Chapter 8
Liz listens to the men go back and forth about her; she can’t stand them talking like she’s not in the other room.
Unable to take their pity any longer, she scoots herself up onto the bed.
Sitting on the plush mattress doesn’t feel right, like she’s not supposed to feel comfort anymore.
She throws her head back in frustration before sliding herself back onto the hard tiles.
It’s not fair and deep down she knows it.
Her whole life had been one, long disaster.
Sure, there were amazing moments sprinkled in, but for the most part it was Liz vs the world.
Trauma seems to follow her like a lost puppy.
The way Liz sees it, she has two options; let what happened consume her and give into their demands, inevitably ending up locked up once more, or, deal with the horrid things she’s been through with a ‘fuck you’ attitude and find a way out on her own terms. The beauty in trauma is there is no one way to handle it.
Some get lost in it, unable to separate what they experience from the reality of getting away, some turn to drugs and alcohol to forget, some even take care of themselves, seeking professional help to overcome what has happened to them.
Liz on the other hand, has been perfecting her own way since childhood, a chaotic mix of bullying herself into thinking things aren't as bad as she thought, sarcasm, and having a fight or fight instinct, rather than fight or flight.
Liz knows she needs to be stronger than whatever tries to break her, that is the only way she manages anymore.
Being stronger means she gets to win and in the end she always wins.
There has only been one battle where she didn’t come out a victor, even still, she is going to make sure it ends her way, a small victory.
She can get through this, Liz just needs to keep reminding herself she made it out.
They may be holding her hostage again, but what she just endured for god knows how long was worse than anything they can do to her now.
Even being held by a Russian terrorist she didn’t break, she fought back until the very end.
Her eyes drift closed as she replays their words over and over again.
That dickhead of a General won’t let her go until he knows she’s not involved, and she can’t prove she wasn’t while they don’t trust her, they won’t trust her if she won’t talk to them, she won’t talk until she trusts them.
It's obvious now Riley is telling the truth about trying to help her, the question is, is she going to let him?
Mikey had said Riley was also captured at some point, he knows exactly what is going on in my head, is that the reason he's trying so hard? Unable to fight off the sheer exhaustion from the last few days, her thoughts slow, letting her drift into a fitful sleep. She didn’t sleep long before the nightmares started.
She jolts awake, clasping a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
She remembers all too well what happens if she screams. Her wild eyes scan every inch of the room, her delicate body covered in a thin layer of sweat, breathing heavy.
The phantom weight of handcuffs transports her back to Dmitri's encampment.
It takes a few minutes for her to remember where she is, not in her old cell chained to the floor, but in her new one.
Thoughts shift from memories of what happened to her own mental battle of convincing herself it wasn't that bad and the sooner she gets over it the sooner she can get her life back on track. She can’t stay, as long as she is not on her own she will never be able to move on, suddenly the harsh realization of what she needs to do settles in.
“Great, just fucking great,” she groans to herself before standing back up, pacing circles around the small room.
The small apartment wasn't what she was expecting when the general said she would be staying in his quarters.
Picturing a warehouse house type set up, with rows upon rows of neatly made bunk beds, Riley's apartment came as a shock.
It was nice, almost cozy, with a much too familiar smell that put her on edge.
He had very few decorations and it was clear he didn't spend much time living there.
Trying to remember every little detail, she anxiously picks at her cracked nails while she continues her circles.
The rooms are small, with only one window in the whole place.
Although the kitchen more than likely has knives, there is no doubt in her mind that Riley removed them.
The moment she saw the window her composure almost flew out of it.
It had been so long since she was allowed to see the outside world, even if it is just a sliver.
Her cell had a small barred window at the top of one wall.
She was never able to see anything out of it, where they chained her she couldn't even see the sky, but rays of sunshine always told her when a new day in hell started.
The door had beeped after they went in, followed by soft clicks of locks engaging.
He could have been lying about the alarms, but a nagging feeling in her stomach tells her it was the truth.
She is locked in, for now. There is only one thing she can do.
Liz is forced to push everything away and play nice with Riley.
She does not need to trust him, but he needs to trust her, and there is only one way to gain that.
A new found determination fills her and she walks to the door, knowing her only way to freedom is sitting outside the room.