I won't deny the pain.

Standing with a slight quiver, Tic gazed at the great doors; they were shut and secured, caging him once more. His stare lingered, waiting for the footsteps to recede. Once silence came, he turned the stare away with a jerk, his hands tensing tightly -- then relaxed with a stuttered breath.

Breathing in, he turned, not caring to glance at the new surroundings. He dropped onto the bed, its sheets neat and white. It was softer here, he thought dazedly, as he sprawled himself onto its covers. He waited a few moments, staring past his hands through the dim, dark room. And then he let out a sigh, mixed with the soft sound of a whispered cry.

Thinking of what Larkin had said, he had felt suddenly sick; his words were twisted, his truth went unheard. He never considered looking for a trapdoor, or wondering whether his near-only hope was still alive or not. Larkin's consistent disbelief hurt, suddenly blinding him with an anxious fear of what was to come.

And it was even worse that he felt he didn't have the worth to be rescued in the first place. Once someone was gone in The Sink, it was too risky to retrieve them; unless, of course, they really were important, or their friends were just too stubborn. He didn't really have anyone for that -- Miraye was locked in the dungeons, Matthias was probably dead. He wondered what Larkin would do if he found out that he was wasting his time on such an insignificant boy.

But still, he did do something strange before. Twice, at least. He didn't know what it was or why it happened, but didn't think he should get excited about it. It could've been Miraye, after all. She has something, a power, that he's only dreamed about. For a moment, he wondered why Larkin wasn't spending more with her, but the thought quickly went forgotten.

Through a fading veil of light, he remained silent for the rest of the day. He lied there and waited, dreading the oncoming night.