8. Ren
8
REN
I t’s weird. Am I losing time? Blacking out or something? The last thing I remember was fighting with Scarlet. I’m not proud of how easy it was to lose my temper, but if there’s anybody in the world who could make me do it, it’s her.
So how did I end up here? Stretched out on a filthy, stinking mattress?
At first, I can’t remember why I was so pissed—until I do. It all comes back, slamming into me like an express train. Where the hell does she get off telling me there’s no River? It has to be something her family put her up to. They won’t rest until they have me locked away somewhere.
Just the memory of the bullshit coming out of her mouth makes my body go hot before a sick feeling spreads through me. Like a drop of ink in a glass of water.
That must be why I laid down. She started with that bullshit and made my head hurt. It hurts now and only gets worse the harder I try to concentrate and figure things out. I should be worrying about how to get us out of here and whether Q took me seriously when I called him. For once, I need him to listen to somebody other than himself. I can’t believe there was a time I used to laugh at his bullshit.
This filthy mattress barely deserves the name. I’m pretty sure I feel every inch of the ground underneath me as I roll over, looking around in the grimy, dark room. No, it’s more like a cell. We’re both in prison. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and I can identify Scarlet huddled and shaking in the opposite corner. “Do yourself a favor,” I mutter. “Pull the back of your sweat shirt away from your skin if you haven’t lately.”
“Why would—” She stops herself before finishing the question, probably because she’s not dumb. She’s just not as used to this kind of thing as I am. This is her first time being held like this. Being beaten and whipped.
She does as she’s told, for once. I still don’t know how to feel about her or any of the things she said, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wince when I recognize the way she hisses through her teeth as the material that was stuck to her skin gets pulled free. “Good thinking,” she finally whispers once she’s finished, shaky but strong. She’s always been strong.
“How many times did they hit you?”
Her head snaps up and her eyes seek me out. Once they land on me, she sighs. “I don’t know. I lost count. It felt like a hundred, but maybe eight or ten.”
“Even one is more than enough.”
She nods, groaning, then pulls her knees up to her chest. “How are you feeling now?”
“Like I got the shit kicked out of me. But my head…” I squeeze my eyes shut when the room spins. All I tried to do was sit up, but it’s like my body has other ideas. I can barely move. Completely wiped out. How am I supposed to help either of us when I’m like this? Then again, what else is there for me to do?
“Can I ask you something?” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper, and it seems like she’s forcing it out. It must be pretty important, so I nod as much as I can with my head pounding. “Do you remember what happened before you went to sleep?”
My teeth grind together before I can help it. “Why would you throw that in my face?”
“I’m not trying to.” She sure as hell sounds defensive, though. “I’m asking a simple question. Do you remember?”
“Yeah, I remember you trying to defend yourself by making shit up.” A pain in my head takes away anything else I’m about to say. It’s like somebody’s driving an ice pick into my brain and fishing around. I don’t like showing pain—I never have—but I can’t help gripping my head in both hands like I’m afraid it will crack open otherwise.
“You’re in pain.” Dammit, even now, I hear the heavy sympathy in her voice. I don’t want to. I don’t want to think of her caring, because then that leads to a bunch of questions. How could she care and still do what she did?
“It’ll be fine,” I tell her, and maybe I’m trying to convince myself. I have to believe it will be better, or else I might totally lose it. I mean, who wants to imagine the rest of their life in agony?
“You can’t let yourself get too upset. Your blood pressure goes up and it makes your head hurt worse. Try to stay calm.”
Even through the pain, that makes me laugh. “Oh, thanks. I’ll stay calm. You just reminded me of the fight we were having and why we were having it, but sure. I’ll stay calm.”
“I know you don’t want to believe me.” Fuck, why does she have to sound so patronizing? “But it’s true. It was Luke who cleared up the mystery.”
“What mystery?”
“What happened to River.”
This again. “I told you—” I start with a growl.
“And I told you to stay calm.” If I didn’t know better, I would think it was Xander in this cell with me. She knows how to snap at a person in the right way and shut their mouth. “Luke confirmed it. I’m sorry, but it’s true. River died at Safe Haven. I know he’s very real for you, and I’m so sorry for everything you went through, but that doesn’t change the truth. You lost your brother in the worst possible way, and… I don’t know, your poor mind was trying to make sense out of it. You were so young.”
“Don’t talk like you know anything about it.”
“I know a little bit,” she whispers. I hate that. The pity, the way she tries to make it sound like she knows what this is all about just because she got whipped a few times.
“Congratulations. I wish I could say I had a prize for you.” I’m finally able to sit up without everything turning on its side, and I settle in with my back to the wall, resting my head against the cool stone. It doesn’t help much.
“I only want to help you,” Scarlet insists, because she never knows when to leave things alone. “That’s all I want. Can you remember what happened earlier? What’s the last thing you remember about the fight we were having?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“We have to,” she insists. Stubborn brat. She hasn’t changed. “It’s important. I need to know how much you remember.”
“I’m pretty sure we were having a conversation sort of like this one.”
“So you remember arguing about River?”
“Right.” Why is she torturing me? I don’t want to think. Thinking hurts too much. Trying to remember is agony. But she won’t shut up.
“Do you… remember what I told you?”
“You mean about how I’m sick? Because that’s the last thing I remember you saying.” I lift my gaze to find her staring at me with wide eyes over the top of her knees. There’s something in her expression that taps on my shoulder, trying to get my attention. What if there is something I’m forgetting? Because I don’t remember lying down. I don’t remember anything between her telling me I need help and when I woke up.
“That’s not what I meant,” she announces in a sad, shaky voice. “He came back. You became River.”
No fucking way. She’s trying to gaslight me into believing I’m crazy. There I was, thinking she betrayed me in the worst possible way. I should know by now there’s always a lower level for a person to sink to. “This is bullshit.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Do you think I have the first clue how to handle this? I’m really scared for you. I want to help you.”
“Congratulations,” I snort. “You helped me by getting yourself abducted.”
“Fine. You think you know everything?” She shakes her head like she’s disappointed in me. Like she’s the one who has something to be disappointed about. Like she was betrayed. “Then tell me. What happened before you laid down and went to sleep? Do you remember? Do you remember lying down? Do you remember what I told you before you did?”
I want to. I have to prove her wrong. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.
But I can’t remember. There’s a blank space in my memory. One second, we were fighting, and then here I was. What did she tell me? It must’ve been something important if she thinks I’m going to remember, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with anything.
And the trying makes my head hurt worse. So much worse.
“Enough questions,” I finally say.
She sighs, sounding as weary as I feel when she speaks next. “You are right. It’s not worth getting into another fight over right now. And we should really be talking about how we’re going to get out of here, anyway. Can you think of a way? You researched this place. Is there a way out before they come for us?”
I’m glad to have something else to turn my attention to, even if I don’t have any answers right away. At least the room isn’t spinning when I stand, then go to the door to listen for anybody on the other side. There are two voices out there, both men, far enough away that I can’t make out what they’re saying. They sound bored, if anything. Like all of this means nothing, like they’re just hanging out until their shift is up. Because in the end, they don’t care. They can’t care. How else could they live with themselves if they did?
“The best thing we can hope for is to overtake one of them when they come in.” Turning to Scarlet, I explain, “We can say you need help or something, and then?—”
Even I jump at the gunfire that cuts through the air and kills the peaceful silence outside. Scarlet jumps up with her head swinging back-and-forth as more and more of the rapid-fire shots fill the air. Then there’s the shouting—confused orders flying back-and-forth, voices overlapping in panic.
Finally, a siren begins to wail. The compound has been breached.
“What is it, do you think?” It’s only when I register the heat from her body that I realize she’s standing close to me. I wrap an arm around her shoulders out of habit more than anything else, and I wish it didn’t feel so right. I wish I could trust her again.
There are more gunshots, so many more, before I finally realize what we’re hearing. “He believed me.”
“What? Who?” she asks, raising her voice to be heard over the chaos. “What are you talking about?”
“I called Q. I had to. I gave him our coordinates and told him to get here to help you. I was afraid he didn’t believe me.”
There are pounding footfalls outside the door, and I pull Scarlet away from it, putting myself between her and whatever’s coming. Even if it is Xander and a small army who came through the gate, there’s a chance Rebecca comes in here and finishes us off to make sure nobody spills her secrets to the world.
It isn’t Rebecca who comes charging through, though. “Scarlet?” Xander grunts. There’s a semi-automatic in his right hand, raised like he’s ready to fire.
“Dad!” She throws herself at him and regrets it right away, flinching with a gasp when he touches her back.
“What did they do to you?” In the dim light streaming in from outside, it’s easier to see what the darkness hid. The ugly blood stains tell a painful story that can’t be denied.
“Did you find Rebecca?” I ask Xander as he stares at his daughter’s back. At first, I wonder if he heard me; his jaw ticks and his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say a word.
When he does, he sounds like an animal ready to charge. “No. She slipped out of our grasp, but I’m not stopping until she’s finished.” He tucks the gun into his waistband before taking Scarlet’s face between his hands. “What did they do to you?”
Instead of crumbling and sobbing the way most people would after what she’s been through, Scarlet stiffens her spine. “I’m stronger than I look. But I would very much like to get out of here.”
He shakes off whatever was holding him still and gives her his leather jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “Come on. We’re going home.”
He pauses, then looks my way over the top of her head. “All of us.”