31
Lia
Idon’t want this. I don’t want this at all.
I was lying to myself. Lying to him, but that doesn’t matter; it wouldn’t have changed the outcome anyway.
Still, I should have resisted. I said ‘okay’, but it wasn’t. It’s not okay, and I’m not, either.
The first day I spent angrily circling the cage, rattling the bars and punching at them until my knuckles turned black and blue. The second, I’ve been lying on the ground beside the bed, waiting passively and staring at one of the cameras as I feel the first threads of my sanity leave me.
After that first moment when the memories forced themselves back into my foggy brain, I never felt like I was on the point of losing them again. But now, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not amnesia that threatens me, but confusion.
People who love you don’t leave you in cages, or watch you on camera and see that you’re lying on the ground without moving for hours on end, and not do a thing about it.
Little by little, the confusion grows stronger, until it’s overtaken the rest. Until it’s not confusion anymore, but pain, loud and sharp.
It takes the opening of the door and the guard bringing in a tray for me to rise out of my stupor. But I don’t do a thing as he pushes it through the trapdoor, merely waiting for him to take it away again, untouched. He doesn’t comment on it.
People who love you don’t let you starve.
But Logan doesn’t love me.
Maybe he never has. I should have realized the first time he tried to kill me all those years ago. Maybe I did know it; maybe I forgot.
I won’t forget now.
That last tray was dinner. At least there’s a clock on the wall, and I can see the time, or I’m pretty sure my brain would unravel. It means that the guard won’t be back anytime soon. The only person who can stop me is the man watching behind the camera, but I already know he won’t.
I look around the room slowly. There’s nothing resembling a weapon in here; Logan was very careful about that. Even the bed has rounded edges. But I blew up two buildings with a bazooka. I’m not some helpless prisoner. I won’t let this cage stop me.
I grab the sheets on the bed, twisting them into knots so that they form a long rope.
It takes a few tries but I manage to toss it up so that the top goes around one of the bars on the ceiling of my cage.
I manage to catch the other end by standing on the bed, and tie them securely together.
Then I loop makeshift rope so that it forms a circle.
Still standing on the bed, I slip it over my head, fitting it snugly around my neck. And then I turn to the camera.
I have no idea if there’s any sound, but knowing him, I can only imagine there is. I can only imagine he wants to enjoy every part of my humiliation.
“Congratulations,” I say. “You broke me, just like you said you would. I’m the one who wasn’t listening. Or maybe I didn’t believe you. I don’t know why I wouldn’t; you’ve never given me any reason not to.
“I’ve been hurt my whole life, but no one’s ever hurt me like you.
Yours is a special brand of cruelty. You abandoned me, and made me live in fear, and made me believe you’d kill me when I needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my life.
So fuck you, Logan. Your girl is about to turn into a real ghost this time. Goodbye.”
I take a step off the bed and feel the noose tighten around my neck. My last thought is for everything I’ve lost. Everyone.
My mother. Aurora. Jane.
Not Logan—I don’t think you can lose what you never had.
On that bitter thought, I sink into blissful unconsciousness.