Chapter 24
Indie
nothing's gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after sex
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
Hours?
Days?
There’s no windows, no sound of a clock ticking. No footsteps outside the door, no voices crying for help like I expected them to. There’s no one else in any of the other cells, unless they’ve been conditioned like Jenna had mentioned.
My fingers trace the vertical dents on the stone wall, days spanning into weeks by whoever was captured and held prisoner. Each groove beneath my soft pad sends an involuntary heave in my stomach.
A letter has been carved at the top, and the bottom. It looks like they’ve only managed to scrape the beginning of an initial, before whatever came in here and stopped them.
The tallies count to almost a year. I can’t be here that long; my mind wouldn’t survive it.
I’ve been in and out of sleep, even though I don’t want to. The mass of emotions running through me is wearing me down to the point of exhaustion.
Sleep makes me vulnerable, and each time it gets the better of me, my nightmares jolt my body awake to remind me. Except it’s not a nightmare. It could very well be my reality the next time that door opens.
My body is crammed against the corner of the cell, ensuring that when anyone opens that door, I’m ready for them. I might not have anything to protect me, but I’m sure as hell not giving up without a fight, even if it kills me.
Though the way the unknown is toying my mind with what could lie ahead, maybe I’d be better off.
I’m so lost in my volatile mind, I don’t register the door being unlocked, the light humming inside my cell the only warning as it sears the backs of my lids.
The metal door smacks off the wall, sending an involuntary jolt through my body.
“Hello, stranger.”
Oh God.
Oh dear fucking God, no.
My eyes squeeze shut at the sound of his voice. It’s the only movement my body allows. I can’t breathe, can’t form words, can’t scream at my muscles to work as I stare up at the face who caused all of this.
The sick, twisted smile gleaming down at me causes everything to play in speed behind my eyes. It’s the clearest I’ve ever had the flashback, to the point it feels like I’m reliving it.
My skin itches, like clammy hands are groping their way all over it, my throat tightening as the vomit rushes its way up.
Saint’s voice whispers in my mind. I try to grab at it, hold on to it before the horror drags me away and debilitates me with fear.
But it’s too late.
Conrad’s hands are already on me, dragging me to my feet and throwing me against the wall. My reactions are too slow and sluggish from the paralysis of fear that has its claws sunk into me.
His body is already crushing mine into the damp concrete wall, and my eyes burn with unshed tears as he presses into me from behind.
I want you here with me. Listen to my voice. I’ve got you. You’re not in the Archives.
The first tear rolls down my cheek.
“Causing me some problems since we last met, haven’t you, Indie darling.”
My voice thins to a broken whisper. “Don’t call me that.”
I slump as he moves away, but then I’m whipped round and the weight is replaced against my font.
His fingers dig painfully into my face as he forces me to look into his sick, darkening eyes.
“Have you been trying to hide from me, Indie? A little birdy told me you’re the one I should have been hunting for all this time.
You’ve no idea how happy it makes me that my prize was already down here waiting for me. Even better that it’s you.”
I spit on his face, baring my teeth as my body struggles in his hold, the fight mode finally kicking in. Though my strength is no use, the anxiety is still firmly holding me back; my struggle only makes his eyes grow wilder, and as much as my mind tells me to stop giving him what he wants, I can’t.
I need to fight, the same way I would have all those years ago if he hadn’t drugged me.
You will never experience that again, do you hear me?
The exhaustion, the dehydration, and the concussion I’m battling weakens me to the point I may as well have been drugged.
“You cost me a lot of money, Indie. Billions of dollars in fact.” His hand fists against my hoodie, slamming me down on the hard concrete floor as I smack right onto my back.
The wind is knocked from my lungs, and I choke and splutter when he straddles me, pinning my arms to my side. “Unfortunately for you, money or death isn’t the repayment I want. You’re going to get a taste of what your life was supposed to be like.”
I feel his hand slide down my chest, grabbing my belt and trying to undo it. The scream that rips from my throat tears it apart.
I’d give my life if it meant you’d never come to harm again.
“Conrad. Stop.”
His hand freezes, and the room drops deathly silent. The tension rises to the point it feels like ice has seeped through the walls. “Mind your place, Louisa.”
My sister stutters, “Th-This isn’t—”
Conrad leaps off me towards Louisa, standing toe to toe with her as he stares down at her in her menacing form. “Remember who you’re talking to. I’ve had to punish you twice now, or do you like it when you have to bury family members?”
I freeze, gaze darting from her to him. “What does he mean by that?”
Louisa doesn’t answer me. Instead, she warily takes a step back from him.
“What the fuck does he mean, Louisa?!” My voice breaks as I raise it.
He can’t mean what I think he does.
He fucking can’t.
Conrad looks at me over his shoulder, his hazel eyes glowing with a tinge of scarlet, but both of them ignore me as his words are directed to her. “All those chances.” His lips curl up. “I was always going to get my way.”
“Louisa!” I scream, scrambling to get to my feet.
Conrad raises his voice over mine. “Get her out of my sight.”
Two men reach the doorway, grabbing my sister by the arms and dragging her out of the cells.
She doesn’t resist, and before her face disappears down the hallway, I catch her mouthing words. But she’s already gone before I can figure it out.
An oomph pushes past my lips, body folding in half as Conrad’s fist lands with a sickening thud to my stomach that leaves me breathless. My hand slaps against the wall as I catch myself. “Fuck y-you,” I gasp. “F-Fucking predator.”
His laugh is so dark, so loud, it feels like the entire cell is shaking. “Now, where were we?”
I rush towards him, and he catches me by the elbow, tossing me through the open door of my cell as my body crashes off the solid ground outside it.
I roll onto my back, the metallic taste filling my mouth and souring my tongue.
His footsteps are deafening. The only sound in this basement corridor is my rattled breathing and the sound of his shoes as they meet concrete.
Crouching down to his haunches, he hikes the leg of his suit trousers up. If I had a knife, I’d take out his fucking ankles right at this moment. All I have is the stupid pocket watch.
They don’t cause your fear, Indie. I do.
My eye lids squeeze painfully shut.
“Don’t cry yet, Indie. We’re only just getting started. You’ve got a lifetime of this to go.”
Yanked to my feet again, he holds me there until my vision clears. His thumb traces under my eyes, and I slap it away, voice rattling through the hallway. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
My boot connects with his shin, and it causes him to falter. I grab at the opportunity, throwing a punch that lands across his cheek and sends him on his ass.
I’m pinned to the wall in the basement corridor in a blink of an eye.
The same two guards who took Louisa rush at my side.
Another I hadn’t noticed helps Conrad to his feet, and he shoves them off, shrugging his suit as dust puffs into the air, wiping the blood off his lip.
“Keep up the fight. You’re going to need it. ”
My brows bunch. I try to shrug off the hands that are digging painfully into my arms as Conrad makes his way over to me. “We’re going to play a little game.”
“Do you die at the end of it?” I grit through my teeth.
Those wild eyes are back again, and he steps into me, my heart crashing against my ribs. Sweat beads my forehead; it coats every inch of my cold skin as my bones rattle.
“There’s only one rule, and one outcome,” he mocks, stepping back from me at the same time the guards release me. He puts his hands behind his back, turning to walk away from me.
His mutts follow him, hands ghosted over their guns as they walk towards a metal door on the far end of the corridor, never taking their eyes off me.
The moment one of them opens the door and reveals a set of stairs, Conrad pauses at the threshold, turning to face me.
“Run, Indie. That’s all you have to do.”
My eyes narrow on him. What the fuck does he mean? Run where?
My head swivels as I look down the length of the corridors beside me. When my gaze lands back on him, all I’m left with is his sickening grin. “Keep an eye on the clock. You’ll get thirty minutes.”
The door slams closed, the lock rattling, and I’m left alone as their heavy footsteps eventually turn to silence.
My feet are cemented to the ground. Where the fuck can I go? Is there another way out of here?
I finally manage to jolt into action, tugging out the pocket watch to see it reads 3.25am.
I have until 3.55.
My head snaps from side to side as rows of cell doors lie closed. I throw the one closest to me open, revealing nothing but an identical room like my own.
I crash into the next one, eyes scanning all four corners. It’s the same as mine. Grey walls, no windows, no lights.
This is a trap.
He’s setting me up for failure.
He wants me frantically running through this place to use up my energy.
Jogging through the corridors, I count sixteen doors I open that give me the same results.
Grey walls, no windows, no fucking lights.
Grabbing the watch, I learn I’ve already burned over ten minutes. Each time I feel like I’ve discovered a new pathway, I’m met with the same conclusion.
There is no way out.
This place was built for mental torture.
I end up back at my cell. The reason I know it’s mine is because it’s the only one with the light on inside.
I turn behind me to stare down at the door Conrad left, running towards it as I slam into it, yanking on the handle to confirm it’s still locked.
“God dammit!” I roar, my hands fisting through my blood-knotted hair.
My heart flutters so wildly in my chest, it feels like the rhythm might give out at any second.
Focus.
I need to focus.
That door isn’t the only way out of here, I know it.
Taking another lap of the pathway I ran through, I scan every cell until I end up in the wider open space, all the doors I’ve checked open. My back hits against the slabbed wall, sliding to the ground with trembling limbs. Heart screaming at me not to give up, mind already knowing the end game.
Conrad is going to win, he’s going to bring all my worst nightmares to life, and this time no one’s going to be able to stop him. Not even me.
All those years I fought, all the times I imagined the moment he and I met again, it was nothing like that.
A vengeful fantasy that I’ll never get.
I thump my head back against the wall. My mouth is so dry, I can’t even swallow.
He’s going to make me regret everything I’ve done.
Digging the heels of my palms into my eyes, I furiously wipe the tears away from them, my gaze travelling along the ceiling before it lands on two pipes running from it to the floor.
Glancing around the entire space, I don’t see any more pipes, nor do they run across the ceiling above me. It’s the only wall I can see that has them, and I didn’t notice this in any of the corridors.
I bolt to my feet, my hands palming frantically between the small gap of the iron bars, feeling a faint indent on my fingertip. Looking at it, you’d never see it, so well blended with its surroundings.
No one would think their only chance out of here would be staring you so blatantly in the fucking face.
My blood-stained hands grip the pipe, tugging it towards me, putting everything I’ve got into it, but it doesn’t move.
“Fuck!” I whimper, running my sweaty palms down my thighs before trying it again. Instead of pulling towards me, I try to push. The wall retracts an inch until I’m met with the same resistance, but the surface shudders slightly.
It is a fucking door.
I’m not losing my mind.
Every muscle screams and burns, my teeth clenching together as I move to the side, hauling the long pipe sideways. A waft of freezing cold air bites my skin and sends my hair gusting over my shoulder as it blasts through the gap.
Stone and steel grates against the concrete as it opens up for me. I don’t even open it all the way; as soon as it widens enough, I ram my body through, tugging and then pushing it closed until the hidden door slides right back into place.
Fuck.
I can taste it.
The air is so much lighter out here. Wind whistles wildly down an eternal blackness in front of me. Dimmed spotlights scatter above the tunnel, shrinking in size the further down it goes until it feels like my escape is screaming at me.
Yet I’m met with another obstacle.
A mesh security fence angles around me like a dog cage, the door to freedom sealed as I yank manically on its padlock.
The rattling of the chains echoes into the nothingness, mocking me. “No. No. No,” I quiver. This can’t be it. I can’t have made it this far to be stopped by a fucking padlock.
My head tilts upwards, the lights straining my eyes. It’s about twenty feet, but it has no cover over the top.
My hands scramble as I climb my way up, palms slick with sweat and losing my footing each time I dig it into a bar that runs along the centre of the mesh structure.
I need to slow down and concentrate.
When I eventually manage to get to the top and throw my leg over, a gust of wind almost sends me toppling over.
The jagged ends of the barbed wire sticking out the sides of the bar along the top slice into my hands, red liquid sliding down the pristine metal as I leave evidence that I was ever here.
If I die, at least they’ll know who did it.
That is, if they ever find me.
I only manage to get down a few feet before my boot slips, fingernails dragging down the mesh, and I land on my ankle, yelping as it twists, meeting the ground.
The adrenaline is too high in my system; the pain doesn’t fully register as the realisation slams into me. Saint’s voice is as loud as it’s ever been, as if he’s standing right beside me.
The only time you run from me is when I’m chasing you.
My heavy breaths turn to clouds as I puff, staring down the tunnel, and determination bolts me forward. “I’m running to you, Saint.”