SICK HEART by Huss, JA (non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

We all know Rainer is staying behind with the kids. They are very happy about that. And that’s also super great. For them. Because they get to go back to wherever their real home is and things will mostly be the same.

But not me. Nope. I have no clue where I’m going when this is over. Not even a little bit.

I look up at Cort and frown as I shake my head. He’s staring down at me with concerned eyes, truly wondering why the fuck I’m losing my shit.

I pull my hand out of his and start signing. I don’t think I can do it anymore.

“Do what?”

Survive.

“Anya—”

No, I spell. No! I don’t want to talk to you. Just leave me alone.

And then I turn my back to him and pull my knees up so I can wrap my arms around myself.

I wait, almost holding my breath, as the rain eases up and becomes a still consistent, but softer drizzle. But Cort doesn’t get up to leave. Instead, he puts his arms around me and pulls me back so I’m leaning against his chest. “Do you want to hear my story then?”

I look over my shoulder, catching just a glimpse of his jawline. His chin is propped up on my bare shoulder and the scratchiness of his neglected week-old stubble suddenly makes me acutely aware of his body.

“Yes? No? You don’t give a fuck?”

I think about my answer for a few moments, then finally sign, Yes.

He takes a deep breath and starts talking on the exhale. “I don’t remember most of the early stuff. I was about four and a half, maybe, when Udulf started noticing me. And ironically, it was because I refused to talk. I had already learned sign language. I don’t remember how, so don’t ask. Some kid, probably. Some kid I was raised with. Or… I dunno, maybe a caretaker was deaf. Sounds about right.” He scoffs. “That these sick fucks would assign a deaf person to care for the babies so they couldn’t hear us cry.”

God, that’s the truth. I don’t remember much of my early days either. I remember Paris, of course. it was always nice in Paris. But other than that—all those men I was sent to. They all just run together. There were yachts. There were private jets. There were beaches, and mountains, and green lawns in front of country estates.

But I wasn’t a guest.

I was a slave.

And I was on a mission.

Every single time.

“Anyway.” Cort pauses again, like he needs to build up his will. “I was one of the house slaves at first.”

I picture that. Having been one myself, it’s not that difficult. The boys had it much worse in my opinion. Lazar didn’t keep a lot of them, and when I was small, he didn’t have any my age. But I would hear them in the middle of the night when Lazar had guests. I would hear them screaming.

I turn my body, angling my bent knees between us, and look at Cort. His face is almost expressionless. And that’s something I can relate to, as well. We learn how to turn it all off at a very young age. If you can’t turn it off, you don’t make it.

“I wanted to die back then. That’s about the only thing I do remember. I had this overwhelming urge to just die. And because of this I made a lot of trouble for Udulf. That’s why he brought me out here. I pissed him off and he dropped me off to die.”

I exhale in surprise.

Cort nods. “Yep. I was about five. And I was done living. There was no point. Until…” His voice lifts a little. “Until I came out here and met these birds. Well”—he turns and scans the birds all huddled against the exterior wall of the mechanical room—“that bird, actually. See him? He’s got a brownish beak. Their beaks get darker as they age. He’s over thirty years old.”

I look at Cort and make a face of fuck you.

He laughs. “I swear. These albatrosses practically live forever. And that guy over there, he was here with me that first time I was left on the Rock. He fed me fish.”

Holy shit. Cort is Tarzan.

“That’s how I stayed alive. Udulf didn’t come back for months. In fact, I think he forgot about me. He only came to drop off another little boy my age.

“I was naked, and savage, and skinny. But I was still alive. My friend over there, he fed me. I had a lot of water. They left pallets of it when they decommissioned this rig.” He pauses to smile. “I didn’t want for anything. I taught myself how to fish. I swam around the reef. I would run laps around this roof. And…” He breathes out. “Every day I would jump off.”

He’s looking down at the sea when he says this, but then he looks at me. “I tried to kill myself every day. I wasn’t unhappy, but I knew…” He shakes his head. “This wasn’t right. There was something very wrong with my life. And if I didn’t die really fucking soon, I was gonna figure out what all that wrongness was. So I jumped. Every day. But guess what?” He chuckles. “This rig isn’t high enough to kill yourself by jumping. But I did try. I haven’t jumped in more than two decades now, but you wanna know something weird?”

I nod my head.

“That night of our fight? That night on the Bull of Light? I had this overwhelming urge to grab your hand and run. Just run with you until we ran out of room and had to jump. And the only reason I didn’t was because… I had won. I had finally reached my goal. We were free. And I was pretty sure that jumping off that ship was a death sentence. We would’ve gotten caught up in the wake or sucked under. And I realized that I didn’t have it