Captive, page 11
part #2 of Populations Crumble: Resurgence Series
Atlas spins on his heel, but I cover the distance between them in a flash, beating him to the punch and grabbing Herb by the collar as my anger wins. “Your cut?! My girlfriend and countless other women’s lives are on the line, and all you care about is money. Losing your cut is going to be the least of your worries since you’re going to be charged as an accomplice to mass abductions, abuse, and murder. Don’t bother trying to run. The police are already here.” I pause, letting him have a moment to hear the growing sounds of sirens approaching. “But hey, maybe if you tell them everything about Chris, they’ll go a little easier on you, you narcissistic jackass!”
The man’s face goes pale as I shove him away. Atlas is already leaving the building, and the police sirens blast outside, filling the store for a moment when he opens the door.
There’s no joy in it for me, though. All I can think about is finding this Chris, and figuring out what he knows about the men who kidnapped Demy. This was the break we needed.
It has to be.
Chapter twenty-three
Threshing
Demy
The evening meal is always at the same time. At what I’m guessing is a week—ten days?—into our captivity, my body has developed a new internal rhythm. So while I have no access to a clock here, my body still knows it’s too early when our cell door scratches open against the concrete. Sherese hides her concern behind a placid façade, and I do my best to mirror it.
But when I sit up from my cot and see that Lee is here, holding a purple dress, with a look in his cold, dead eyes that makes me feel ill, I almost lose it. Almost.
“Lee?” I ask, unable to keep all of the flustered nerves out of my voice.
A smile splits his face—that feral grin that makes me want to run to Grandma’s house to avoid the big, bad wolf.
Or better yet, pick up my favorite bow and shiny, sharp arrows from Peter’s class, and sink one into each of those hands that he’s touched me with.
“I brought you a little something,” he says, his voice low and chilling, even though we’re alone, besides Sherese. Although as soon as she realized it was Lee, she turned to studious avoidance, arranging herself back on her cot with her back to me, facing the wall in silence.
“A dress. It’s a lovely color.” I force out the words, hoping he takes my nerves as excitement, and not sheer, crippling anxiety.
As he draws closer I hurriedly stand, nearly tripping as anxiety tries to lock down my muscles, but a deeper sense of self-preservation forces me to get off the cot. I can’t be a sitting duck when he’s got that predatory stride eating the ground between us. Slowly. Stalking.
“I had a feeling purple would look good on you. Like my own, shiny amethyst. Or a geode. You know about those?”
I draw a blank for a second, but then an elementary science lesson flashes in my memory, images of an ugly rock busted open to show shiny, shimmery gems inside. I nod, once I realize he’s waiting for a response.
He stops inches from me, the stretchy, garish purple dress on outstretched palms, waiting. I reach out with icy fingers and take it, forcing a small smile onto my lips.
“Thank you. It will be nice to have a change of clothes so I can wash them.”
He tsks. “Oh, I don’t mind these. They do show off your curves.” His eyes skate down my frame, leaving a trail of imaginary sludge on my body in their wake.
It might be imaginary, but I’ll sure as heck try to scrub the feel of it off once he’s safely gone and I’m alone.
“But there’s just something so delightful about a dress.” He doesn’t elaborate, but he does reach up and skim his fingers across my collar bones, safely hidden behind my exercise top for now.
I swallow hard and look down at my feet. “I’m sure it’s lovely, thank you.”
I hate myself for the words, but Nell’s terror at being sterilized in some dangerous, unknown surgery is forefront in my mind. I’ve done worse than lie to survive. I’ve stolen, I’ve trespassed. I’ve fought tooth and nail to survive, and now that I’ve got someone to protect there might not be a limit to what I’ll do, even if I hate every second of it.
“You’re welcome. I can’t wait to see you wearing it.” He lets his hands wander up, touching a loose lock of hair, which escaped from my braid while I was lying down. I have to lock down every muscle in my body to stop the shiver of revulsion that desperately wants to roll through me. He’s going to keep expecting—taking—more and more, and the thought makes me want to sob and scream at the same time. I’ve got to think fast, to get things going where I need them to, and away from him pushing this further than I want it to go.
His hands have already traveled down to my neck, dancing around the edges of my ear and sending my heart hammering in fear.
“It seems a shame to waste such a beautiful gift on just going back to the holding area.”
“Oh yeah?” He seems distracted, the words a bare murmur as he stares too hard at my throat.
“Yeah, it’s so ugly in there. The forest you walked us through was pretty. Maybe I could wear this dress for you, and you could take me up there,” I say, trying to sound casual, even hopeful.
His gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing as he meets mine again. And then between heartbeats, his hand that was grazing my flesh wraps around my throat, squeezing—squeezing the air right out of my lungs.
Panic overwhelms me, icy-cold and surging through my veins, as I claw at his grip. But he may as well be a Titan of legend, and me a puny human who can’t make fire. My nails are useless, and I can’t scream—no matter how hard I try, nothing makes it past his grip besides muted, panicked squeaks.
“You’re just trying to use me as a vehicle to escape, you stupid little girl. How dumb do you think I am? Huh?” He shakes me, as if further angered that I don’t answer—but I can’t. My fingers are starting to prickle, pins and needles as my oxygen runs out, and they go numb. I fight harder, kicking him in the shins, trying to knee him in the balls, but he’s holding me too close to get any momentum to hurt him, and my legs are going numb, too.
“You’re smokin’ hot, but clearly aren’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you think I’m just going to cart you to the surface so you can try to run.”
Tears well in my eyes as things start to dim around the edges. I’m going to pass out, and there’s nothing I can do.
I reach up again, towards his face. He might knock me out, but I’ll scratch his eyes out first. The motion is too slow, though, like I’m fighting through water, or sand. I push, but my muscles aren’t responding like they should, and my arm flutters weakly against his cheek before he bats it away and backs me against the wall.
God, what is he going to do to me if I pass out?
Even the sheer terror of that thought can’t stop the encroaching blackness or damn up the hot spill of tears over my cheeks.
The last thing I see are his eyes widening, as if in surprise.
And then the blackness closes over me, and nothing matters anymore.
Chapter twenty-four
Wheat and Chaff
Demy
When I come to, I’m lying in an unfamiliar room, on a hard, padded surface. For a split second, I’m confused. It’s not my apartment that I shared with three roommates back in Missiana. It’s also not my beautiful, luxury dorm room at the NLC. And then everything hits me; the kidnapping, the Cabal, and getting choked by Lee. I’m not on the floor, or my cot. I try to shove myself upward, but a new spike of terror-fueled adrenaline surges when I realize that I’m strapped to the table.
A broken scream escapes my lips, and then a woman’s face appears above mine.
“Shhh, don’t fight—don’t fight. Hey, you were thrashing and I was afraid you’d fall off the exam table. I’ll unstrap you, but you have to be completely calm first.” It’s Annie, the nurse down here. A panicked glance around the room shows we’re in the medical center, and it’s completely empty, save her and me.
As suddenly as it came, all the fight goes out of me, and exhaustion nearly drags me back under. I’m a limp spaghetti noodle, splatted against the wall and helpless to change a thing about my situation.
“I know, honey, I know. You’re pretty banged up, but as far as I can tell you’re going to be okay. Here’s some cool water, it’ll ease that sore throat.”
As soon as she mentions it, the ache in my throat is a throbbing burn. Annie loosens the strap over my chest, and slowly lifts the head of the exam table, so that I can drink the water she hands me. “Take it slow. You’re going to be sore for a while, if the nasty bruises on your neck are any indication.”
I take a small sip with trembling fingers, and it both hurts and soothes at the same time. So, I take another, and another, until the cup is empty.
She takes it, crossing the room to the sink to refill it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Annie asks, setting the cup on a tray that usually holds medical tools, but for now is blessedly clear and in reach.
My fingers latch onto a blanket and pull it all the way to my neck, barely resisting the urge to screw my eyes shut like a child and pretend I’m invisible.
God, I wish I was invisible.
“Did he—” The words hurt like hell, but I need to know, so I push through. “Did he do anything else to me?”
Annie’s eyes go shuttered, and she turns towards the little station of medical supplies between my table and the one over.
“Not that I can tell without your permission, or without causing more harm. Your clothing was intact when he carried you in here.”
My eyes close again, this time in relief as I take stock of the rest of my body slowly. Nothing else hurts, except—weirdly—my fingertips. I’m still wearing my stinking, dirty exercise clothes. I want to weep, but with joy or sadness, I couldn’t tell you.
When Annie faces me again, her professional mask is back in place, all signs of the concern and human compassion she wore when I woke up tidily tucked away.
A whoosh of air signals the door being shoved open, and I flinch back against the exam table when Lee storms into the room.
“You were supposed to alert me as soon as she woke up,” he snaps at the nurse, unholy fury rolling off the man like poisoned gas.
She raises both hands defensively. “She’s been awake for less than five minutes. I’ve offered her water and asked two basic questions to attempt to ascertain her mental competency after her ordeal. Once I finished my exam, I would have come to get you. I can’t leave her unattended if she’s got a problem that needs to be dealt with.”
Lee waves her off and crosses the room to my bedside. I flinch back. It’s automatic, and I can’t stop it.
He doesn’t stop, crowding forward into my personal space, brushing my hair back away from my face as if he’s a concerned lover, and not the man who did this to me.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Demy, I’m here now. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when you woke up; I was on rotation.”
Shock or numbness hold my tongue paralyzed, and I just stare in mute terror while he acts like he didn’t do this. I cast a panicked gaze at Annie, but she’s shuffled off to her desk, against the far wall, and is pointedly ignoring this exchange.
Doesn’t she know? How can she just leave me like this if she knows he’s the one who hurt me?
“Look at me, I want to see you,” he demands, grabbing hold of my chin and pulling my face toward his, instead of Annie’s back. His eyes are a little less cold and dead than usual, and I’m not sure if that’s more or less alarming. “There are those beautiful brown eyes,” he murmurs, running his thumb over my chin, as if I’m a scared animal, and not a woman he just brutalized.
Fury starts to build, pushing the numbness back, bringing life back to my limbs. I reach up and shove his hand off of me.
His lips press into a flat, angry line, but he lets me dislodge him.
“You did this to me—you don’t get to touch me.” I sound hoarse, but there’s fire behind the words nonetheless, and I’m proud of it. Is it wise?
No.
Do I care?
Hell no.
“Demy, be reasonable—”
“I am being reasonable! I made a real request to spend time with you, and instead of seeing that for what it was, you took it badly and choked me half to death! I never want to see you again, and you can take your purple dress and stuff it.” I push weakly against his chest, but he doesn’t even sway against the pitiful effort. “I would rather keep wearing these dirty, stinking clothes until they are rags than ever accept another gift from you.”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. I might sound like a pack-a-day-smoker after a chest cold, but I am dead serious. I will find us another way out of here.
Crap.
Nell.
The rest of it comes rushing back in a stomach-dropping flood, and I close my eyes against the tears that threaten to drown me.
No, no, no. She doesn’t have time for me to start over. She is getting shots every day, which means there’s a surgery to sterilize her looming over her shoulder, and I can’t let that happen. She’s strong, but the loss of a dream like that? I can’t be responsible for that happening to her, if there’s anything I can do about it, no matter how distasteful it is.
No matter how bad it hurts.
“Hey, now, look—I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I overreacted. The truth is, I’ve . . . I’ve had a girlfriend before. It didn’t end well. She used me to get closer to another guard, and I just—snapped.” I let my eyes drift open and see him rubbing a hand over his shaved head.
There’s ash-blonde stubble there, and on closer look, I realize he really is out of sorts about this. It doesn’t excuse it—not by a million miles—but maybe this is the break I needed, no matter how awful, to get us out of this hellhole.
What I say next matters, and I have to choose my words very carefully. It burns me to my very soul, but the image of Nell, shoulders hunched and tears tracking down her face at the idea of not being able to have a child with Atlas is front and center in my mind. So, I push down the revulsion, and the hatred, and all the negative emotions I feel for this man, and I say the one thing that opens the door back for him, the words like acid as they drip from my lips.
“Am I your girlfriend?”
Hope, fervent and zealous, blooms in his dead eyes. The sight of it chills me to the bone. “If you’ll still have me.”
I let the silence stretch, looking down at my hands, fidgeting with my blanket, anywhere but his eyes. Anywhere but at the sick hope that turns my stomach. I put it there, and a sick little part of me asks if I’m any better than him—leading him on—but I shove it down. I’m surviving, and I won’t apologize for it.
He leans in close to my ear, that thing he so loves to do, and whispers, his hot breath brushing my neck, “I’ll take you to the surface if you’ll give me another chance. Wear my dress.”
The words send a frisson of dark hope through me, so sharp it flays open my ribcage. Tears spring to my eyes yet again, and I nod, silently. Just once.
But it’s enough. He pulls back, and lets his fingers linger on the base of my neck for a second before turning to Annie.
“I’ve got to get back to my shift. I’ll come pick her up after and return her to her cell. See that she eats something,” he says, all cold indifference, as if I’m his prize hunting dog, not a grown woman with her own thoughts and desires.
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs, watching him leave, judgment hooding her eyes. Annie stays at her desk and, other than serving me a bowl of soup that someone brings an hour or so later, she doesn’t speak with me or look at me again.
Chapter twenty-five
Skirting the Line
Demy
Lee remains true to his word, and something’s shifted inside him since the incident. That’s what I call it, in my head. I can’t think about it any harder than that, or I’m back to wanting to claw the man’s eyes out, not play nice and pretend.
After three days of wearing his dress, day in, day out, my sink-scrubbed personal clothes are starting to taunt me from where I folded and stored them under the foot of my cot—Sherese’s idea.
We walk in our single-file line to breakfast, where I sit down next to Sherese at a different table from Emma. Nell waits in line, shooting nervous glances at me every four seconds while she inches along toward her tray.
Lee and Manuel bring our breakfast of chicken, beans, and a star-shaped fruit I’ve never tried before. To my surprise, on my tray, and mine alone, there’s half of a blueberry muffin. It’s crusted with sugar, and I can smell the sweet, fruity scent of it before I even pick it up.
Lee leans down, his hand hot where it brushes over my thigh in the thin, stretchy material of the dress. Nausea roils in my stomach at the suggestive touch, but I pretend I’m a statue, waiting for whatever whispered message he sees fit to bestow on me today.
“Tonight’s the night. I hope you’re ready.” He squeezes my thigh—far too close to my hip for comfort—and then walks away.
Tears gather along my eyelids as I blankly stare at the muffin.
“You must have really pleased that man,” Sherese observes, tone frosty as she picks up her star fruit and takes a delicate bite.
“I— I—” The words won’t come out.
Nell slams her palms down on the table across from me.
“There is something wrong with that woman! I swear, she gets joy by feeding off others’ misery!”
Sherese arches a dark eyebrow at the outburst.
“Who?” I ask, clinging onto anything that gets my head out of the ugly thoughts I was just swimming in.
“Erin! The one who attacked you and who is currently cozying up to Emma.” She waves angrily over her shoulder, where sure enough the aggressive redhead is sitting right next to Emma, looking prim in her blue dress.
