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And he was. Darren was spiraling, and it gave me hope.
I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out of here anymore, but at least I could take him down from the inside if I didn’t. Sitting up, I took in my body and breathed in a sigh of relief to find I was still dressed. Darren didn’t have morals, so I wouldn’t put it past him to rape me while unconscious. But he was lazy, and he would’ve left me undressed, not caring for my modesty, and to make sure I knew he’d done it. The psychological game with him was intense.
Which was probably why I hadn’t seen his deception coming in the beginning. At least, I liked to believe that. There were some lies you had to tell yourself to survive.
Gingerly, I made my way to the bathroom, happy I was still in this room. It might be barren, but it had comforts I’d missed in that cell. Turning on the water, I filled the tub, plunging into it when it was half full. The water was hot, and it scalded my skin as I sank below. For some reason, I liked the burn. It reminded me I was still alive.
A knock had me waking, and I sat up, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the tub. The water was now cold, and I shivered as I reached for the plug. The bathroom door opened, and I didn’t even look up, not surprised. Privacy had ceased to exist, and I was more concerned with not being in a cold tub than if they caught a peek of something.
“Apologies, ma’am. I didn’t realize.” The deep voice had me glancing up, finding the back of the guardian angel guard. “When you hadn’t made any sound for a while, or answered when I asked if you wanted lunch, I was concerned.”
“Are you supposed to be concerned about me?” I asked, stepping out of the tub. His arm shot out, a towel in his grip. Smiling, I took it, brushing my fingers across his knuckles. I was playing with fire, but something in me felt alive again, and I wanted to feel it for a moment. I’d gotten so used to feeling like the weak, sad girl I’d become that having this resurgence of my old self felt enticing.
“Of course,” he replied, not providing any more information.
It warmed something in me, and I found my lips moving in a pattern I hadn’t felt for a long time—a smile.
“Well, your concern is cute. Thank you, but as you can see, or well, I suppose hear, since you appear to be a blushing bride, I’m fine.”
He whirled, his green eyes meeting mine. “I’m not blushing!”
I watched as his eyes strained to not drop down to my chest and was impressed when they held my eyes the whole time. Smiling, I clasped my towel, stepping around him. Patting his chest, I leaned in close. “You sure about that, green eyes? You might want to check the mirror.”
I walked out of the room, the urge to peek over my shoulder to see if he did look into the mirror so strong. Heading over to the small dresser, I pulled out the only other outfit I had. Darren allowed me to have one clean pair of clothing on hand at all times. I didn’t know if it was practical, so I didn’t steal a bunch if I ran away or another psychological mind play. He only gave me enough clothes for the amount of time I’d be here.
Either way, it was annoying, but it made it easier to get dressed, considering I had no options. Once I was clothed in the gray sweatpants, gray hoodie, and white socks, I sat on the bed and attempted to finger-comb my hair with my one good hand. It had dried some in the bath, the tangles even more prominent now, making it complicated.
“Here,” a deep voice said, stepping closer to me. I peered up through the damp strands, finding his tall frame in front of me. A comb was in his hand, and I stared at the item like it was a foreign object.
“It’s a comb,” he said, a slight chuckle in his voice.
“I know what it is, but…” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “I looked over every inch of this room, and that’s never been in here before. So, I’m just confused where it came from.”
“I had it in my pocket.”
“You carry combs in your pocket?” I asked, the incredulousness thick in my voice.
He shrugged, and I could’ve sworn his cheeks tinted a little more. Tentatively, I stretched out my hand to touch it.
“I know it has teeth, but it won’t bite.”
A laugh escaped me, and I wrapped my hand around it, no longer afraid he would pull it away as soon as I did. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…” I shrugged; no other words were needed. I couldn’t trust anything in this place, not even something as simple as a comb.
“I get it.” I looked up, meeting his eyes, seeing sincerity there. Nodding, I scooted back on the bed, needing a little space from the friendly gesture. A tear started to build, and I sucked it down, not wanting to show weakness. How awful was this place that the first kind gesture had me welling up?
I started to use my left hand to comb, but it immediately got stuck. It had been so long since I’d actually brushed my hair; the tangles were unreal. Using my palm, I attempted to hold down the top of my hair so it wouldn’t pull as bad on my scalp as I picked apart the bottom. It was hard going, and my arms grew tired in seconds. I was panting within a minute, and the idea that combing my hair was this difficult now and took so much energy was enough to bring the tears back.
Fuck Darren.
Fuck the Delgados.
Fuck love and fuck men.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
A large hand wrapped around the one, picking away at my hair, lifting my fingers off the comb and taking it back. I deflated, knowing the notion had been too good. Not only couldn’t I comb my own hair, but he was taking it away.
Tears streamed down my face, and I found myself wanting to curl up into a ball and hide. Maybe if I made myself small enough, Darren wouldn’t see me?
