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As soon as his footsteps faded, I was off the bed like a fire had been lit beneath my ass, straight into the lemon scented bathroom.
It was tiny with dull yellow tiled flooring, and only contained a toilet and sink, but all I needed was running water and a bar of soap.
Turning the little silver knob with an H embellished on the top, I grabbed one of my wash rags from the wicker basket Noah had placed on the toilet’s tank.
Steam rose from the stream of water. I drenched the rag, fighting the urge to pull my hand back even as it shook uncontrollably from nerves and turned a dark pink from the heat. My heart was beating so fast, I thought for sure it was going to come right through my chest.
“Ignore it all,” I whispered to myself.
I rolled my lips together in a firm line to keep the hysteria ready to empty from my lungs quiet. I’d cried too many times already—ugly, terribly loud sobs.
I wouldn’t give him any more of my tears. I couldn’t, anyway; the pain was there, but the well had run empty.
I never let Noah see how severely his actions sabotaged my psyche.
It excited him and made things worse for me. I’d yet to decide if it was a small saving grace when he raped me and I awoke to feel nothing but the come and soreness he left behind, or a disadvantage not to feel everything from the beginning.
There were times I woke up. Others, I didn’t. Often enough, he woke me up for the pure entertainment of fighting his way inside me. I’d been taken advantage of so many times at this point, I wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. I just wanted it to stop.
I’d never felt more trapped than I did now, and sometimes I thought I deserved this.
I was the one who ran away from home, so desperate for a taste of freedom.
Watching my uncle be cut open and dismembered for a family of cannibals’ weekly supper wasn’t penance enough.
I didn’t miss the city, though—not even a little bit.
I suppose life was now punishing me for the company I chose to keep. She was a mean bitch like that.
Grabbing the soap and making good use of the rag, I began to vigorously scrub between my legs, ignoring how badly it burned. I had half a mind to shove the soap inside me to clean away where he’d been.
I was so damn grateful his intent wasn’t to get me pregnant. He made me take a contraceptive with the only drink he allowed me to have—water.
It was always a gamble if he’d laced it or not, but it was either risk pregnancy by refusing the liquid, or drink it to receive the pill.
I was real familiar with the packag
e it came in. My ma made me take the same ones.
As far as I knew, they were only available in Centriole. To get something like that in the Badlands, you would need a pretty penny or solid connection. The fact that Noah had some told me more than he might have thought.
That kind of thing is what made him so stupid. He had loose lips, and never seemed to realize I heard everything that went on when I wasn’t drugged. Didn’t he know I was foe, not friend?
I retained as much information as I could because I still had a small sliver of hope I’d be gettin out of this shithole. I knew if it were up to Cali, she’d have stormed the building with a take no prisoners approach already, but she wasn’t in any position to do that. She was growing a baby.
She may not have been some mushy sentimental person, but I knew she wouldn’t risk her child—nor would Romero ever allow it. Not for me. And I didn’t want her to. She was Romero’s queen—quite literally.
The man had a nasty attitude and seemed made of stone, but he adored her. I was envious of that. I didn’t think epic love was in the cards for me, though.
The only person I’d ever felt drawn to like a magnet wasn’t really a relationship kinda guy, and there was a whole unrequited mess between us.
Shutting the sink off, I wrung out my rag, avoiding my reflection. I didn’t want to see the shame looking back at me. After re-positioning my slip—the only clothing Noah allowed—I went back into the bedroom.
The four wood paneled walls were different than the teal ones that had surrounded me a month ago.
According to what Noah had just said, we’d been here three weeks, which meant we’d be moving again soon. He never stayed in the same place for long. I had no real measurement of time in regards to how long he’d had me, but I estimated a solid sixty days, minimum.
Crawling onto the bed, I avoided the place my legs had just been sprawled apart. I drew my knees to my chest, and rested my cheek on them, staring at nothing.
