I sit in the red chair pretending to read a book as Cain looks over data sheets at the table, his hand moving at top speed as he writes things down. It's been four days since my abduction and I'm still recovering. My wounds are still sore and unpleasantly raw but the 'experienced' medical practitioner that he brought to see me only confirmed everything Blake had said. That I don't have any internal damage and I'll heal.

He won't let anyone see me. Not Christian, Jackson or Marina. I don't even know if she's left or not, he's hardly said a word to me in days. He just sits there at the table, ignoring everything I say unless it's to do with my health.

He knows that being in the same room as me and not speaking to me, not touching me, is a sure way to make my soul depressed. I'm starting to hate him for that. I hear him sigh as he reads over something, relaxing his fist into his cheek. The table is littered with dozens and dozens of sheets, he must be analysing global data.

"Aurora," he says. "It's time to take your painkillers."

I lift the book higher, ignoring him.

"Take them or I'll force them down your throat."

I believe him. I slam the book closed and I limp over to the box at the edge of the table that he keeps there with a glass of water. The nannery doctor left them for me, they are much stronger than the ones on my shelf and are the only thing that can help with my migraines. He watches me take them, becoming satisfied and dropping his head to focus on his work. I catch a glimpse of some of the words on the papers, it's mostly figures but I read 'pure bids' among the top.

I slump back into the chair, pulling a blanket around me as I listen to the hard rain against the window. Keeping Jackson from me is one of the cruellest things he could do to me. I long for him badly, to just know that he's alright. I don't know anything. And he's probably going out of his mind with worry too. I dangle my legs over the chair and I hide my face deeper into the blanket. Cain is so quiet. He hardly makes any noise at all. It is genuinely as though he isn't even here. I close my eyes as the painkillers move throughout my system, my migraine becomes more bearable and my joints less stiff. I fall asleep.

A loud bang wakes me up. I glare at the other side of the room; a teenage boy enters with my dinner. Cain clicks his fingers down at the table and the boy places it exactly where he is told.

"Your dinner is here," Cain says. "Eat."

I rise from the chair and I go into the bathroom, slamming the door closed. I breathe over the sink, glancing at my face in the small mirror. I finger my cheeks, the dry cuts are still visible, along with bruises all along my jawline and at the side of my forehead. I was travelling so fast when I was thrown from the bike, I'm surprised I'm alive at all. I lift up my shirt, looking over my shoulder at my back. It's worse there. Much worse. The bruises are larger, darker, with an angry feel to them. I haven't had a shower in days because the pressure from the water will only make the pain worse but I'm getting desperate for a wash. Cain might not help me because he'll think I have ulterior motives but I really need a bath. I can hardly even dress myself let alone get in and out of a high tub. I try to bend down to place the plug into the hole but I can't even make it halfway down before I cry out.

I leave the bathroom and I stand there for a few moments awkwardly, he senses something is wrong and he finally looks up at me.

"Can you run me a bath?" I say. "I can't bend down."

He flicks his eyes back to his paperwork. "Your dinner is here."

"I'm not hungry, I'll eat it later. I need your help."

He clenches on his teeth and pushes his chair back. I step out of the way as he enters the bathroom. I follow him, staying against the wall as he bends down and starts filling the water.

"I um. . . I need your help to get into it too," I whisper.

"Why?" he says.

"Because it hurts to move, Cain," I say, my voice trembling. "It hurts to even stand."

"Okay. Let me know when you're ready."

He stays on the floor, his back to me. He is so patient; he doesn't make a sound as I spend a few minutes removing my long shirt. It hurts that much that tears sting my eyes, I cry out as I finally lift the shirt over my head. I take a deep breath as I arch my back to remove my sweatpants.

Cain spins around and places his hand to the top of my waist, his hands cover mine and we both shiver from the touch. He controls himself, slipping them down my legs slowly. He helps me to lift my legs out of them and then he looks away as he helps me with my underwear.

He stands up and moves closer to the tub, placing his hand out. I grab it, feeling my body lift from the floor. He squeezes tightly around my waist and the pressure against the bruises makes me almost squeal. I am placed carefully into the bubbly water. He looks over my back with an expression of shock. He hasn't seen it yet and I didn't want him to. He shakes his head, acting as though he never saw it.

"You can go now," I say.

He is very quick to turn around. "Shout for me if you need help."

I clench on my teeth as I lay down, every part of me stings. I thought it was getting better but it isn't. Not even close. That's the only time he has helped me get undressed, for the first time he just listened to me struggle. I haven't changed my clothes in two days because I couldn't face it.

Tears fall down my cheeks as I think of Jase. He was a good person, he would have made a good man if he had the chance to grow into one. I want to blame Cain for that but I can't. My mind won't let me blame Cain for anything. I want so much to hate him, to look at him with the disgust that he believes I should, it would make all of this easier.

There's a war in my head. It rages on and on. Two sides clashing in an epic battle for dominance. Marina called my life a prophecy. She said I was destined to ring the bell and kill the creatures since my birth. She also called it a legend. A myth from thousands of years ago carved on a piece of mystical metal. What if it's just that—a myth? What if I ring the bell and Cain is right? I die. Nothing happens except my death. If Marina knows about this then Cain must know too. He must know that I'm the one that is destined to end his existence. Yet he doesn't care. He still can't kill me. I just can't work out if that is because of arrogance or genuine care for me.

All I ever wanted was for the children to be saved. For them to be released from their prisons and grow up in a world without fear. I spent so long taking away their nightmares that I never realized I planted dreams. I gave them hope when there wasn't hope. It breaks my heart that they died still thinking there was something better out there. Jackson was the only one that didn't fall for my lies, he always saw the world for what it was. Hopeless, brutal and evil. Because of that he has never allowed himself to be happy, he has never had the chance to experience what living is. Just like the millions of other children around the world.

This is Cain's world now. But it was ours first. It will always be ours.

I softly scrub myself before removing the plug. I call for Cain and he lifts me out of the bath. He wraps a towel around me and then leaves. Though not completely. He freezes suddenly, his hand clenches into a fist as he turns back around. I squeeze the towel tighter around me, looking back at him as I shiver from the cold.

"Why are you just standing there?" he says. "Do you need help again?"

I nod. "I'm tired. I don't have much energy."

He looks to his right and walks out of my view; he returns a second later with the soft blanket from my chair. I swallow as he removes the towel from around me. He replaces it with the blanket, covering my entire body with it. He suddenly picks me up, my legs dangle over his arms as he carries me across the room. He lays me down on top of the bed. I pull the blanket around me, burying my face underneath its comfort.

"Goodnight," he whispers.

"Goodnight," I murmur back.