Hours later
I’ve lost all sense of reality. Whether it’s night or day, I wouldn’t know. The lights are always on and there are no windows to see the sun or the moon. A whirlwind of emotions storm through my head, too fast for me to keep up. I thought I had lost my mother to strangers, monsters in the dark. Turns out, she has been alive all this time. I found her, only to lose her again. Twice I have experienced the death of my mother.
Twice they have to pay for their sins.
I stare at the ceiling, blinking away the nothingness clouding my judgment. I want to cry but can’t. I have no more tears to shed. I hate her, but I loved her. I missed her, but I’m glad she’s dead. She deserved to die for what she did … but not like that. Not alone and miserable.
Still, nothing I can do will change this fact. I will just have to learn to live again.
However, I can’t get this creeping thought out of my head that there was more to it than I’m seeing now.
My door creaks open, and I lift my head to see who comes in. It’s a nurse; a different one from the lady I hit on the head. I swallow as she steps closer and sweeps her eyes over me as if she’s checking if I’m really strapped to the bed. As if she’s afraid that I’ll hit her, too.
She’s right, I might.
My muscles can only think about one thing and that’s getting the hell out of here.
The woman pulls a syringe from her pocket.
“What are you going to do with that?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she comes even closer and rolls up my sleeves. I push myself away from her as far as I can, cringing. Whatever is in that syringe, I am not having it. I don’t trust anyone here. It can’t be good, but I’m locked in place, unable to escape.
“Get away from me!” I scream, jerking on the restraints.
When the needle enters my arm, I yell, “Fuck!”
At first it’s hot, and then I can slowly feel the numbness creep in. At first, it’s only my arm, but then it moves down to my legs and soon my entire body is affected. It feels like exhaustion. Although I know that can’t be it, because I’ve just slept, but I can’t help but feel drowsy. My eyes barely stay open and when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My throat has gone dry, my vocal cords unable to pronounce words. One last look at her guilty face and I’m gone.
Accompanying song: “Angel” by Massive Attack
When I wake up again, my head feels woozy. Everything is still a blur, and I have to wait until I can make out where I am. A small room with one light shining right into my face. I blink a couple of times, pushing the sand from my eyes while I try to awaken my muscles. It’s impossible. They are strapped yet again. This time my chest is against the chair, and I struggle to breathe as I look up. There are rows of windows in front of me. Figures are behind them, and I don’t know what they are, but once they move, I realize they are people.
What in the hell is this?
My lips part but my vocal cords can only muster a groan.
“Good morning, Miss. Did you have a nice sleep?”
The voice comes from the speaker. I don’t know who it is, but I recognize the sound. Shivers run up and down my spine. It’s then that I realize I can feel the cold air rush over my body as a door opens behind me. I no longer care about whose voice that was. All I care about is the fact that I’m naked and that there are people staring at me right now.
I howl, but the only sound coming from my mouth is a tiny squeak. I feel weak, vulnerable, and left alone to someone else’s mercy. I wish I had the strength in me to move, to whack the person who just came in. Wish I wasn’t awake enough to realize this is all happening.
I try to swallow, but nothing happens. I can’t see anything. All I hear is footsteps coming closer and my own heart beating out of control. If my body could tremble, it would be shaking violently right now. I feel trapped in a body that no longer belongs to me. I plead in my head to make it stop, but who can listen to me? Me, and I’m not going anywhere like this.
Something touches my back. I lose it.
My mouth opens again, no sound coming out except for a soft moan while I’m practically screaming. I can feel everything, and yet I can’t move. Why? What is the point? Is this just to scare me, or do they actually intend to harm me? It has to be Newman. He brought me somewhere where his men could use me. Finish the job.
I flinch as two fingers slide up my back and then down again, tickling my still numb nerves. Everything is going haywire; my senses are on high alert, but my muscles are incapable of acting on it. More fingers are added and soon an entire hand is placed on my ass cheek. Rubbing up and down, he feels me up, while I am unable to stop him. I know it is one of them, but who? If only I could see him, I would send him a death threat with my eyes.