SICK HEART by Huss, JA (nice books to read TXT) 📗

only been decommissioned for a few months when I arrived. It was still clean. And you could walk all the way down the steps to the water without slipping on slick algae and breaking your neck if you weren’t careful.

All the housing containers had been removed but there were still leftover things inside the permanent building on the middle level. Clothes, and blankets, and even a deck of cards. And there was the kitchen, of course. Bathrooms, too. Those were built into the frame of the topside for electrical reasons, and couldn’t be disconnected.

Food, on the other hand, that was hard to come by. There was no leftover food on the rig and it would take me weeks before I successfully caught my first fish down on the lowest platform using a steel beam as a spear and a discarded net that was stuck on the rig’s frame, just above sea level.

But that wasn’t what kept me alive.

The bird kept me alive.

Just one bird back then. One wayward albatross who should’ve been on the other side of the world. His wing was bent in a weird way and he didn’t fly very well. I don’t know how he got here, since the natural habitat of the royal albatross is sub-Antarctic and this rig is equatorial, but he was here. And he could still fly—just not well enough to go home.

I think he knew I was in the same position. So we were in it together.

I gave him water and he brought me food like I was his chick.

Little fishes. Little disgusting fishes that he spit out and I swallowed whole, so I didn’t have to chew. And even though I could’ve talked to the bird, I didn’t. Not at first. He didn’t say anything either. It was like we both knew there was no fucking point. We were stuck here and that was that.

I liked it. I won’t admit that to anyone, but I liked it out here on the Rock. It was my first real taste of freedom. For the very first time I was in charge of my life.

Udulf came back months later, expecting me to be dead and only there to drop off another disobedient house boy who was actually thrown off the rig and disappeared into the dark, choppy water without ceremony before we left.

By that time, I didn’t want to leave.

That bird, he was the only family I had left.

That was the last time I cried.

And that is how I learned to be silent.

When I finally got off the Rock, I was taken to Udulf’s training camp. Apparently, in Udulf’s world, you are either a house boy or a gym boy, and he had decided that I was a gym boy.

His camp back then was nothing like my camp right now. And it would take me ten long years before I had won enough fights and killed enough boys to earn my own camp.

But on that flight from the Rock to the shore, Udulf had come up with a new way to separate the wheat from the chaff, thanks to me. Every boy from then on would do three months on the Rock. Alone.

He lost a lot of boys that way. But they were disposable, weren’t they? And anyway, that was in my favor. Because if any of them had come back, they would be formidable opponents.

Pavo Vervonal was the first to make it off the Rock, but by that time, I was nearly eight and he was just five. He followed me around like a sad, lost puppy when they brought him back but he was sold just a few months later so I never thought about him much. I don’t know if Lazar was the one who bought him originally, it doesn’t matter. The point was, Pavo had earned his place as wheat and that fight last night was nineteen years in the making.

It’s hard to believe that it’s over.

Almost too good to be true.

Anya is staring at me. Then her eyes drift down to the hose in my hands. She looks disoriented and confused.

I would not call her clean, but the blood and the paint has been stripped off her flesh. She is red now, not pale. And for the first time, I take a good long look at her body.

Her breasts are firm and her nipples are bunched up into tight peaks. Her hips are wide and her waist is narrow. Her hair is blonde, but looks brown now that it’s wet.

She is pretty. Even like this, and without recalling her from yesterday when I had just arrived on the ship, I can see her beauty. I can see why Lazar kept her around long after her usefulness wore off.

He could’ve sold her. And she would’ve fetched a lot of money if her buyer wasn’t put off by her silence.

But Lazar kept her long past her, for lack of a better word, usefulness. And then he chose to put her up as a sacrifice.

Why? Was he really so sure that Pavo would beat me and she would not be killed? Or was it something else?

Anya steps forward, reaching for the hose, and I have to shake myself out of my introspection. It happens to me out here. I lose myself in the open sea, and the wind, and the birds.

There are a lot of birds now. Not all of them albatrosses. Lots of gulls too. And is it irony or fate that this old rig has turned into an unsanctioned breeding colony of vulnerable wayward seabirds?

I don’t know. But I smile about it anyway.

I slip my shorts down my legs and stand still. Most of the paint and blood has melted away with the sweat from the day’s workout. But it has left filthy, disgusting streaks down my legs.

Anya turns the hose on and it hits my body at full force, making me take several steps backward and grab at my ribs.

She turns it off