chapter 13

                                    

                                          
Sang hadn't returned. Iris wasn't sure how long it had been. She knew she was healing, her blood was dry and her skin felt tight, but she wasn't sure if it would do her any good. If she was left too long she would starve to death anyway. 
                          
Iris had managed to pick herself off the ground, she now sat huddled in the corner, staring at the wall opposite her with blank eyes. She tried to visualise her books, to pass the time. Thinking of all the adventures she read about, imagining she was joining in. It helped her ignore the pain. 
                          
Her throat felt soar, dry from the lack of water and irritated from the past burns it had suffered from her mother concoctions. Her eyes were dull, devoid of emotion and surrounded by dark bags. 
                          
Iris wrapped her arms around her body, trying to warm herself up, however the cold floor and walls made that very difficult. She shivered as the cool air seemed to sponge all the heat from her body, leaving her feeling cold and empty. 
                          
She wondered briefly what she would be doing right at that moment if things had gone differently, if Sang hadn't been sitting on Kota's bed. 
                          
Would they have believed her?
                          
Would they have helped her?
                          
Would she be safe? Warm? Happy?
                          
Iris shivered violently, her arms tightening around her legs and her face pressing into her knees. She tried to heat herself up using friction, rubbing her hands up and down her legs, gently though, since she didn't want to open any of her wounds. 
                          
Slowly the deafening silence began to lull Iris back to sleep, her arms halting their movements and falling limply next to her as she finally drifted off.
                          
~~~
                          
Iris couldn't stay asleep for long periods of time. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of Sang and her mother played behind her eyelids. 
                          
Being awake hurt her body, being asleep hurt her heart. 
                          
She tried to take her mind off of her pain and growing hunger and thirst. She played games, and sang softly to herself. She sang in different languages, translating her favourite songs into her favourite languages to help time pass faster. Still, it became tiring eventually and she fell into a hopeless silence. 
                          
She wasn't foolish enough to think anyone would come and rescue her. Marie or her father were her best hope, but she didn't have much faith in them. 
                          
She wondered if she would die. Alone, in a basement. She wondered if anyone would know, or care. How long would it take to find her body? Would her family just bury her in the woods and remove all traces of her? Would anyone ever know she existed?
                          
Iris decided then and there, if she ever got out, she would start living. Really living. She would do something good, for other people. She would leave a footprint. Because if she was to die right now, there would be nothing left of her except a few tattered books in a dusty loft. 
                          
~~~
                          
Iris was sure a few days had gone by at this point. She had never felt so hungry. Sure, she had gone without food for extended periods before, but never while she was trying to heal from such severe injuries. 
                          
She tried to move around more, sitting in the same corner had began to make her legs feel very weak, so she tried to walk along the back wall of the basement, her arm supporting her against the wall. 
                          
Her legs protested every step, but she persevered. She didn't want to feel weak. Or forgotten. Even if she was forgotten, abandoned, discarded. She still had herself. She could be strong for herself. 
                          
Her wounds were scabbing over now. Lingering in that uncomfortable itchy phase. She assumed that a couple of her cuts and gashes were infected, but she tried to not linger on that thought since she could do nothing from the decrepit room she was locked in. 
                          
Iris was beyond trying to stay positive, at this point she was just trying to stay sane.