Chapter 27
I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been here.
With every small move I make, the ache travels from my bound wrists to my secured ankles.
The air smells like mildew when I try to breathe through the burlap bag over my head.
It chokes me, transporting me to when Malik had me muzzled.
Only then, I was relaxed because I was in trusted hands.
Now, mine shake not from fear, but from blinding madness. I want to scream, but I hold back. I know better than to beg anyone for anything. I’m going to show them what a grave mistake they’ve made. One by one, they’re going to wish they had left me alone.
And the one to pay the most will be the one person I’ve been fighting my entire life.
My father.
If he thinks I’ll sit here and tremble, he’s underestimated me once again. They’re all going to die, and I don’t care if I end up rotting in prison for the rest of my life. I won’t let them do whatever they did to me…not again.
I’m not that girl anymore.
The bruises on my neck are tender and sore.
They’ve been unsuccessful in getting me to forget.
It seems my body has built some sort of tolerance to the drug they’ve been giving me, so they’ve decided to up the dose.
The headaches, the fevers and body pains are all byproducts of this drug and not once have they subsided.
The burlap mask is yanked from my head, the fluorescent light blazing straight into my eyes. “I get to have you all to myself today.” The man’s low voice drifts over to me, but his words don’t make it through anymore.
Think, Isla, what can you use around you?
I shift, and the chains tighten as my eyes land on a billiard table, the balls stacked neatly on top.
The man looks to be in his fifties. Short, stocky build, fitted blazer with grey streaks in his brunet hair.
He looks fami—No, it cannot be. It’s the prosecution!
The one I was supposed to meet before Malik found me pressed against a tree.
He’s never liked me. From the moment I started practising law and taking on cases ‘too big for my shoes’, as he liked to say, he constantly found a way to undermine me.
“So this is why you lured me out into the park?” I smile, the pounding in my head relentless, like it’s trying to kill me. “You’re part of whatever sick, twisted shit goes on here.”
The back of his hand smacks against my cheek, a sting so painful, it makes my eyes water. “You have no idea what trouble you’ve created, do you?”
I don’t. But I’m going to find out.
“We’re trying to make the world a better place.”
“By erasing memories?” I spit, and my saliva, tinged with blood, seeps into the Persian rug.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Man-splain it to me. I’m sure it’ll give you a nice little ego boost.” I smirk, watching his lip twist into a sneer.
Thick fingers grip me by my throat, his face so close to mine, I can smell the rotting in his teeth. “I’ve never liked you,” he growls with anger.
“I’m heartbroken,” I say with mirth I didn’t know I was capable of.
He tightens his hold, cutting the air from my lungs, the pressure rising to my eyes.
I hope he does it. I hope he fucking kills me so I won’t have to kill all of them. Because when I get out of these chains, I’m not going to hold back.
“D-do it,” I choke out, and he releases me, pushing me to the ground. My shoulder hits the floor with a loud crack, searing agony pulsing through my arm.
“Looks like you’ve popped your shoulder. Better run to Malik to fix it for you,” he says, straightening his tailored blazer.
I breathe through the excruciating pain, keeping my exterior cool and collected.
They’ll never fucking see me cry.
Even if I die from the shock.
“It’s not him you should be worried about.”
“I don’t know, you look pretty helpless to me.” His fingers grip the hair at the top of my head and pull my neck back. “At least a man would put up a fight.”
I spit in his face, and he rears back.
“You fucking whore!”
His boot clashes with my ribs, and I feel the crack as I hunch into myself, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Judge Gordon thinks he’s getting his daughter back, but with your resurfaced memories, I doubt Benedict would ever let that happen.”
“Why?” I croak, shielding my ribs with my knees. “Is he afraid I’ll finally expose you all for what you are?”
His maniacal laughter reverberates off the walls. “You still believe you’re getting out of here?” He crouches down, looking straight into my eyes. “You’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in here, wishing you were dead.”
“Joke’s on you, Samuel Hayes, because I’m not afraid of death.”
A door creaks open, and the soft clunks of steps grow louder, but I watch Samuel, never breaking eye contact with him, making a promise to myself, this very second, that he’ll be the first one I kill.
He turns to Benedict, now standing with his guards. “Why is it no longer working on her?”
“My technician tells me her body has generated antibodies that are attacking the substance anytime we inject it,” Benedict answers him, then turns to me. “But we’re not out of options yet.”
“Why don’t we just ruin her, then gut her and leave her in a drain somewhere to die?”
“Because even we have ethics.”
“Your ethics are disgraceful,” I say through the pain in my shoulder and ribs.
Benedict laughs, crouching beside me. “And you believe yours are any better? Lying with that criminal, working for the most notorious gangster, who has been accused of a drug trade so big, it’d make the Cartels look like they smuggle pixie dust…
and still, you stay on that fucking high horse, looking down on all of us when we’re just trying to make—”
“The world a better place. Yeah, I got it. So why do you want to hide it? Why don’t you ask Big Pharma to back your so-called grand saviour of their treasured citizens?”
He remains silent, unable to give me an answer.
“I’ll tell you why, because all of you are the worst of them.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, someone shut her up,” Samuel says, lighting a cigarette in the enclosed space.
Benedict extends the syringe, and I rear back, not making it very far before there’s a sting in my neck, the fluid rushing through my veins.
“We’ll see after this new formula if she can still remember.” Benedict’s wicked smile is the last thing I see before the black fog overcomes me again.
“I need to pee,” I say in a croaky voice, doing my best to hide that my fingers are slowly going numb from being tied up. They’ve offered me food and water, but I’ve refused it all.
The man in front of me twiddles his thumbs, glancing around the room. He looks like he’s probably shorter than me by a few inches and is definitely a new recruit. It’s only us in here.
“You can wait until the others come back. They’ll be here soon.”
“Unless you want a puddle on this thousand-pound rug, you’ll undo these chains and let me relieve myself.”
He considers my words and sighs, moving toward me. “Fine, but the wrist chains stay on.”
Slowly, he slips the key through the hole in the chains around my ankles, and they clatter to the floor. Curling his arm in mine, he helps me up, and I wince at the pain in my dislocated shoulder. “How do you expect me to wipe myself?”
He bites his lip, then goes against whatever he was thinking as he shakes his head. “Fine, but don’t make me fucking regret this.”
Oh, you bet I will.
He walks me to the door where the joint bathroom is and slips the key into the lock.
It clicks, and our eyes meet. Just as they do, I see the clarity in his, realising he’s fucked up.
The adrenaline burns through me, lighting a fire I plan to continue fuelling as I smack my head into his.
The room blurs for a moment, and I chuckle through his aggravated screams.
Nothing about this is funny, but I revel in knowing I’ve lost all my hopes of ever returning to my old life, knowing what I do now.
Reaching over to the billiard table, I yank a ball off and slug him with it across the face, hitting and possibly chipping his two front teeth as he falls to the floor, his blood now gushing down his chin.
I work quickly, pressing my shoulder into the corner of the archway, biting my hand through the agony.
Almost there, just a little more.
I force my weight onto it, and when it pops back into place, I feel like I almost see God as I press my eyes shut, the pounding in my ears louder than the blood now rushing to the joint. It still hurts, but at least I have some range of motion back.
“You chipped my fucking tooth!” the man says with a lisp as he works to get himself off the floor.
Grabbing another two balls in my hand, I hit him again before he can reach for his gun. Swiping it from his belt, I hold it up. I have no idea what my plan is, but I know tonight, I’ll do everything in my power to get out of this place.
He raises his hands, now covered in spit and blood.
“Open your mouth.”
“What?” he asks, voice shaking.
“Open your fucking mouth!”
“Please, don’t…Let me just put your chains on and we can pretend this never happened,” he whispers, tears forming in his eyes. “They’ll kill me.”
“Sounds to me like you’re out of fucking options.” Pressing the gun to his head, I force his jaw down and shove the ball into his mouth, but his teeth are stopping it from going all the way in.
“You saw everything, and you still choose to work with these sick people.” I spit on his face, his eyes closing, too scared to make a move in fear that I might pull the trigger.
Joke’s on him because I’m about to do something a lot worse.
I push onto the ball, but it doesn’t budge.
Stepping back, my foot lands hard onto it, the sound of teeth being crushed the only audible thing in the room… beside his muffled screams, of course.
If this is the last thing I ever do, I want it to mean something.
I want them to pay for what they’ve done.