Jade’s nerves were numb. Jade’s mouth was filled with sand. Jade’s eyes were closed and had not opened for some time.

A’doxia continued to sing her lullaby:

The pressure of a blade. The stroke of an artist. The whimper of a child.

The flash of lightning. The smell of burning flesh. The hunger in Jade’s stomach.

The light laugh of her captor. The shift of her weight on Jade’s hips. The sand thrown in her wounds.

Where was Aris now? Was she concerned? Was she frightened?

How long had it been? Had it been years? Months?

The spark of electricity. The nerves relaying a delayed and muddled sense of agony. The wince.

Did A’doxia fancy herself an artist? Was Jade her painting board? And her blood the palette?

How much blood had she lost? Would she die? She hoped she would.

A’doxia leaned forward. She whispered four words, her voice quiet and gentle: “Why aren’t you screaming?”

The pressure of a hand. The warmth of the blood. The shock of lightning flowing through her.

Jade’s voice was hoarse. She could not scream anymore. She could not think anymore.

A’doxia’s hands, both coated in blood, pressed against Jade’s face. “Where are they?” Her voice was tender. Jade simply smiled.

A’doxia pressed Jade’s face into the sand with one hand. With the other, she dug the blade through Jade’s flesh. Jade kept her smile.

“Where are the Exuro troops, private?” A’doxia asked. Her voice was even. Jade tried to open one blackened eye.

The blade pressed against her spine. The fingers curled around Jade’s cheek. Jade’s eye cracked open.

A’doxia’s face was calm. She raised a brow. Jade locked eyes with her.

“Are you ready to talk?” Jade wanted to sleep. The hand left her face.

The blade slipped away. The warmth of the blood flooded her flesh. She wished there was a breeze.

“Well?” A’doxia whispered, leaning close. Fingers dug into the cuts. A spike of dulled pain ran through Jade.

Jade felt her lips move. The words were too quiet to hear. A’doxia leaned closer.

“Do you…have any water?” Jade’s voice was hoarse. Her lips curled with a smile.

A’doxia’s face curled with hatred. Jade wondered how such a pretty face could make such an ugly expression. How silly.

The fingers around her waist. The sound of sparks. The jolt of electricity.

The knife slit her flesh. The nerves woke up. Jade closed her eyes.

“You’ll be a work of art when I’m finished with you.” Mother? Was that Mother’s voice?

Was Mother here? The digging of a knife. Was Mother singing to her?

The sand grew wet with blood. A cry caught in Jade’s throat. The tears threatened to escape.

The lightning ran through the open wounds. A sob escaped Jade’s throat. Tears started to flow.
“Mother?” Jade whispered. The word burned her throat. A’doxia laughed like wind chimes.
“No.” Her lips brushed Jade’s ear. Jade forced her eyes open. Her mother, lean with muscle and with red hair falling around her face, sat where A’doxia should sit. She opened her mouth, red lips curled with a pitying smile. “I am not your mother. I am your owner.”

Jade jerked upright in her bed and grabbed her head. Sweat beaded her brow. Wild eyes scanned the glowering darkness of her room. Nothing. No one was there. Not even her mother.
“Just…just a nightmare.” she whispered to herself. Her heart pounded in her chest. Where those tears on her cheeks?
“Only a nightmare.” she repeated. She brushed the sweat off her brow. She lay back against the mattress of her bed and felt the scars press against the sheets. She closed her eyes.