Chapter 3
Liz opens her eyes to find herself in a small bed, the smell of bleach heavy in the air.
A thin white curtain surrounds her to create a makeshift room.
She tries to lift her head, but the throbbing forces her to stay down.
She attempts to get her arm under her so she can sit up, but something stops her from moving.
She panics, that familiar feeling setting in.
She knows this feeling, she’s had that weight on her for the last few weeks.
They’ve chained her to another bed. Forcing her eyes open, she sees her wrists handcuffed to the rails of a gurney, sending her spiraling.
Her breathing quickens and her ears ring.
She’s trapped, not caring about the consequences, she starts to pull.
What could these new captors do that the old ones didn't? Every day for twenty seven days strange men and women would come into where she was being held and beat her senseless.
Fists, feet, random objects they brought with them, it didn't matter as long as it ended with her screaming, begging them to stop. Then, and only then was she allowed food. The more she fought back the worse the beatings would become. Eventually they didn’t stop until she was knocked out cold, that's when she started to lose track of the days.
They didn't break her then, and she sure as hell won't let these new captors break her now.
A sharp hiss leaves her lips as the fresh set of shackles dig into her already cut-up wrists. The noise alerts two guards stationed outside of the curtain. Within seconds, they are on the other side, yelling for a doctor.
A man wearing a white coat steps in behind the guards.
Liz takes a few deep breaths, her eyes frantically scanning the who she assumes is the doctor.
He’s a short man, no more than 5’4, heavy set, with short graying hair.
If she has a chance at fighting anyone off, it would be him.
Her eyes flick back to the two men staring at her, suddenly missing her cell and the comfort of knowing what is going to happen.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” the man says, flashing her a curt smile before turning to one of the guards and whispering something inaudible.
“My name is Dr. Bennett. Do you know where you are?” he asks.
She shakes her head. Her mouth is too dry to even think about forming words.
The bright lights of what she can only assume is some type of medical room, causes the pounding behind her eyes to grow more intense.
She fights to keep them open, to take in every detail of where she is.
If she's lucky she can find a way out. Liz pulls on the cuffs again, trying to get enough leverage to sit herself up.
“If you keep trying that, I’ll be forced to sedate you again,” he says, writing something on his clipboard.
Again. That one little word sends a chill down her spine.
Liz thought she had just been knocked out from that man in the mask, not drugged.
What had they done to her while she slept?
If she lets herself run through every possible thing they could have done she will never stop.
Liz was only a child when she learned that in order to survive you need to ignore your feelings.
Pain, fear, anger, it doesn't matter, shove those feelings so deep inside your mind you become numb to them. She sighs and puts her head down, clearly not a battle she is going to win. Looking around the small room, there are no decorations, no signs of other people, just the incessant beeping of the machines they’ve hooked her up to.
She glances down, seeing tubes coming out of both arms, deep purple bruises forming where they entered.
Somewhere in the room, outside of the too white sheets, she can hear the faint ticking of a clock.
She lifts her head back up and scans the room, craning her neck trying to find the source of the ticking.
“Time?” she manages to get out, her voice deep and scratchy.
The doctor looks down at his watch, before continuing to mark down whatever he was reading on the machines.
Her anger re-ignites as if she will somehow manage to escape by knowing the time.
She has no way of knowing how long ago they took her.
If she knows the time, she will at least be able to have some idea of how long they keep her locked up.
“Please?” she chokes out. She looks over at him, his brows pinched together, something akin to annoyance on his face.
He lets out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes like a simple question is an inconvenience, before finally answering, “2:36 a.m.”
Liz lets her eyes close and lays her head back down, not having enough strength to thank him.
She thinks to herself, I didn’t get dinner before everything happened.
The pounding in her head intensifies as she tries to work out how long it has been.
Liz figures it has only been about ten hours, too tired to think more on it.
Exhausted and in pain from her struggle with the masked man, she doesn’t try to stop the sleep that consumes her.
She's awoken some time later to the two guards grabbing her ankles. She’s up in an instant, attempting to pull her legs away. The smaller of the men turns, yelling for the doctor before returning to pin her legs down.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Liz screams, throat burning and raw.
She tries to swing at the man, only to have the metal around her wrist stop her.
She feels her skin rip back open, fresh blood dripping down her arm, staining the white sheets under her.
The doctor rushes back over to her, syringe in hand.
Her eyes widen at the sight of the needle, panic taking hold and refusing to let go.
She tries to squirm as far away as the restraints will allow before he can inject her with the mystery substance.
Liz knows she can’t afford to be unconscious again, so she pulls her legs up as far as she can, attempting to curl into a ball.
She does anything she can to make it harder for them to grab her.
“What the hell are you doing?” a female voice shrieks.
All three men look up, too caught up in the commotion to hear her entering the room. She steps fully behind the curtain and shoves past the two guards, giving them a look of shame as she does. She looks Liz over, eyes full of pity.
“Does someone care to explain just what the fuck you are doing?” she asks, turning to where Dr. Bennett stands. He opens his mouth to mutter an explanation, but Liz quickly shouts over him.
“They grabb—” she says before one of the guards steps toward her bed, causing her to flinch away.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed. The woman whirls on him, ready to unleash her full wrath. He takes a step back and apologizes before removing himself from the space. The woman turns back to the bed and gives Liz a slight nod. She takes it as an invitation to continue explaining what happened.
“They were… touching… me,” she says, each word making her throat burn.
“I was told to have her restrained and brought to the interrogation room once she wakes up,” Dr. Bennett cuts in. “I was just following orders,” he adds.
The woman looks him over and orders him to step outside the curtain, following close behind.
“What the hell kind of doctor follows orders to restrain and sedate a scared woman who just got rescued from a fucking terrorist organization?” she hisses at him, unaware Liz can still hear.
“We don’t know what this poor woman has been through, and you just sent two large men into her room to put shackles on her?
Did you consider what could be going through her mind before rushing in ready to sedate?
Do you even care about the trauma that poor thing is experiencing right now” She doesn’t give him time to answer before starting again.
“What do you think he’s going to do to you when he finds out what just happened? That man is going to kill you.” Dr. Bennett stutters, not able to form a coherent response.
“That’s what I thought,” she says smugly.
Her heels click on the floor as she walks back in.
Pulling a chair over to the bed and sitting down, looks through the chart the doctor had been filling out.
She shakes her head, clearly disappointed with what he has marked down.
She takes a few minutes to look over everything before setting the chart down and double checking all the machines.
After what feels like an eternity, she turns and looks at Liz.
“I’m sorry for their behavior. They have orders to have you shackled and brought to a new room as soon as you awoke, but they also have been told to leave you until someone could come be with you.”
Liz can’t help but stare at the woman darting from beeping machine to beeping machine, a quiet confidence in each movement.
Dressed in a pair of slacks, classic white blouse and her rich brown hair pulled expertly into a french twist, she looks like she belongs in an office rather than a pop up hospital room.
“Unfortunately, you stabbed a commander, and from what your file says, continued to try and fight him? I’m impressed, but due to your prior attack, there is no way we can let you be unrestrained,” she says with genuine kindness behind her deep brown eyes, before walking over to grab the shackles the men tried to put on her legs.
She sets them on the rolling over-bed table perched at the end of the bed.
The clanking metal causes Liz to break out in a cold sweat.
“I know you are in shock right now, but you are safe. May I?” she asks, motioning to the end of the bed. “If it’s going to be too much for you, I can try to find guards more comfortable escorting you.”
Reluctantly, Liz shakes her head no. There is nothing in this world that would make her agree to putting chains on her ankles. The woman just nods in silent understanding.
“You will still need handcuffs. I am going to remove this side from the bed. When I do, I need you to slowly move your hand to the other side so I can put it on your other hand. Then I will take the other one off,” she explains, watching to make sure she isn’t becoming overwhelmed.
Liz dips her head in agreement. She holds her hand as still as possible, trying to avoid any movements they may find threatening.
After being chained to the ground, beaten and starved for god knows how long, they are still worried she will somehow overpower them.
Anger stirs in her chest. How can anyone look at her and worry for their own safety rather than hers, she wonders to herself.
This woman claims she is safe, yet still insists on restraints, all because she fought back when cornered.
That sentiment alone makes her want to scream, to act like the monster they are treating her as, but that will only prove them right.
The woman removes the cuff and allows Liz to move at her own pace, placing her hand next to her other one.
Just like the first, Liz stays as still as possible while she gets the cuff put back on.
The woman moves on to the tubes protruding from her arms, apologizing when Liz hisses from the sting of the IV being pulled out.
“Can you stand? The morphine should be kicking in anytime now, it will help with the pain.” She reaches behind Liz, trying to help sit her up.
Liz winces when the woman’s hand touches her back, bits and pieces starting to come back from the events leading to this. She closes her eyes and tries to remember everything that happened.
She remembers stabbing a man in a mask then being thrown into a wall.
She wouldn’t be surprised if her entire back is one giant bruise from the impact, along with some broken ribs.
After a moment, and a lot of pain, she manages to sit up fully.
The woman helps guide her legs off the side of the bed.
The second she stands, they buckle from the weight.
Whole body screaming in pain, she wishes the masked man had just killed her.
“I’m going to call the guards back in. They won’t hurt you, they are just going to escort you to the new room and get you settled,” she says, sadness flashing across her face.
The woman knows something she isn’t saying. Maybe she can’t, or maybe she’s just as evil as the rest of them. Liz starts to suspect this is a routine with all the new females they take—bringing in the mean men just to have a kind woman come in and make things seem safe.
There is no point in fighting back, she is too weak, too frail after her time as a prisoner. Perhaps it's for the best, after all, Liz has spent her entire life fighting and it's only carried her from one shit show to the next. She nods her head and waits for the men to take her to her new prison.