11. Sharkie
Date: 5-5-2024
Time: unknown
“I’m so sorry Cordi, the ship… your parents didn’t make it.” The words fade in and out as a voice tries to walk me through the information just received.
I’m drowning beneath the salted tears that streak my cheeks, yet large hands grab at me, trying to pull me from my inevitable fate and drag me to the surface. My body is wracking with chills. I feel weighted with the invisible water that fills my lungs. Feeling how my parents must’ve been as they fought to break the surface, that’s if the explosion didn’t take them out at once.
“You’re lying!” I scream, but I know it’s the truth. Rage and sorrow mix into a dangerous cocktail. It’s all Depth’s fault. He doesn’t have to spell it out when I know it. They were in their waters. It only makes sense.
“I want him dead. I want his blood to paint the sand like my parents float the sea.”
There’s a throbbing in my temple and a hollow hole forming in my chest.
“Just fucking breathe.” Dutton mumbles as I drop to the floor in front of him.
Everything hurts.
I’m getting sick of waking up with a headache. Over the last two days, I’ve been in and out of consciousness. But it brings me to the reality that I’m here, I’m in the place I’m supposed to be and somehow, soon enough, this will all be over and I’ll accomplish everything I’ve set out to do. I push my palms into my eyes, trying to force the headache out. Straightening my body, I look down at my hands, which are now free to move. My motives subside as I think about how I am likely free to take a shower. A shudder runs down my spine, only able to imagine how greasy my hair is by now.
The door swinging open has me pushing back against the medical bed. A pretty girl with blonde hair tied up in a neat bun steps in with a look of disgust.
“Get up, let’s go.” Her accent is clearly American, a lot more of a twang from northern states than mine, but it’s prominent. It makes me wonder why she’s looking at me like I’m the traitor here.
“You can ask nicely. I highly doubt she’s going to bite you,” a voice behind her purrs. The man steps into view. His dirty blonde hair unruly, his jaw chiseled but round at his chin, giving him a softer look. But his eyes are haunted, so brown they’re almost black. “You aren’t going to bite, are you?”
I shake my head. I don’t know if I’m saying ‘no, I’m not gonna bite’, or if I’m refusing to go with them. I’m reluctant to leave this spot until I have a plan. I pull the cool thin blanket higher over my body. If I feel filthy. I feel… vulnerable.
“I might.” I tilt my chin up, despite my hoarse voice and flash my teeth in a sarcastic smile at the two of them, with a particularly long lingering stare at the woman.
She lets out a very over dramatic sigh. Although she is dressed in fatigues, her shirt isn’t quite right and her boots aren’t laced properly. She’s no soldier, they’re just passing her as one.
“My colleagues—” I look at the man.
“None.” He states in a tone that I don’t care for. My heart clenches in my chest. I wish I’d never have been pulled from that water, but I was. Others would never see the light of day again, like the news I once received, their families would get the same. I couldn't care less about the lives I take, but the lives I lose are a different story. An unwelcome feeling claws at my throat up to my tear ducts. I was so close to Daymen, my fingertips were right there. Tide will pay.
I wrap the blanket around my body, swallowing my emotions down, and stand, because even if I’m a prisoner, no one is going to see me as a fucking mess. My legs wobble, causing the man’s hand to curl around my arm, stabilizing my stance.
“ Thank you .” My voice comes out barely a whisper. He looks at me confused. I may have manners now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kill him later.
“Jasmine, hold the door.” He barks as she scoffs at my hunched stance. I wonder if there is a sharp object anywhere in here.
“If you’re going to disobey orders, you can dismiss yourself. Tide sent you with me because he thought a female would ease her into cooperating. I’ll be sure to tell him later how wrong he was.”
My head lifts to look at Jasmine. I guess that hit a rough spot. The pure look of defeat on her face has my lip twitching to a smile that I refuse to hide. She slams the door open and storms off, leaving me to wonder why the hell Tide cared if I cooperated or not. Maybe the doctor complained enough about having to sedate me, so he needed to change tactics. The hall is so narrow it's suffocating.
“Where are we going?” I brace my hand against the wall to keep most of the pressure off of him. I don’t want his help, he’s not threatening, obviously, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.
“Your room.” he pauses and glances at me when he feels my body shifting out of his grasp. The amusement rolls off him and onto me, his lips folding between his teeth like he was trying not to laugh. He continues helping me up a few steps before I have to pause and catch my breath. “There’s a space for a shower, toilet, and fresh clothes. Oh, and there will be food. You need to eat something. After you bathe, of course.”
My chin tilts up. I don’t care how nice this place is, I’m still a prisoner here. My stomach growls, but instead of acknowledging it this time, I ignore it. If Tide can’t even face me, then I’ll force him too. After all, I’m alive for a reason. It would test how valuable I am if I’m slowly starving to death.
The concrete walls turn whiter, and light filters through the windows along the marble floors, making it seem brighter than it is. The sun is so warm I have to pause, basking in the glow for a moment. They say the sun can heal many things but the few times I’ve been in this country, I’ve hardly ever seen it, so I’m going to take it in while I still can.
He nudges my shoulder, causing me to stumble forward. Regaining my balance, I go to kick his shin in retaliation. Then I stop myself, aggravating the enemy isn’t the best idea. But surely one little kick wouldn’t hurt?
I purse my lips through my thoughts—now I see why Karma frequently makes comments about my brain being twisted. We turn into a separate corridor, bringing a large metal door into view at the end. I have to steady my breathing. I know what a cell looks like when I see one. Even though we never held any Depth members in ours, Dutton ensured I was well acquainted with small spaces and almost anything that could happen behind closed doors.
There are two guards stationed on either end of the hall with flashing red dots peeking out of the corners of the ceiling. One of them nods.
“Sam.”
The man holding me replies. “Morning, boys. Shall we get on with it?”
One of the guards slides a card over a small black box and Sam uses the tip of his boot to nudge it open. The push of his palm between my shoulder blades has me stumbling as he lets the door slam shut. So much for being on good terms, huh?
A camera is the first thing that catches my attention, placed right in the corner, giving a full view of the room, and as I look over, the shower. I turn and bang my fist against the door. Any panic I once felt dissipated into pure rage. I’m cooperating, there is no reason for me to be so closely watched. What did they think I would do, fashion a knife out a bar of fucking soap?
After a moment, I lose my breath and let out an aggravated yell which rasps out my lungs and breaks into silence halfway through, though my face reddens with the desperate effort to make more sound. Panting, my eyes lock on the camera. As I stalk toward it I pull off the sweats they put me in and throw them over the lens. If I can’t beat my way out of here, I’ll play the long game. My actions verge on uncooperative, fast tracking me to becoming the most annoying person being they’ve had the displeasure of holding hostage. Feeling free at last, I strip down and step up onto the square concrete slab. There’s no shower door, just the open cubicle with the shower head facing me.
It doesn’t take long for the water to warm as it hits my skin, making the muscles in my body instantly relax. I half expected pure ice to come from the pipes; this is certainly a nice surprise. The soap they left me smells fresh and clean and does a decent job of washing away the memories that cling with the salt and dirt to my skin. But there are bruises and cuts and marks on me that won’t be so easily forgotten. The water flows over my head, but I feel myself tense as it trickles through my brows forcing me to close my eyes. I see things in the darkness, I feel the water as I try to swim. The surface above glowing orange, there are pieces floating that I’m trying to avoid. I’m trying to surface, I’m—
I step back, gasping for air. I don’t know how long I had stood under the water, but I don’t need flashbacks. Not now. I begin to hum to myself, the gentle vibrations distracting me from the suffocating small space. I don’t want to stay here, but getting out means returning to my new reality.
Eventually, I cut the shower off. A dry towel hanging over a bolted rail stares back. It’s not nearly big enough to cover anything but my torso, if that. So, I have a better idea.
My feet leave wet prints as I cross the room to the camera, reaching up and removing the sweats I’d thrown on it earlier. I stand there, naked, facing that lens and staring hard enough that I can see my reflection staring back. Here I am you motherfucking asshole. Is this what you wanted? The wet drops falling from my hair follow my body with each step I take around the room, finally able to get a good view of the olive-green barren walls, a full-size bed resting in the middle with clean, tan sheets. As I dry my body, I wish I would’ve had a razor. Those would feel so good on smooth skin.
There are no decorations and nothing to entertain me, but honestly, I should’ve seen that coming. This isn’t some five-star hotel—though it’s far better than what I’ve endured before. Not cold or dark, and there hasn't been a soldier barge through the door to corner me. I’ll be sure to add an extra star on the review of my stay for the presence of furniture and the free add-on of personal security. Truly very thoughtful of them.
In the corner, under a large, hazed window—through which I’m still able to make out the sky—a steel chair sits, with a pile of fresh clothes resting on the seat. The fact it’s bolted to the ground doesn’t escape my attention.
I saunter over to pick them up. A plain olive t-shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts seem to be the best this place can provide. When I lift the top, pinching it by the shoulders to examine it, a sports bra and a pair of underwear fall out. Good, because I was about to freak out if I continued to be treated like some perverted exhibition.
Pulling them on, the faintest smell of a cigar wafts off, fogging my senses and bringing a new wave of anger over me. Him . It’s him watching me in here. I almost want to pull the fabric back off me but a knock at the door pulls my attention away to a familiar little foul-mouthed teen.
“You didn’t get caught, did you?!”
I want to move over to him, but instead I hold my ground and cross my arms over my chest. His eyes move to the camera, only drawing that same faded smile to his face. He steps in and plops down on the edge of the bed. That’s when I notice the little red light…It’s now off.
“Uh yeah, I did, but it’s okay.” His voice is low.
Shit . I wonder what he did to this boy. I try to disguise my collapse as me simply sitting down on the steel chair, the freezing metal making me wince as it touches the backs of my thighs. I glance across at the slightly open door, taunting me with the possibility of escape. Patience. I have it, I can do this.
“Don’t worry, there’s no one there. I told them he wanted to see them. I nabbed a key card out of Johnny's pocket as he walked away,” held up between two fingers, the plastic glints before he clasps it tightly against his leg again. There’s a change in his tone. “I didn’t think Ca–uh, Tide was uh, well–then he pulled you out of the water and honestly…”
My mouth opens to speak but is cut by the messy blonde man storming into the room, causing me to squeak from the sudden intrusion jumping and placing my body between Moe and the door. In an instant, I’m tumbling to the floor and Moe is being pulled out by his collar. I stand, ignoring the throbbing in my lower back, and allow my trained instincts to kick in.
This isn't like my training; I'm allowed to fight back here.
Number one rule that this dipshit never learned: always be aware of your surroundings. Taking the damp rag I used to cover my body, I quickly wrap it around his neck, my knee lodging into the back of his, forcing him to the floor, and making Moe fall out of his grasp.
The man's face turns a dark shade of red while I tighten the rag, cutting off any circulation that could probably flow to his pea-sized brain. He came into my space and threatened the one thing that had been decent towards me since I’d been here. He pushes his fingers under the fabric trying to ease the pressure, but I refuse to let up.
He deserves what is coming.
Moe yells something, but I’m too lost in the image of making this man suffer and meet the fate he was destined to have from the moment he joined Depth.