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“That’s wonderful. So you take your orders from Abraham Demechnef and Orin Blackforth?” I ask, keeping my head still under the restraint that’s making my forehead numb.
“No, not anymore. Now it’s from—” He stops himself. Hesitates for several moments. “Your travel companion doesn’t tell you all of Demechnef secrets?” There’s caution and baffling amusement in his tone.
Why does he keep referring to him as my travel companion?
“Told me what?”
He snickers, sounding like a rat feasting in the garbage.
“Well, I certainly cannot tell you. And you know that clearly pains me to withhold information as I do love educating you.” I’m beginning to understand the nature of Albatross’s personality. He’s narcissistic and deeply enjoys the thrill of knowing what others don’t know. Privileged. Shallow. Insecure.
“Could you educate me on something else then? Like what you have planned for me?” I ask quietly. I’ve decided I’m rather talented at playing alone with mental anomalies like this.
He clucks his tongue. “Part of what I have planned includes you being in the dark about what I have planned. If you knew, it would all be corrupted.”
The old crone examines the insides of my ears with a tool I can’t see. When she opens my mouth, I realize the lining of my tongue, mouth, and the inside of my esophagus are drier than the taut skin on Absinthe’s elbows. I haven’t had food or water in… in…. How long have I been here? A day, I think. Perhaps two days. I’ve blacked out and fallen asleep a couple of times.
The ache in my stomach is growing like the constant need I have to stretch my body out. The discomfort has been so constant, it’s turning into a dull and annoying pain. I want to ask for water or a couple of crackers, but I’m scared of getting the back of old Absinthe’s bony knuckles. My under eyes still throbs.
“Her vitals say she’s dehydrated and low on several key nutrients.” Absinthe turns to the dark corner, the red-covered kneecaps.
Oh, thank God. I don’t even care what they give me, I’ll take anything.
Silence.
“Feed her then.”
Yes! I could have gone longer, of course. I spent half my life hungry. But the thoughts would overtake me. Will they ever feed me? Do they want me to starve to death? How long will I wait until I have even a small sip of water?
Absinthe leaves my side to fetch a meal and in the time she’s gone, Albatross stays quiet. Watching me. Or maybe he left too. A deep, controlled breath comes from his corner.
Definitely watching me.
I wait patiently in the awkward silence, knowing he has his eyes glued to me, knowing that he knows I’m aware that he is watching me. But I don’t even mind. I’m going to eat. I’m going to have some water. I’m going to be okay, this might not be that bad. Sure, there was the illusion of my collarbone breaking. That was rough. But now I understand him better. I can keep myself out of harm’s way until Dessin comes for me. Maybe I’ll even ask Dessin to spare him.
Absinthe approaches my side with a rolling table. I try to suck in any whiffs of hot food but so far, I’ve got nothing. My eyes strain to my right to try and see what she has set out for me. Is she going to feed me herself? If so, I won’t argue. I just need to keep up my health.
Another deep, controlled breath from Albatross’s corner. Absinthe looks in his direction. She nods. Picks up what sounds like a cup or a plate. Touches it to my lips. Thank you, Grandma Absinthe. Seriously, thank you.
“Open up.” Her grumpy tone demands my cooperation. Say no more, Absinthe.
I open my mouth, unable to prop up my head to swallow whatever she pours into my mouth. Probably water first. I’ll manage. Something metal enters my parted lips and sits between my front teeth. My pulse picks up. Absinthe hovers over me with a rubber tube, aiming it for the hole of the metal mouthpiece, the contraption that is prying my mouth wide open. The tube is inserted. It moves against my tongue, slowly pushing against the back of my throat.
Wait… I make a grunting sound as it touches the part of my tongue that makes me want to gag. It’s going too far. That’s enough!
Adrenaline and terror shoot down my spine. My tongue and throat spasm in my mouth, a natural response to force an unwanted object out. The tube is pushed out, only by the tiniest centimeter.
“Just for that, I’m not going to be gentle, girl.” Absinthe thrusts her body forward and jams the tube past my best muscular defenses. My throat opens up for the tube as its edges scrape past my uvula and tonsils. A throaty, gargled scream involuntarily generates from my chest. I start to gag as it moves farther down my esophagus, followed by choking and exasperated sobs. My eyes fill up with fluid, not the kind from any particular emotion, but the kind that happens when you get hit in the nose or get something like a speck of sand stuck in your eyes.
Dessin, please come now! I need you! Please, help me! Help me! Help me!
The more I jerk around, the heavier the urge is to dry heave, so I hold still. Just like the broken collarbone, it helps not to move.
With wide, bloodshot eyes, I gawk at the raw eggs being dumped down a funnel connected to my tube. The orange globs and clear, slimy fluids swirl as they drain down my tube. I lurch at the sight of it falling into my mouth. This triggers the gagging, like a contagious attack of my body rejecting the objects prying me open. My abdominal muscles burn from the rapid contractions, loosening and tightening, making my chest, gut, and back inflamed.
By now, the eggs must have completely filled my stomach to the brim. Because the pressure in my gut is stretching my tummy outward, protruding against my ribs. TAKE IT OUT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH! But she picks up another pitcher, pouring clear liquid into the funnel. It’s water, I think. Just water. But the pressure is building in my core, my stomach protruding and my rib cage expanding. I’m going to explode! Is this how I’m going to die? I’d rather starve!
Choking sounds escape my mouth, like a deer with an arrow plunged through its throat. In a guttural heave, the water sprays back up from the funnel, showering both me and Absinthe with water, runny eggs, saliva, and bile. It gets in my eyes and nose. Absinthe shrieks, shaking her head back and forth, trying to dodge the downpour.
