“Wicked! They will kill her!” I’ve never seen her the way she is right now. Her cheeks are bright red, the same color as her eye sockets from all of the crying, and her lips are cracked and chapped, like tears have dried like lip balm.

“They won’t.” I straighten my shoulders.

“And how do you know that?” Poppy snaps, shoving out of my arms. “She’s here because of me. Len! We have to get her out of here before they hurt her, or worse—” Her skin pales.

“They won’t, Poppy.” I brush away her loose hair. “I know because I’m going to be her Dragon.”

Poppy stops breathing, her face falling blank. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I can…”

“You—” Poppy shakes her head, stepping backward and away from me like I’ve fucking hurt her. “You can’t do that to her, Wicked!”

“Poppy!” I growl, taking a short tentative step toward her. “Me being her Dragon means we know she doesn’t die.”

“You’re right.” Poppy swipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “But it’s going to make her wish that she did.”

Past

I never thought much about birthdays. They were celebrated differently here to what I’d heard how they were out in the world. We celebrated them by the date we were burned into The Institution, not the day we were born. So today was my thirteenth birthday by TI, and yeah, I had been here a very fucking long time. Long enough to know that this was the only way I wanted to live. I was going to be the next Skully. I knew it. Everyone fucking knew it. It’s why I was his favorite pet, but today? Today was something different. It was four four four. The day of the half-born Dragon. Today was the day I was going to be forged into the next level of my life.

I pulled the rim of my hoodie up over my head, shading half of my face.

“Are you ready?” Poppy asked from behind me. I turned around to see her. Poppy and I were placed together when we first came in. She was a couple years younger than me, so I was already three or four when she came in, but I instantly felt protective of her. Like she was my own sister. Our bond grew from there. She was the only one I really spoke to in TI who wasn’t Skully. The only one I trusted. I didn’t bother with the others, since half of them ended up buried in the Pitt.

I let her worry, tightening my robe and making sure it didn’t have any crinkles. Behind the old asylum was dense bushland, and then hidden deeper in was a set of glass igloos. No one really knew what he did with them but me. All of us lived in the old asylum. A numbered room each.