Chapter Thirty-Three
Romy
I t’s dark, but I feel his gaze boring into me. He’s gentle this time, slowly thrusting into my body. The tenderness he shows me does wonders to make me forget about how sore I am between my legs.
Is this how it’ll always be for us?
So intense?
I run my fingers through his hair, tugging him to my mouth. His lips ghost over mine and he murmurs praise that makes my heart sing. You’re so perfect, love. He thinks I’m perfect? I’ve been imperfect my entire life. Broken, mentally screwed up, an anxious mess.
But as he owns my body with his, I believe in his words.
His thrusting grows more ragged as he starts to lose control. Usually, he fingers my clit to bring me extra pleasure, but he’s lost to the sensation. It’s a turn-on. So much so, I don’t need the external stimulation. His feral need for me is an orgasm for my soul.
He lets out a string of curse words and then his cock is swelling like it does when he releases. Sometimes, he half-ass pulls out and spends onto my stomach. This time, he keeps fucking me, knowing he’s filling me with cum.
It’s reckless because I’m not on the pill or any sort of birth control.
Neither of us mentions it. I think, secretly, we both want the consequences to catch up with us because then this fake relationship will become real. We’ll be irrevocably connected until the day we die.
Does it make me stupid to pray for pregnancy?
Yes.
This life I’m entangled in is twisted. There are real villains who are screwing with people’s minds all around us. And I want to play with fire? Is there not enough danger already for me?
Stupid, reckless girl.
His body relaxes and he lets his weight crush me. I can barely breathe, but it’s worth it. Feeling his twitching cock inside of me as cum tries to escape from around it is satisfying.
I feel safe with him.
At one time, he terrified me. Now I’m terrified of not having him.
I wake with a moan.
Everything hurts.
Am I still in bed with Caius? Why does my head hurt so badly?
It’s not just my head.
Every muscle in my body screams in pain. I can’t move. When I try to, I’m met with more soreness and inability to move.
I blink my eyes in the pure, inky darkness, unable to make out shapes or figures. It reminds me of my time beneath the floor. Right before I’d first met Caius. What if I’m back there in that claustrophobic wooden coffin?
The attempt to clear my thoughts is futile. Without being able to see or move, I’m unable to ground myself. I don’t know what’s happening.
For some reason, my mind goes to Vivienne’s journal. Theo read it to me and I hated every second of it.
It all connects.
I know it.
I feel it in my bones.
If only I could grasp onto the truth and make sense of all the thoughts ping-ponging in my brain.
In the dark, everything is far more confusing. I need light. If only I could see, then maybe I could get back to the present reality.
Puzzle pieces are just out of reach.
I want to grasp them all in my hand so I can finish this damn puzzle.
Footsteps approach and I fixate on the sound, craning my head toward the sound. Then I hear a knob twist. Light streaks in from what appears to be a doorway. My eyes, having grown used to the dark, slam shut from the sudden assault.
“How’s my patient doing?” a man says, voice soft and soothing like what a doctor who cares might sound like. “I’ll turn on a lamp so the light doesn’t hurt your eyes. Sometimes it can be harsh after you first wake up from it.”
He doesn’t tell me what “it” is. Instead, he clicks on a lamp. It takes a minute for me to be able to crack open my eyes to inspect my surroundings.
I’m in some sort of exam room on a bed, ankles and wrists strapped down. I pull against them, testing their strength, and wince in pain.
“What he gave you will make you feel like you have a terrible hangover,” the man says, chuckling. “It’s not my first choice, but it’s Doc Junior’s favorite. How are you feeling?”
The man, wearing a white lab coat and carrying an iPad, turns to face me. I immediately recognize his freckly face and auburn hair and beard. His smile is gentle and polite, despite keeping me trapped like a rodent to be probed and studied.
“Dr. Portman?” I croak out, voice dry and brittle. “Let me go.”
If he’s put off by the betrayal in my voice, he doesn’t let on. He looks down at his tablet and taps the screen a few times. Then he takes a picture of me with it. I hiss at him like a rabid raccoon who’s been forced into the sunlight.
“Call me Seth. We’re friends now,” he says as he sets the iPad down. “I’m going to examine you now, Romy. Try to relax.”
Is he insane?
He has me cuffed to a freaking bed.
We are not friends.
His smooth fingertips stroke down my neck until he touches the hem of the crinkly hospital gown I’m wearing. “Interesting. You have a lot of bruising here. Can I ask what happened?”
Caius happened.
They’re called hickeys.
“Fuck you,” I say instead, spitting at him.
My mouth is too dry, though, and he gets nothing but the sound of my spitting. Unfortunate. Now that I’m staring at this man from a lab rat’s point of view, I’m disgusted I was charmed by him and Doc Junior. I should have sensed the evil.
“What kind of medications are you on?” Seth asks , eyes flicking from my bruised neck to my face.
“I’m not on any,” I tell him, though I don’t want to. “Except whatever you people keep forcing on me.”
“Touché.” He chuckles. “What about birth control? Do you have the shot? Take the pill?”
I don’t want to tell him because I don’t know what the answer is supposed to be. He must sense my fear because he gently touches my shoulder.
“Romy,” he murmurs. “I need to make sure none of our studies interact with them. Be honest with me.”
With tears forming, I mutter, “No. I’m not on anything.”
“My intake form is pretty intense,” he admits, “so excuse me if it feels invasive. I can assure you, after we have the information on file, it won’t be so intrusive going forward.”
I whimper when he touches the back of my head, the pain making stars dance around me.
“I was told about this injury. Brick wall, eh? It may take some time, but I think you’ll be okay. If you feel like the pain worsens or if you experience any strange things like dizziness or nausea, let me know. We can always do a scan to make sure there’s no swelling.”
“I want to leave,” I rasp out. “Let me go.”
He continues his assessment as though I never spoke a word. I writhe against my restraints, to no avail.
“Any history of cancer?” Seth asks. “I’m sorry, but I need to check a few places for lumps.”
His cold, latex-gloved fingers touch my neck, feeling for anything usual. Once he’s satisfied, he moves his hands down.
“I can do this over the gown for this part, but not for the next part. I’m sorry.”
I tense as his hands begin pressing over every inch of my breasts over my gown. Hot tears streak down my cheeks. I’m equal parts humiliated and violated, about to explode with fury. He moves down to my lower abdomen, pressing on my stomach, below my ribs, and then below my belly button.
“Good news, nothing strange thus far,” he says with a smile. “Sit tight. The next part won’t take long, but it may be uncomfortable.”
He disappears and I hear a cap popping. Something can be heard squirting out. I shudder in realization as to what happens next.
“Okay,” he says, holding the slimy-looking fingers of his right hand up while he drags my gown up over my hips. “Close your eyes if you must. Clenching will only make it hurt. Relax.”
I yelp when cold, slick fingers, most likely two of them, press into my vagina. I’m still sore from my antics with Caius, so the intrusion hurts. I cry out in pain. He frowns as he presses on my lower belly with his other hand.
“There’s a lot of swelling,” he says, frowning at me. “Did something happen?”
“Fuck you,” I say again, choking on a sob.
His lips press into a firm line. After he’s had his fill of checking me, he pulls his fingers out. Then his finger presses against my asshole.
“No!”
My scream makes my ears hurt, but nothing compares to the burn of his finger stabbing deep inside a hole that was meant for exit only.
“I said relax,” he mutters. “It hurts less that way. Trust me, I’m not getting off on this. I’m a doctor, Romy.”
A sick, twisted abusive one.
I try to relax, but it’s impossible when someone is fingering every inch of your anus for grins and giggles. Finally, he pulls his finger out. I shudder as he removes his soiled glove. He pulls my gown back down to cover me.
“You’re here so we can make you better,” Seth explains. “Let us take care of you.”
I have nothing to say to him. All I can do is tremble in a mixture of fear and fury.
“I’m going to get that stuff cleaned up and then I’m going to take your vitals. After that, I’ll do some bloodwork.”
To my horror, he returns to view wearing new gloves and carrying a wet cloth. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch him clean the lubricant off my vagina and asshole. It’s all very clinical, which makes it marginally more tolerable than if he were getting off on it.
Once I’m covered back up, he checks all my vitals, seemingly unconcerned with whatever he finds. I’m unable to do anything but curse him and seethe with rage.
“Stay still for this next part. Your veins are practically nonexistent. You really should drink more water.”
I want to punch him in his stupid face.
Despite wanting to ruin this for him, I also don’t want to mess him up in a way that has me bleeding to death. I watch, anxiously, as he collects several vials of blood.
“I’ll be right back with a snack and drink.”
He disappears out of the room and returns with an orange juice and applesauce. My throat is dry. I eagerly suck down the small juice box when offered to me. Then he feeds me applesauce like I’m a toddler. With the last bite, instead of swallowing, I spit it at his face.
“What the—” he says, raising his arm to wipe his face.
His elbow is close, so I lean forward and bite the flesh over his lab coat, hoping I draw a little blood of my own.
He cries out in surprise and jerks away from me so hard, I’m surprised he doesn’t take a few of my teeth with him. With an irritated scowl pointed my way, he rubs at the place I bit him.
No blood.
Pity.
He takes a few long draws of breath as if to calm himself. Then he sets to cleaning up the mess. He leaves the room again, and I hope it’s forever.
No such luck.
A minute later, he returns with a bag of saline solution. He pulls up a metal wand with a hook at the top where he hangs the bag of solution.
“You’re going to need your fluids,” he explains. “The therapies here can be rigorous and taxing on the body.”
“No, no, no,” I say to him. “Please don’t do whatever you sick people are going to do.”
My mind races with possibilities.
With cold, clinical efficiency, he pierces my vein with the needle and hooks me up to the fluids. They feel like ice cream pouring into me through my vein.
He leaves again.
When he returns with an uncapped syringe, I shake my head. He ignores me and adds it to the line. Almost instantly, it chases away the chill with prickly warmth.
My eyelids quickly grow heavy and my teeth start chattering uncontrollably. I want out of here. I want to be with Caius, safe from this monster.
Seth returns again, this time with a blanket. It’s incredibly warm as he spreads it out over my prone form. The heat soothes my aching soul.
I fall asleep with Caius’s warm body on my mind.