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After being through so much in this depraved prison, I never even thought of my monthly calendar, let alone actually having a period. That I’m still able to bleed surprises me … I guess nature doesn’t give up as easily as I had hoped.
But then I realize … why does this even matter to Graham?
I look up and watch him take down the ultrasound pictures. He sighs and says, “I’ll give you some pads and underwear along with a disposal bag when you go back to your cell.”
Despite trying so desperately, I stammer, but no words come from my mouth. I don’t want to go back into that glass cage. Anywhere but there. The small space is killing me.
“Oh …” A vicious smile spreads on his lips. “Are you trying to talk?” He laughs. “How amusing to watch you struggle.”
That bastard. Laughing at my expense.
“What is it that you called it? Selective mutism?” he muses, watching for my reaction.
I try to stay calm—I honestly do—but that look on his face brings me terror unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I knew he was watching us through the cameras … I just never realized the extent of it. How often? How much? Does he listen in to every conversation?
Of course, he’d never tell me. That’d be like giving away his hand, and he plays to win. I’m just a chess piece on the board I’ve yet to understand.
However, when he opens his mouth, it uncovers itself.
“Well, no matter,” he says. “I know all I want. You’re not pregnant. We’ll try again when possible.”
Pregnant.
The keyword that unravels me.
The chess piece that beats them all.
“What? Is that a surprise to you?” he asks, closing in on me. Shaking his head, he says in a condescending voice, “You should’ve known I wanted you to have sex with him for a reason. You’re not just a prize he won.”
My lip quivers as he brushes my face ever so gently, the mere touch of his skin on mine making me want to puke.
“You’re so pretty, so thin and curvy at the same time … perfect … for conceiving.”
No amount of breathing can provide the oxygen I need right now. I feel lightheaded. Sick to my stomach. On the verge of passing out.
“You’re not just here for him. You’re here for me,” he says with a low voice. “So his sperm can create the perfect fighter for me to make money off of … over and over again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Accompanying Song: “What A Wonderful World” by Sharon Van Etten & Juggernaut Kid
Ella
A chill runs down my spine.
Babies. That’s what all this was about. It’s why I was taken. Why I was put in that glass prison. Why he made me fuck Cage … so I could make a baby that grows up into a fighter worth lots of money.
I’m breathing heavily as panic shoots through my body, making me want to run.
This can’t be happening. I can’t become pregnant. Not in this place. Not now.
When he approaches me, I can feel the fire running through my veins, forcing me to act. I can’t lie here and be silent while he takes what little I have left of my humanity. I won’t allow it.
When his fingers undo the leather straps around my body to put me in the wheelchair again, I’m still weak from the drugs, but I can feel my nerves awakening. A burst of strength flows through my body from sheer willpower, and the moment my feet are unlocked from the binds, I kick him.
Hard. Right in his face.
I roll off the table, trying to land on my feet, but I end up on my knees. Pain shoots through my body, but I ignore it as I grasp the first thing in view: a metal tray. As he comes back up, raging out loud, I smack it against his face.
He topples down to the floor, and I scramble away through what seems like a door. I still can’t make out everything around me, as my vision is still hampered, but I won’t let it hold me back.
I have to flee. Have to get out of here.
The urge to dash is stronger than the pain, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.
I glance behind me for only a second to determine whether he’s out before I make a break for it. Still half-intoxicated and completely wobbly on my legs, I make my way through the door and down seemingly endless halls.
I don’t know how much of what I see is real and how much of it is my imagination running wild, but I have to focus in order to get out of here. So I home in on all the doors and pick one then go down a set of stairs, almost tumbling over the last few.
Despite my lungs feeling as if they’re on fire, I run and run. I pass a room with an elevator and a black door with a numbered padlock on it. I pause for just a second, realizing this might just be where he keeps us. Behind that door … could be Cage. And I’m leaving him there. I’m abandoning him.
