Thea
Thea
M y stomach hurts, and my eyes burn from lack of sleep. I thought nothing could be as bad as waking up and learning I was buried in a box and set on fire. How wrong I was. This padded cell is more confining than any coffin could ever be, because of what it represents.
How many days has it been since my last therapy session? Seven? Eight? I’ve lost count. Meals don’t come at regular intervals, so I can’t use that as a reference point. Not that it would matter if they did. Twice, I’ve woken with no sense of time, lethargic, and a drumbeat in my head, so I stopped eating. There’s no way I’m gonna help them drug me into compliance. As long as I’m awake, I can fight.
The door creaks open. The light that filters in exacerbates the pain in my eyes. Malcolm’s back. His suit stands in stark contrast to the grimy walls and muffled cries in the hall. My hair’s unwashed, and I smell. I couldn’t look less like a pampered princess if I tried. He glares at me with so much disgust, it’s a wonder he doesn’t immediately change his mind about his proposed arrangement.
We’ve been doing this song and dance for weeks. He comes here and tells me that nobody misses me; the world is moving on; the guys have moved on. Like I’m supposed to be hurt or shocked by that. Am I supposed to curl up and cry? I already know whatever affection they pretended to have for me was a lie. A way to manipulate me for more money and power. I dealt with and moved on from that shit before the cops slapped the cuffs on me.
As always, I remain silent. Malcolm likes to hear himself talk. Eventually, he’ll say something that’s supposed to belittle me into submission. Malcolm was all too happy to tell me he’s planted the idea in everyone’s head that I ran away. Supposedly, the stress of pledging the League of the Daggered Ravens and the expectations for my future were too much for me to deal with, given my poverty ridden background. That lie is the reason no one submitted a missing person’s report. It also lays the groundwork for my return and his petition to have me assigned to him for proper tutelage.
I guess he missed the memo about me being emotionally stunted, with severe abandonment issues that I refuse to deal with. Leaving me behind is always what I expect people to do. If anything, his news validates my thoughts and beliefs.
“I’ve heard you’re an intelligent girl, yet I’ve seen no proof of that. Do you think dragging this on changes anything for you?”
It might not change it, but that doesn’t mean I have to make this easy on anyone.
“I’ve given you ample time to consider your predicament. To accept my offer. Since you’re still refusing, I’ll have to precede another way.”
I flick my eyes over him, the tone of his voice a warning that this next course of action will include less talking. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that without me, you’re never leaving this place. No one’s coming to rescue you.”
He’s referring to my many escape attempts. I don’t need anyone to come for me. I can rescue myself. So far, my attempts have been unsuccessful, but each time I make it a little further, learning what hallways and stairwells to avoid. The last time, I made it as far as the loading dock by the cafeteria before the orderlies captured me. Hence the drugging, which led to my refusal to eat.
He drones on. “So you see, you’re completely at my mercy. I can make your stay here as comfortable or as miserable as you want. Either way, I will get what I want.”
I remain calm, doing nothing to show that what he’s insinuating turns my stomach. We stare at one another, waiting for the other to submit first. I’ve laid out the terms I want in exchange for agreeing to his offer, and I’m not changing my mind about it. I realize he can’t agree to my demands because that means revealing that he knows where I am. There’s nothing I can do about that while I’m in here, but it’s still leverage.
He sighs. “This would have been so much easier if you’d said yes.”
Spoken like a man who’s finally realizing I’ll never willingly do what he wants me to do. I spring to my feet as he gestures for the orderlies to come forward. They grab at my arms and I swing, fighting back. I knee one in the balls, then knee him in the face when he bends over to cup his sack. Three more orderlies rush in. They take turns hitting me while Malcolm stands back, straightening the cuffs on his suit.
“I don’t care how you get the drugs in her system. I want her on a continuous regiment so she can’t try to escape again, and intravenous feedings, so she maintains a healthy weight. Notify me when she has her period, and no one fucks her. I can’t risk her conceiving someone else’s child.”
I hear his words and my hold on my stomach slips. I spew bile as the orderlies continue to slam their fists into me. A month. I just finished my period. I’ve got a month. A month to get myself out of here. That’s the last thought I have before things turn black.