I’m okay for the first few days, maybe even a week. I think I needed the rest, and my body is slowly recovering. I keep telling myself to be patient, but after memorizing every crack and corner of the ceiling, the small dent in the floor right beneath the table, the sequences the neon lights make every time they change color in disco mode, and the exact number of bites it takes me to finish a meal. I start to think this is getting ridiculous, I’m going to go insane soon.
I asked Mrs. Holloway to get me Ares. To tell him that I want to talk to him. But none of my attempts have been successful. The woman is like fucking steel. Sticks strictly to her business, which is keeping me alive. That’s it.
I’m beginning to see her less and less since I’m now able to walk, well more like, crawl to the bathroom by myself.
I’ve also been cutting down on meds for the past few days. Maybe that’s exactly why I feel so bored. I don’t even have a fucking TV. Which doesn’t exactly help the thousand scenarios running through my mind.
Even the food is basic, like the same hospital shit every day. All healthy and organic, nothing you’d usually find in my refrigerator. I miss my fucking Pop-Tarts so badly.
It’s day fourteen… or at least that’s what I managed to get out of the-nurse-from-hell who came to bring me dinner and fresh clothes. It’s today that I decide I need to do something. I’m done waiting for Ares to be ready to come down here. I would’ve given him a few more days, but while I was in the shower, I caught myself talking to my shampoo, so this pretty much marks a whole new level of insanity.
I’d really like to stop myself before I catch a fly and keep it as a pet. Or worse, a toenail.
I walk to the end of the hallway, where the wine rack is tightly shut. Luckily for me, I know the way out, even if Ares probably doesn’t suspect it.
It’s a few seconds' walk, but it took me a few minutes to get there using the crutches. My leg feels like it’s burning every time I shift my weight, and by the time I get to the shelf, I’m already considering going back because the distance from the shelf to Ares’ basement door is considerably larger.
I need to take a break next to the rack, I feel like I’ve run a damn marathon.
It’s not my fault I end up right next to a bottle of Eclipse Noire 1912—The Last Forbidden Harvest. It sounds decent enough, especially since I haven’t had anything remotely good to eat in days. It looks like this could be my recovery treat.
I do have a glass in my room, but there’s no way in hell I’m walking back there. I don’t have a corkscrew either, but I didn’t have one at home. Always forget to buy one, and Elias wasn’t that much of a wine drinker, so since he handled most of the shopping responsibilities, we didn’t own a corkscrew for like a year. That forced me to learn a few tricks. The easiest one is slipping the bottle into my house shoe, then wrapping my sweatpants tightly around it. After that, I tap the bottom of the bottle against the wall—light enough not to break it, but firm enough to build pressure and ease the cork out. I usually do this with a towel, but I don’t have anything that thick on me.
It works as always, the cork gets out just enough so I can grab it with my teeth and pull it out by twisting it.
Dinner is served, or at least the drinks for dinner are served, while I suddenly realize I’m very thirsty because I take down a third of the bottle, and that’s without taking it away from my lips.
This shit is strong as fuck.I mutter, and judging by the slight dizziness that hits me instantly, it might hit me harder than I expected.
That doesn’t mean I don’t take a few moments to enjoy it—the numbness, the way my senses surrender for a second. Even ifI’ve been on painkillers for the past few weeks, this is different. This numbs my mind, the memories, maybe even the pain. Though no matter how hard I try to numb Ares out of my mind, it doesn’t seem to be working. He just won’t leave.
I grab the bottle since I feel it’ll help me get through the passage easier, then start searching for the mechanism to open the rack. It works like a charm, the shelf moving as I pull the wooden lever.
Welcome Home.I murmur to myself as I realize I’m one step closer to Ares, without any real idea of what I should do from now on. Because my plan isn’t running.I need to face him, to confront him sooner or later. There is no real escape from this place—from this house or his life. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that I feel captive. Like the walls are closing in on me.
I move further down the long tunnel, passing room after room, even if my leg can barely keep up with my mind or my plans. The pain is vivid inside my body, even more when I sometimes forget about the crutches and try to rush, letting my foot down.
I just need to find a resolution. Closure to the pain or maybe even for my life.
I’m almost halfway to the exit when I stop in front of a door that’s way too familiar to me.
I know they all look the same, but this one feels like something’s calling me from behind it. For a second, I suspect it's the call of revenge, and I press the doorknob with the intent to grab any kind of weapon I can. But the second I’m in the room, something else entirely replaces it. A feeling I tried to keep buried for the last couple of weeks. A place I didn’t allow my soul to go to, because I honestly didn’t think it could handle it.
My hand slowly slips over my heart, as if I’m trying to stop it from beating so loudly. I’m in the middle of Ares’ trophy room, though it’s not the weapons proudly displayed on the walls thatgrab my attention. It’s the gold throne. The damn thing is lying there as if its sole purpose is to defy me. Or maybe to tear me apart from the inside out, reminding me of one of the few moments in my life when I didn’t feel trapped, when I didn’t feel I needed to do anything but be free. Happy. Funny how my freedom and happiness translated into belonging to someone. Still, that’s how I felt, even if it was for a mere second. Like I was light, protected, released from every chain and duty of my past.
My eyes linger on the gold throne much longer than I’d like. It's like the damn thing does something to me. Like a shift in cells that rewrites my DNA, and I suddenly want to be there again, even for a moment. To be free… to be his.
I quickly shake my head, like the thoughts coming to my mind aren’t really my own. Like a demon is trying to take control of me, poisoning me with feelings for the man who deserves nothing but my hate.
My eyes shift to the walls where his weapons of war are displayed, and for a second, I’m considering which one I should take along with me, but as I take a step, aiming to grab a long hunting knife, my physical condition reminds me that I’m limping.
I had a few tonochances to take down Ares when I was whole. But now… now he would probably kill me without lifting a finger and seeing me carrying a weapon will only speed that up.
Besides, I have a ruined moral compass that won’t let me forget the fact that he saved my life, even to make me his prisoner. I know I would have been dead if he hadn’t taken care of me. The same way I know he could’ve killed me right there in the asylum. Which makes things a little more complicated. Because I don’t know what I want anymore. Though I know what I promised. I promised I would avenge Elias. And somehow, I need to make good on that.
That makes me pick up another knife, smaller than the hunting one, the right size to hide beneath my clothes and keep handy, just in case Ares decides to end me—or I get an opportunity to end him.
I take a look at the bottle of wine I’ve been carrying all along. It sure doesn’t help with my walking, I just hope it helps with whatever the fuck is bubbling inside me.
