Chapter 3
Addison
The all-too-familiar needle woke me up. I remember the burning, the aching, the screaming.
I won’t let it happen again. Never again.
I yank my arm away from the man with the needle. He’s different, not like the doctors who have held me against tables and forced drugs into my system before. But that doesn’t mean he’s safe.
I sit upright, my muscles aching even more than they were last night from sprinting as far as I did. My spine crashes against wood, and I scream. My mouth is open, and all I hear is the shrill, broken shrieks I manage to let out.
The man with the needle backs up. He sets it down, holding his hands in the air in front of him. Then another man sits down on the edge of the bed.
My focus is on him in an instant. He’s saying something that I can’t quite make out over my own yells.
I expect him to launch at me, to wrap his hands around my arms and clasp a collar around my neck again. But it doesn’t happen. This man, a true stranger to me, is just trying to calm me down.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” he says. I barely hear it as I take a breath.
I study his face. He’s young, not like most of the people I’ve grown up with. His short hair is black, and his eyes are a green I’ve only ever dreamed of. Like what I imagined grass in a sunny meadow might look like on a beautiful day.
A dream that kept me going when I was in so much pain.
There’s something familiar about him. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen him before. The idea of that makes me wary of him, but I feel something in my chest telling me that I can relax. That I can trust him. The idea is so foreign to me that it is almost absurd.
His face feels like a memory, like I might have dreamed of him at some point in my life. It feels impossible, but I know him. I have to.
“I promise, nobody here wants to hurt you. We want to help,” he says. He doesn’t smile, but something in his eyes tells me he’s not lying.
The doctors would lie to me all the time. They told me they were helping me, but I saw the evil in their eyes. He doesn’t have that.
The older man with the syringe takes a step forward. “I know you’re frightened right now, and all of us understand that. But it appears to us that you’ve been drugged, and I was going to give you medicine to help clear that out of your system. To make you feel better.”
His eyes are filled with concern, just like the man on the bed. But hearing that explanation doesn’t sit right with me.
“H–how could you know that?” I whisper, my heartbeat quickening again. “You can’t know that I was drugged unless you did it yourself.”
The man at the foot of the bed shuffles, and I immediately look at him, wary of whatever is happening now. He takes a breath in and wrinkles his eyebrows as he watches me.
“Don’t you feel that?” he asks. “The bond between us? I’m your mate. You’re safe here with us.”
Mate? I don’t know what he means, yet something about it sounds right.
Even as I try to deny it in my head, I’m reminded of that invisible rope I felt guiding me through the woods. That’s gone now that I’m sitting here in front of him. I don’t know if it’s because I’m safe or if it’s because of whatever happened when I... transformed into something else.
I just shake my head.
It’s only a momentary flicker, but I see sadness in his eyes. He’s not angry because I’m not doing what he wants, like I’m so used to. But sadness.
“Let’s save that conversation for another time,” another voice says behind them. This man is taller and broader, with similar dark hair and dark eyes. “We found you in the woods like this. You’re covered in injuries, and we have no idea where you came from. Can you tell us about that?”
“How did you wind up in the woods like this?” the green-eyed man asks. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, I see a flicker of anger in his eyes.
That scares me at first, but I can clearly see that it’s not directed at me. He’s mad at something else, but I don’t know what it is quite yet.
“I don’t want to answer questions,” I whisper, raising my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them to make myself as small as possible.
The green-eyed man lets out a small huff and looks over his shoulder at the other two. “Could you guys give us some time alone?”
The other two nod their heads, the older man grabbing a large bag off the floor and putting the needle back inside. They close the door behind them, and I’m left sitting on the bed across from the green-eyed man.
It’s clear to me he wanted to be left alone because he thought I would do better with just him. I don’t know if that will be the case, though.
I’m terrified. I have no idea where I am. The only thing I know is that I’m not in my small cell, freezing with the one rough blanket they gave me, grating against my skin.
This room is much nicer than anything I’ve known. It’s warm, and the bed is plush with soft fabrics beneath me. A part of me wants to sink into the covers and collapse to rest. But I don’t know that I could ever rest if I don’t feel safe where I am.
This is the first time I’ve ever been away from home. If I could call the facility, I was at home, anyway. It’s just the only thing I’ve ever really known.
I know there was a home there before I was. Somewhere, I must have been born, where I must have had a family. But I don’t remember anything about it. Those cold concrete floors and startlingly white halls are the only things I know.
“Would you like to take a bath?” he asks. His voice is soft, and there’s a gentle look in his eyes. “I know you must be exhausted, and the warm water will do wonders to soothe your muscles. Plus, you’re covered in grime from being in the woods.”
“I don’t know what—” I grimace as I try to think about what he means. “I’ve only taken showers.”
Even the thought of that now sends a shiver through me. A shower at the facility meant I was stripped naked and forced into water that was either far too hot or cold enough to make my skin crawl while an armed guard stood watch.
He stands from the bed and walks away from me. There’s a door at the far end of the room that he pushes open, revealing a lavatory inside. From what I can see from here, it’s much nicer than what I’m used to.
The one at the facility was cold and dark, with sterile white tiles covering the walls and the floor. There was a bathroom with a toilet, and a drain in the center to collect the water from the showers.
He kneels behind a large cream-colored tub. He turns on a stream of water and holds his hand under it.
I’m suddenly aware that I could run away.
I could dash to the door and find my way out of the house and escape before any of them have a chance to catch me.
I’ve done it before, escaping guards that are far scarier than any of them.
But even as the thought crosses my mind, the familiar clawing I felt all these years whimpers inside me. Like it’s sad about leaving.
I don’t know why, but I tell myself I can trust that. I’m still wary of this house and everyone in it, and of their intentions toward me. But right now, I go with this feeling in my gut and decide to stay.
The man walks back out of the bathroom toward me, gently holding out a hand. “I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt you. You’ll soon realize why. But right now, this bath will help you a lot.”
I hesitate for a moment before taking his hand. He helps me stand, and I’m acutely aware of being naked in front of him. But that’s only a momentary feeling before my legs practically give out under my weight.
He rushes forward to catch me so I don’t fall, and my entire body tenses. “It’s okay,” he assures me as he wraps his arm around my waist and guides me toward the bathroom.
I follow, in spite of every part of myself screaming that I shouldn’t trust this.
Once we’re in the bathroom, he lifts me effortlessly and lowers me slowly into the tub, until the warm water engulfs me.
It’s the perfect temperature. Not hot enough to scald my skin or irritate any of my wounds, and not too cold.
There are some suds and bubbles, and I smell a pleasant floral scent that makes it all the more inviting.
“It’s nice, right?” he asks, sitting on the tile beside the tub. “My sister is really big on bath oils and things like that. She makes them all herself, and it’s her default gift around the holidays.”
“Holidays?” I wrinkle my eyebrows.
“Like birthdays and Christmas,” he answers with a shrug. When that doesn’t clear anything up for me, he wrinkles his eyebrows. “You know what that is, right?”
I don’t say anything, and I suppose that’s enough of an answer.
He grabs a circular blue sponge from a hook on the wall and covers it in some kind of liquid, squeezing it around until more suds form. He reaches for my shoulder tenderly and brushes it against me.
I look down as dirt that has been clinging to my skin is washed away, revealing the pale white underneath.
“What happened to you?” he asks, his green eyes landing on mine. “Who are you? You don’t seem to know about a lot of things. Common things that everyone knows.”
I don’t say anything. I just look down at the water.
“Can you tell us where you came from? Who hurt you?” he continues asking. I still don’t reply. “I know it’s got to be hard for you to trust us. And I’m sure you have a good reason. We can help you, but only if you tell us what brought you to the woods.”
He waits a moment like he’s expecting me to fill in the silence. A part of me wonders if I should, but an even bigger part thinks that all of this could just be a trap.
What if they let me get away? What if this is some test that I’ll fail the moment my confession slips from my lips?
I can’t risk that. “My name is Zeke, by the way,” he says after a few moments of silence. “Can you at least tell me what your name is?”
I don’t plan to answer. The less these people know about me, the better. But then again, what can knowing my name really hurt?
“Addison.” The word feels strange on my lips. I haven’t heard it in ages. I’ve been referred to as “the patient” or “the girl” for far too long.
Even though I’m afraid, I tell him because a part of me, deep down, trusts him. I can’t explain why, and the thought of that is unnerving. How am I supposed to trust anyone if I can’t even trust my own feelings?