Nothing is worth that pain (chapter 4)

Her father visits, and is very disappointed with her. She doesn't think that joy is worth the consequences that it comes with. (1,900~ words)

Despite putting up a fight, she ends up the loser in the end. She lies down on the floor with the boy's help and stubbornly closes her eyes to rebel against his tyranny. After flooding her mind with pure and beautiful things, he succeeded- at the very least- in completely and utterly exhausting her. Arguably, he won in several other respects as well, but she didn't stand a chance against his wit and stubborn will.
It was also a little bit fun.
Fun is hard to come across, so even though she dreaded Father's arrival and felt scared out of her mind at times, she generously accepted her fate. It was a worthwhile exchange, in her opinion, though she felt bad that the boy's hard work was going to go to waste. She had thought about warning him in advance but decided against it. If he got upset and tried to get in Father's way, that would be a death sentence. This would be the first time in years that she chose to stick her neck out in order to protect someone else. If Father found out... well, she suddenly wouldn't have to stick her neck out for him, suffice to say.
The boy continues silently exercising away from herself. It doesn't make any sense that he can exercise for hours at a time when they haven't been given water nor food for nearly an entire day. It's a huge waste of energy, yet he does it anyway. Is there a secret to it? Perhaps it has something to do with the weird ability he showed her yesterday.
She's getting drowsy when her heart begins to race uncontrollably. Her eyes widen and senses stretch out to feel the world around her. Immediately, the walls and floors, which remained oddly silent throughout the night, begin crying and moaning. She can feel the vibrations run over her body from the giant metal door at the other end of the cave swinging and slamming into the wall with a bang. A chill breeze enters the stuffy, dry cave, and the disgusting smell of the dungeon is carried along with it, and the pleasant memories accompanying it. She shivers.
With nerves alight, she wishes desperately to take back her words claiming that some fun was worth a bit of suffering. Father's idea of suffering isn't worth anything. She let the boy get the better of her for nothing. Her legs tremble.
She wants to stand up. If she stands up before Father gets here, she might be able to save herself. Or, at least she'll have something left to still be considered herself. Her hip hurts too much to be able to get up without falling down again, though.
She sees the boy across the room.
He makes eye contact, and an idea smacks her across the face.
How come she didn't think of it earlier?!
She waves him over with an urgent expression, and he gets the hint by running over with quiet steps. He kneels down towards her, and she grabs one of his hands in a hurry.
'Help me up.' She mouths the words, hoping he can read her lips.
He looks stunned, but she squeezes his hand with fervent desperation, begging him with her eyes. Whatever emotions he feels go right over her head.
The only thing she focuses on is the absence of pain she can get from him.
With awkward but swift movements, the boy hooks his arms under her legs and shoulders keeping intense eye contact the whole while. Pain does peek through during the moments he blinks or his eyes stray, but she stiffens her expression.
He sets her on her feet, helping recover her balance as the calm footsteps of three people casually approach the bend. The shaking in her hands disappears in the concentration, but she doesn't notice. All she can do is stare into those clear eyes and immerse herself in them. As soon as she feels her good leg stabilize, she shoves the boy back as far as possible and turns away from him, looking at the entrance of the cage. She doesn't listen to his movements behind her. She doesn't know if he fell or stumbled.
The steps come around the bend.
Father, the butler, and a man covered in rags, blood, and all sorts of chain and rope marks. She can assume he came from the dungeon. Though, she has no idea as to why he's here. She’s reminded of the long blood stain and gulps.
Her leg, trembling in pain, almost gives out when she makes eye contact with Father. The burning and agony vanishes like an illusion.
She curtsies.
The pain naturally comes back when she looks down, but it's a necessary cost to staying on Father's good side.
"My daughter," Father greets. "Have you been entertaining this little guest of mine?" He doesn't show concern for the blood caked in her hair. She looks up.
"I did as Father asked." Her voice is rough and broken, but it can be understood without difficulty. The boy’s work, surely.
Father hums. He steps up to the cage, messing with the lock for a moment and swinging the door open. It bangs and rattles against the bars on the other side noisily.
He approaches her with a calm face. She doesn't react to his approach.
Gently, Father brings his hand to her cheek. With a tenderness that feels polar to his nature, his thumb strokes side to side on the length of her cheekbone, with a warm hand that heats up her cold cheek.
"Daughter," he starts quietly, "You look well."
He swings his hand simply and her body smashes into the wall across the room. Her father shakes off his hand calmly. His expression shifts slightly from when he entered the cage, but only slightly. He lowers his eyes in disappointment.
The boy stumbled to the side when she shoved him, so he had been standing in the shadows when he saw her body fly backwards suddenly. If she hadn't pushed him like she did, he would have been caught in the impact. He stares at the girl in horror, and his fists, which remained still when the girl was being beat the other day, begin to tremble.
Father clicks his tongue. "How foolish can you be... I thought you had been studying well, but I suppose not. This isn't what I want to see from you. Good daughters don't disappoint their father. Isn't that right?"
His polished shoes clack against the stone, the sound echoing loudly in the silent cave. She doesn't react to the sound, collapsed on the floor like a stringless puppet. An abandoned doll. Her hair covers her eyes.
A pathetic whimper escapes her mouth.
Tears run down from her eyes.
Father kneels down, running his hand over her hair. He touches the back of her head on accident and his hand comes away red with fresh blood. He takes out a handkerchief, wipes it off, and throws it away. The white is stained a perfect scarlet, unnervingly so.
"You have been a bad daughter. You didn't obey my words, so I have to punish you." This time he reaches out and grabs the back of her neck. She cries out, writhing, but her father pulls her up to eye level and uses his other hand to push her hair out of the way.
The moment their eyes make eye contact, her movements stop. Even her tears stop flowing, and they begin to dry on the cheeks her father had so carefully held in his hand. She stares at him blankly. He stares back; Smiling.
"My daughter, do you want to know why I told you this boy is a monster?"
"... If Father would... tell a daughter as wretched as me..."
"Well, I would be a bad father if I wasn't able to forgive my daughter. I will tell you, my daughter." He proclaims, as if he truly believed himself to be magnanimous and merciful. "This boy is among the lineage of the northern royalty. They are given special powers for merely surviving in the cold winter."
He turns around to face the front of the cage and sits cross legged onto the floor. He drags his daughter around and lays her head on his lap. He keeps eye contact the whole while, and she responds to nothing. He brushes her hair out of her face again, staring down at her. She only looks at him. The light had died from her eyes when they first made eye contact beyond the barred cage.
"It's believed," he continues, "that the god in charge of that region was worried all the humans would die without any help, so it chose the strongest tribe and gifted the chief's children with a new power. For the sake of survival. You see, this power finds survival to be the most important. Those with this power get to choose who lives or dies. It’s god-like, isn't it?”
As if a great storyteller was reborn into his body, the father recalls what can only be described as a brutal fairytale for his daughter, lying in his lap and listening intently. The intense eye contact between them could almost fool someone that they were a loving family. However, the father has no love in his eyes, and the daughter's eyes are vacant of heart or mind.
"This power can heal anyone but at a steep price. The price of someone else's life. So the chief's children take the lives of the sick and elderly to heal the strong warriors, who get injured from defending the tribe against wolves and bears. Then one of the chief's children discovers that the lives of others can be used to heal themselves, too. It can also make them stronger. One life could sustain someone with these powers for weeks, and they wouldn't have to eat nor drink. They’d even look lively and fresh.
"But the children began to fight each other. Some resisted the idea of killing others to grow stronger, and others argued that it was the will of the gods. It split the tribe, and a war broke out. They mercilessly ate their tribe members to grow stronger than their siblings. Eventually, nothing was left. They even ate their own father in the end."
He strokes her cheek.
“Of course, only bad children try to hurt their parents.
"So the children spread farther, eating up other tribes. The two sides, one against eating and the other for it, fought viciously. Do you want to know who won?"
He doesn't wait for a response. "The one against killing won. Isn't that strange? How could they have won, if they were weaker than the children who ate and grew stronger?"
"The secret," he whispers, lowering his head, "is by eating the other children of the chief. Those children who said eating others was cruel still chose to eat. Like vicious beasts with a ravenous appetite, they couldn't deny their nature in the end. By eating their siblings, one child grew strong enough to wipe out the children on the side of god. He ate them too. He was too strong. The last of the children left were scared of him, and offered to be his subordinates if they could keep their lives. That's how the strongest child became king, and the three weaker families were formed."
His golden eyes pierce hers.
"That boy you spent the night with is a monster. If he was starving, he would eat you. All to survive for a few more weeks."
He smiles.

Author's Note

It feels weird. Any ideas why?