Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
JUDE GRAVES
They don’t throw me into the room this time. They walk me in. And when I woke, Adriana wasn’t beside me. That’s how I knew something was wrong. Erik is on my right, and Aiden is on my left. They guide me down into the basement and close the door behind us.
Alexei is already inside, leaning casually against the metal table, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms like he’s preparing for paperwork instead of whatever this is. “Good morning,” he says pleasantly.
My jaw tightens. I don’t answer. But then my gaze darts over and lands on Adriana.
She’s sitting across the room, wrists secured to the arms of a chair, ankles bound, a strip of gauze taped loosely over her mouth that looks more symbolic than necessary.
Her eyes are wide when they meet mine. There’s both relief and dread flashing in her stare.
Something twists in my chest, and Alexei notices quickly.
“Relax,” he says lightly. “This is not punishment. This is merely an evaluation.”
Erik presses a hand to my shoulder and pushes me into position in the center of the room. There are no restraints for me today, and that unsettles me.
“Stand still,” Alexei says. “Hands at your sides.”
I just stare at him for a beat, trying to figure out what he's about to do.
"подчиняться," he repeats. Obey.
Like my body can't help it, I do as he says.
Aiden steps closer behind me. He’s not touching me, but he’s just close enough that I can feel his presence. It’s an obvious reminder that if I don’t cooperate, they will make me.
Slowly, I let my arms fall to my sides and focus on my breath.
Alexei smiles faintly. “Good. Today we test something simple. You will remain exactly where you are. No movement, interference, or reaction.”
Adriana’s breathing picks up, the chair creaking slightly as she shifts. Her eyes lock on mine, searching, pleading already.
Alexei walks toward her, his steps eerily unhurried.
“You see,” he continues conversationally, “pain is temporary. Conditioning is more permanent. Pain teaches the body. Conditioning teaches the mind what it is allowed to do.” He turns back toward me.
“And today we confirm whether you still believe you are allowed to interfere or even give a proper shit.”
Erik moves to stand beside Adriana, and Aiden stays behind me.
Adriana shakes her head rapidly, terrified.
Erik steps forward and opens his hand, the crack of the slap sharp and sudden as it snaps her head to the side.
The chair legs scrape loudly across the concrete when her body jerks against the restraints, a muffled cry breaking through the gauze. My entire body locks.
Move.
I don’t.
Erik doesn’t step away. He crouches slightly in front of her, gripping her jaw between his fingers and forcing her face back toward me, making sure her eyes stay locked on mine.
His thumb presses hard into the hinge of her jaw, not enough to break anything, just enough to hurt and keep her still while she tries to twist away. Then, he licks the side of her face.
I flinch internally, but I don’t even think my body moves.
Another slap. This time, harder. And then another. And another.
Alexei’s still watching me, intently.
Erik removes a cord from his jacket pocket and wraps it around Adriana’s throat. Her eyes are still on me as he yanks back, choking the shit out of her.
I still don’t move. I’m just watching. If I don’t interfere, I won’t get hurt. I’m sick of these motherfuckers hurting me. She just has to survive this like I’ve been doing. I know they’re not going to kill her.
Erik finally releases her, and she’s frantically trying to suck in air through her nose. “Sorry, love,” he says casually.
“Jude—” she chokes out.
I feel my muscles try to fire. But nothing happens. Because I know what comes next if I do. They trained me to know that disobedience equals pain.
Alexei tilts his head, studying me. “Interesting,” he murmurs. “The hesitation is still there. But the obedience is, too.”
Another small signal to Erik, who now wraps his hand around her throat and squeezes. He stands between her legs, staring down at her with a sadistic grin. Adriana cries out again, louder this time, her chair scraping against the floor again as she struggles.
Aiden leans slightly closer behind me, his voice a whisper near my ear. “Stay still,” he says calmly. “You’re doing well.”
Doing well.
Something inside my chest cracks at those words. And at the height of this shit, Alexei reaches slowly into his pocket, pulling out a photograph halfway. It’s just enough that I recognize the edge of it, and my lip curls instantly, a snarl escaping my throat before I can stop it.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl, glaring directly into his shitty soul. "I told you that I'm fucking done with her."
He pauses. Then laughs softly and slides it back into his pocket. His attention returns to Adriana. “Let us try something else.”
Erik steps back. Aiden moves around to stand beside Alexei now, both of them watching me instead of her. Waiting. They’re not watching what happens to her.
They’re watching whether I react to what’s happening to her.
Adriana’s breathing is ragged now, tears tracking down her face as she stares at me, silently begging. Erik rips her shirt with a blade and traces it between her breasts. She’s wearing a bra, thankfully.
My hands still twitch, but I don’t step forward or even speak. I just stand there while something inside me screams loud enough that I’m sure the room should be shaking from it.
After a long moment, Alexei exhales in satisfaction. “Alright,” he says quietly. “You’ve shown perfect control.” He gestures, and Erik finally releases the restraints. Adriana slumps forward slightly, breathing hard, shaking, her eyes still fixed on me in disbelief.
I still don’t move.
Alexei steps closer, stopping just in front of me, his voice soft enough that only I can hear it. “I wonder,” he says. “Did you not move because you simply don’t care about this woman? Or you don’t want the pain?”
Both.
Fuck, no.
He tilts his head. “Speak. Now.”
I clear my throat, and for the first time since this began, I speak. “Both.”
Adriana whimpers at that, looking at me like I’ve broken her heart. But I ignore it, instead, focusing on the piece of shit standing before me. His steely gray eyes study my face so closely that I want to cave his fucking skull in.
“Good,” he praises. “Instead of Erik dosing you today, you can do it yourself.”
Erik hands me the kit, and I snatch it quickly, my veins screaming for a hit.
“You’re done for the day.”
My head tilts slightly. Already? Normally, we’re here for hours. But I don’t complain.
My body feels numb when Erik and Aiden escort us back to the guesthouse. Adriana hasn’t said a word. Her lip is split, blood dried at the corner. Bruises are already blooming on her cheek. The red mark around her throat is worse. When we step inside, it’s too quiet.
“Adri—” I start.
She’s already crying and moving to the bathroom. The door slams. Locks.
I follow, standing in front of the door. “Adriana, I’m sorry.”
The door yanks open. Her eyes are blazing through tears. “You just stood there. You let him hurt me.”
I stare at her, my mind dull. “They weren’t going to kill you. And they shock the hell out of me when I disobey. So yeah. I let it fucking happen.”
Her mouth closes. The anger fades into both hurt and sudden understanding.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, but the words feel empty.
“I hated watching you do nothing,” she whispers.
I don’t answer, so she shuts the door again, and the shower starts. With a sigh, I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at my hands.
Why the fuck can’t I feel anything anymore?
The rest of the day bleeds by with Adri barely speaking to me. She was already cracking. What they did to her just nudged her closer to the same edge I’m dancing on every fucking day. I keep wondering which one of us will fall first. I don’t know what happens if we both do.
She’s stretched out on one end of the couch, watching some girly shit. I catch the name Gossip Girl a few times. Figures. Rich kids ruining each other’s lives. Fitting.
I’m on the other end of the couch, staring at nothing. I fade in and out a lot lately. Minutes disappear. Thoughts don’t stick around. It’s almost as if I sometimes don’t register language. I’ll surface for a second, realize I’m still here, then sink away again. It feels like being half-dead.
I googled derealization and came to the conclusion that I’m having frequent episodes of that almost daily. It scared me at first, but now when I feel them come on, my response is just…distant. It's like a cousin to anxiety, but feeling like your soul is pulling from your body.
The light outside dims slowly, and my stomach growls.
It must be evening time. Adriana lifts her glass of water, eyes glued to the screen.
She doesn’t look at me. I dosed meth about thirty minutes ago.
That might explain my current state. Or maybe this is just what I am now.
I know I've been losing weight, and the drugs are making it worse.
Soon, people could look at me and not even realize I'm the same Jude Graves that played for them on stage.
It's objectively sad that my dream is gone.
Just like Adriana's, I suppose. As well as the countless people who have been sucked dry in this industry who were once so full of life.
I'm no stranger to the reality of various celebrities killing themselves because they were either abused as a child by producers or had to get on their knees for a director to get into some big movie.
Is it all worth it for these people?
I was never for me.
The front door opens, and Aiden walks in carrying dinner on a tray. I don’t even flinch, but Adriana moves fast, though. She jumps up and takes one of the plates from him.
“Ugh, thank you,” she mutters, already pulling apart the pelmeni.