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I can’t let him have this baby. Nor can I have this baby inside this cell. Cage is right. I have to escape, no matter the cost.
I stare at the camera hanging in the corner, wondering how long I have to wait. It’s the first time I’m actually prepared. Why? I took the small scissors from the first-aid kit and tucked them below my dress, right between my thighs with the sharp end pointing down, of course.
I’m hoping the mess I created when I patched up Cage covered it up. If not, I always have plan B.
The moment the gas turns on, I move into action. I quickly wrap up the sheets, douse them in the water from the faucet, and wrap them around my head. Then I lie down on the floor and start fake coughing.
Cage watches me from his cell with a worried look on his face. He attempts to reach out to me, but the pain stops him halfway through.
I nod at him, and he does too. I know we’re thinking the same thing.
It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
Soon, the gas stops. I breathed in enough to feel drowsy and weak but not enough to pass out. It’s just enough to fool Graham into thinking I’m incapacitated.
So I wait and wait until I hear the door creak open. Graham steps out, tentatively checking on me and his son.
“Learn your lesson?” I hear him ask.
I can’t open my eyes for fear of discovery, so I just listen.
Cage groans, the noises going through marrow and bone, but I have to stay still. Have to surrender in order to win.
“Good,” Graham says. “Now behave while I examine her. If you do as I say, you’ll be fine. I’ll have doctors come and visit you. Agreed?”
“Yes,” Cage grumbles, immediately coughing afterward.
Graham walks past my cell, and I hear him enter the black door. I quickly take a peek at Cage, who’s gotten up from the floor and is now stumbling to his bed. He lets himself fall onto the soft bed, groaning out loud again, clearly in a lot of pain.
I hate the sound of it, but I know I have to ignore it. This moment is my only chance. My last shot at freedom. I can’t waste it.
However, I can definitely feel the gas take effect, causing my body to feel numb again. I can’t move any of my limbs, and the moment Graham lifts me from the floor, I feel like a ragdoll. He pulls the sheets off me and chucks them onto the bed and places me in the wheelchair. Then he rides off with me while I pretend not to be awake to witness it all.
When the door closes behind us, I know I’ve left the room I shared with Cage. A button is pressed. A beeping sound ensues. We go in. The elevator goes down. Another beep. The door opens, and he pushes me out again. We go through some hallways, which feel endless, but I refuse to open my eyes because I could out myself.
So I keep them shut until Graham lifts me up again and throws me down on a metal table. Just like the one from before when he took the ultrasound pictures.
I wish I could run, but my body doesn’t respond to any signals except for a few twitches. I try not to flinch as he firmly ties the straps around my body, locking me in place. I hate being tied up, but I’ll have to sit it out and wait until my body regains the strength it needs to fight.
Suddenly, the radio is turned on, and I hear that awful song again, “Don’t Worry Baby.”
“So … pregnant, huh? Let’s have a look,” he mumbles, and I hear something like a chair roll across the floor.
I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s quiet for a few seconds while he taps on some kind of device. Maybe he took the pregnancy stick with him. I can’t tell, but the sound freaks me out. I hope to God he won’t start probing me while I’m awake. Anything but that.
When he comes closer, I tense up as he starts taking my temperature and swabs the inside of my mouth with a cotton. The second time he comes back, he pushes a needle into my skin, forcing whatever liquid inside my body. It could be anything, poison for all I know.
But he wouldn’t do that now that I’m pregnant, right?
He wants this baby more than I do.
He needs it to be safe, so everything he’s doing right now is probably beneficial to my health. At least, that’s what I hope.
This probing and stuffing and checking goes on for about half an hour until he’s done all the tests he can. My body has already begun to get rid of the numbing agent inside my veins, as everything tingles. It’s not long before I can move my fingers and lift my arms properly again.
