23. Anastasia
Igroan, waking as if I partied far too hard last night. Did I drink too much at Lumina?
No ... I never got inside.
I lick my bone-dry lips and try to gather some moisture in my mouth, which feels like sandpaper. Whatever they used to knock me out was powerful shit. My panic is there, it’s just that my body has all the motivation of a rock to move, so I can’t lunge up and start pounding on the metal door.
Metal.
Where the fuck am I?
The walls are cushioned in what I think is soundproof foam.
Oh god. Why would that be necessary? I start to force myself out of my comatose state with the adrenaline coursing stronger each minute.
I’m on a small bed. In the room there’s a desk with some paper and pencils on it. Considerate of them to leave me weapons. I train my eyes on the plastic cup of water and bite my lip at the ache of my dormant muscles when I’m too eager to reach it. I gulp down the liquid greedily, some of it trickling down my chin.
Alistair must have been waiting, perhaps knowing I wouldn’t get into Lumina, and now he knows it was all a lie. This is my punishment. Solitude. Silence. For failing in his task.
My lip wobbles as I think of Rhett in my loneliness. How many times was he subjected to this absolute nothingness? With the soundproofing, it’s like I’ve only just discovered the true meaning of silence.It’s not a pleasant or even fascinating discovery. I’ve only been awake for a few minutes and I’m frightened by it, how nothing has even a little echo and I’m scared to try my voice. Only if they opened the door would I feel like I was actually part of the world still, not a foreign object floating in space.
I sit back on the bed and hug my knees to my chest.
Don’t cry, little bird.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I have to keep my mind strong, or this place could break me. I don’t know how long Alistair intends to lock me in here. The door has a slot for food and a small hatch above it. Other than that, I have no contact.
I find a camera in the corner of the room and my skin crawls. I want to hide, but there’s nowhere to do so. I’m fully exposed for them to watch me like a lab rat and observe what the slow madness might do to me.
Then I remember my parents. They expect me every Sunday for dinner.
My small flicker of hope winks out. I have no doubt Alistair will have my phone, and with all the times I’ve made excuses before, one text is all it would take for them not to be concerned.
Adam and Rix may know what’s happened, but there’s nothing they can do. They’ll just have to wait until I’m released. Two weeks maximum, I think. At least, I would like to believe my father still cares enough that he’ll insist on a wellness check if I skip out of more than two dinners in a row.
Though I still turn cold and scared at the thought of spending fourteen days in here.
I don’t know what to do. I thought Alistair would see me awake and come to talk and tell me all he knows, gloat about my punishment. I would at least find out how long I’ve been out and how many days he plans to keep me here.
No one comes.
Maybe it’s the silence already driving me mad and I’m counting the minutes as hours. My chest constricts. Shit, has he restricted the air in here too? My eyes flutter, and I lean against the wall for balance.
I’m going to die in here.
I shake my head, not understanding why I can’t calm the fuck down.
“Breathe, Ana,” I tell myself in a hushed, eerie whisper. It’s as if the words don’t really leave my lips—there’s nothing for the sound to rebound off.
This is a sick, twisted method of torture.
My anxiety is rising rapidly. Blood soaring. Forehead slicking. Chronic pacing.
I realize what’s happening, and that only makes it worse.
It’s happened to me once before—a panic attack so vicious they say the symptoms are like a heart attack.
I can’t let it happen here. Not fucking here.
My body isn’t hearing me though.
I just want Rhett. I think of how he would hold me, how he would know what to do. I think of the time he caught me in the maze, and how I might have spiraled to this state then had he not been there. I can’t explain how he reaches my mind like no one else can. How his touch soothes any ache, even those deep and hidden to everyone. Not to him. No part of me has ever been hidden to him, and I need him now.
I . . . shatter.
Sinking to my knees, I break into a violent cry.
I want to tear out the thing pounding like a caged beast in my chest, because it’s causing me so much pain I think I might stop breathing to kill it instead.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.
My consciousness starts to slip, and I let it. I don’t want this pain anymore.
“Ana.”
I think someone says my name, but I don’t want to listen. It’s not Rhett. I want them to let me go.
Instead strong arms encircle me. They don’t stop my rocking; they move with me.
“Just breathe,” they say, so calm, and younger than I expected. “Shit, I don’t know what I’m doing. Uh, what color is grass, Ana?”
What did he ask?I can’t focus. I can’t breathe.
“Shit. Okay. Uhh—” His arms tighten, and the pressure helps. I think his mouth leans to my ear with his next quiet words. “What color are Rhett’s eyes?”
Rhett’s eyes.
“Blue,” I wheeze.
“Good. Yes. Keep going.”
“They’re like . . . a clear ocean blue . . .” I say.
I close my eyes and think of only his irises.
Breathe, little bird.
“Sometimes they look darker in the night,” I whisper. God, I miss how my heart skips and my stomach flutters every time he looks at me. How they make me feel like I’m the only person in the world.
I’m so exhausted I don’t even care about the stranger’s arms around me. At least it’s someone. The door is cracked open, and seeing there’s space beyond this terrible cage begins to calm me.
“Good. This is good, I think.”
He sounds kind of panicked, and that makes me curious. I wouldn’t expect any of Alistair’s men to have consideration for me. In fact, I bet most of them would enjoy seeing me this way after I walked around their halls as Alistair’s precious prized pet.
It makes me wonder if we’re in his manor. No—why would they blindfold and drug me to get me here? They don’t want me to be able to identify this place. Another curious thing.
It’s what reels me back to feeling like myself again. The prickling heat over my skin starts to subside. The cloudiness in my mind starts to dissipate. I’m about to ease out of the stranger’s arms, but they tighten on me as I do.
He leans his mouth to my ear again, and I lock still.
“I hoped we’d meet under far better circumstances,” he whispers.
We’re still rocking. We have our backs to the camera.
“Who are you?” I dare to ask.
“My name is Jeremy.”
I breathe a shallow gasp. This isn’t real.
“Jeremy,” I repeat, like this an illusion I’ve conjured in my panicked delirium.
“Have you been to Xoid HQ yet?” he asks. “How are Frodo and Sam? Just say they’re missing me so I can feel like someone will be happy to see me when I get out of this.”
My eyes flood. Jeremy is holding me. Rix’s little brother. I’m both so, so relieved and absolutely terrified he’s here.
“Yes, I have. Rix is so worried about you,” I whisper.
“He’s always like that. I was the only one who could do this. Alistair has a particular interest in young ones. Sick bastard likes to think he’s crafting us. He believes I’m sixteen.”
I don’t know what he looks like yet, but my gut twists with the thought of how many other young people end up in the wrong hands. The lost ... Had they just wandered a different path, perhaps Xoid could have found them first.
“Where are we?” I dread his answer.
“Some stupidly pretentious country club. You’re great to hug, by the way.”
I’m trying to calculate with that information.
“Have you seen Rix or Adam?”
“Sullevan? Why the hell would they be together? Rix hates that guy after hearing all about his possible involvement in chopping your hair, the ass he was to you regardless. I think we’d need to keep a chaperone with them.”
“You thought Adam was responsible for my attack?”
“Rhett did. There was pretty strong evidence in our investigations. Anyway, besides the point.”
“Rix and Adam traced your location to a country club Adam’s dad frequents. Last I saw them a few weeks ago, they were trying to get Rolf to take them along to see why you’d be here.”
“Well, shit,” Jeremy mutters. “No, haven’t seen ’em. Though I’m mostly down here or watching what ... goes on. This is basically a pick-up point.”
My stomach plummets at the sinister meaning.
“Is Rhett here?”
“No. Sorry, Red. But I got the confirmation he’s somewhere, because they’ve been boasting about him up topside. They call him the White Knight. Like, what is this—some lame-ass budget DC comic in the making? Anyway, they say he’s deadly. That he’ll kill anyone, no questions, no limits.”
I’m going to be sick.
“Rhett would never.”
“Of course not. It has to be against his will, and there are only two things he’d cave to save: Xoid or you. And we’d know if there was a threat to us.”
“Oh my god,” I say. All this time ... has Alistair been threatening him with killing me?
“Don’t panic—please. That scared the shit out of me. I thought you might die in my arms.”
A deeper, more vicious new voice rattles me.
“What the fuck is taking so long? Let the bitch suffer.”
Jeremy’s arms tighten a fraction. Then he releases me.
“We were told to make sure she lives, and that wouldn’t have been the damned case if we’d left her for a moment longer,” Jeremy snaps back.
I tense, turning to find a man twice his size in every way. Certainly far older, and as ugly as he sounds. Then I look up at Jeremy as he stands, and I’m close to falling apart. He shouldn’t be here. He’s too young and joyous, with curly brown hair and boyish brown eyes. He easily passes for a more mature-looking sixteen-year-old.
“Looks fine to me,” the man grunts.
I cower back on the bed, too tired to even glower at that asshole. He isn’t worth the effort. I can’t even shift my expression from Jeremy with the man and the camera watching. I have to pretend I’m just as cold to his company as the rest of them.
So I look away, lying down and giving them my back. The more I sleep, the less I’ll have to endure the coming days, or weeks, in this solitude of hell.