Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kylie
Twenty-one days.
That was about how long it took for time to become irrelevant. The tally marks on the wall continued to increase, but only because I feared that if I didn’t make them, there was a good chance tomorrow wouldn’t come.
Back before, I’d never noticed certain things.
Like where the morning sunlight lands on the floor and where that sliver of light is just before night comes.
No matter how hard I tried to recall the individual rooms in my house, I could never see the sunlight land anywhere.
Here in this shit hole, I knew exactly where.
I now knew how many sips of water were left in a nearly empty bottle.
I was aware that smells, though distinct at some point, came together to create something fetid. Like stale sweat and infected skin, mildew and rust. Individually, they weren’t pleasant, but they were tolerable. As one, they were disturbing.
The good news was, my nose no longer registered what was in the room with me.
The same couldn’t be said for my sense of touch.
I tried to sleep, but it was nearly impossible.
I would drift, believing I would finally get a reprieve, but then I would feel something crawling on me.
Was it a bug? Or my imagination? When I wasn’t thinking about what might be chowing on my flesh, the chain would shift and clank, the shackle scraping against the infection festering on my ankle.
There were splinters embedded in my elbows from when I tried to push myself up. Which wasn’t often anymore because I got dizzy when I attempted to sit up.
My muscles cramped when I tried to lie down.
Pain became almost tolerable when an infection worsened. At least that was the case with my foot.
My lips were cracked.
My head throbbed all the time.
My bruises weren’t healing.
My hands trembled even when I wasn’t moving.
The sound of a car door slamming drew my attention. I hadn’t even heard it pull up. Probably thanks to how loud my heartbeat had become in recent days.
I managed to peel myself off the floor and prop my back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of me.
It took every ounce of strength I possessed, but it was necessary.
Attempting to appear stalwart and strong was futile at best, but I refused to let him know he’d won. Not yet. Not today, anyway.
From here I could see the door and all the windows; plus it was the one spot in the room that rarely saw any sunlight. Not that it was cooler by any stretch of the imagination, but it was shielded from those little slivers of light, so surely it made a difference.
Or I pretended that was the case, anyway.
When the doorknob turned, I managed to lift my head. Evidently, it was somewhat worth the effort.
Martin appeared in the doorway. His eyes skimmed the space. I wanted to ask him if he was expecting me to have company, but I didn’t bother. I didn’t care what he expected.
“I brought you a gift,” he said.
He was hiding something behind his back. Or appearing to. I didn’t put much stock in it because, with my luck, this was a stupid hallucination and I would be disappointed when he floated away on the breeze.
Martin’s hand appeared. He was holding a bottle of green Gatorade. Or was it yellow? I couldn’t really tell.
“It’s cold,” he said, placing the bottle on the floor at his feet.
I cocked an eyebrow. Did he expect me to crawl over there? Well, he could go fuck himself.
He put his shiny shoe on the bottle and rolled it forward and back under his sole. I watched, my mouth watering.
“This is me extending an olive branch, Kylie.”
Yeah, well, go fuck yourself with the olive branch. And I hope it hurts.
While I didn’t let the words escape, I couldn’t contain the smile.
“You like that idea, huh? Me giving you something?”
Oh, that’s not it. I like the idea of you bursting into flames or melting into sludge.
“This is how it’s going to work. I’m going to let you have this bottle of ice-cold Gatorade. You’re going to enjoy it in peace. Then tomorrow, I’m going to come back here, and you’re going to do me a favor. Does that work for you?”
Was it me, or did he just say going to a ridiculous number of times?
“Does it, Kylie?”
I considered ignoring him, but the promise of that drink was too much. Gatorade had electrolytes, and at the moment, I figured all of mine were depleted. It wouldn’t save me, but maybe it would keep me alive long enough for someone else to.
And yes, even I knew that was a ridiculous dream. No one even knew I was alive.
But hope was a vicious bitch at times.
“Kylie. Answer me,” Martin insisted.
Rather than speak, I nodded. He didn’t need to know that I was agreeing to enjoy the drink, but not to doing him any favors. He would figure that out tomorrow.
“Good girl. And tomorrow, why don’t I bring you some antibiotic cream for that scratch on your leg?”
Antibiotic cream? Was he serious? That shit wasn’t going to help. What he called a scratch was actually a gaping wound, but did it really matter?
“Can I trust you, Kylie?”
I nodded. I lied. So what?
Martin shoved the bottle forward, letting it roll toward me. I stared at it, watching as it came within reach. Although I wanted to snatch it up and gulp it down, I forced myself to remain there. It wouldn’t benefit me for him to see how eager I was.
“I’ll be back in the morning, Kylie. We’ll talk more then.”
I met his gaze.
Sure we will, asshole.
He was out of the room less than three seconds before I snatched up that bottle and cradled it like a newborn baby.