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This is so messed up.
I scream out into the nothingness as tears stream down my face and allow myself to break. There’s no point in trying to shove it down this time. It’s not going to save me.
Nothing is going to save me. Either I die here with Panda, or I die at the hands of the Knights apparently.
I’m not usually one for woe is me moments but right now, I’m going to woe the fuck out.
“V…”
“You don’t get to call me that,” I hiss. “My friends call me V, and you, Evan, are not my friend. Friends don’t kidnap each other and tie them up, or fucking shoot at each other. This is bullshit.” I struggle in my restraints, hoping that something comes loose. But even if it doesn’t, I get to at least try to do something.
He presses his lips into a thin line. It's like a switch inside of him flips and that darker side of him comes back to the surface.
He just laughs in response as he moves toward me. “I’m assuming you need to use the bathroom. Are you going to behave, or do I need my gun?”
As if triggered by his words, my bladder makes itself known. Apparently being hooked up to an IV will do that to you, and I’d really rather not pee myself. Though the thought of being even close to submissive to him raises my hackles.
I shake my head. “You don’t need your gun.”
He moves closer, unhooking the IV from my arm before releasing one of my ankles from its binding, but then shackles it to my other leg with a length of rope. He does the same to my wrists, binding them in front of me. “If you do anything stupid, I will teach you a lesson about disobeying me. Do you understand, little dove?”
I ignore him while trying to make sure I don’t fall. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but my body is weak as fuck. As much as I’d love to fight him right now, I’m not sure my body could do it.
“Little dove?” The new nickname is gross. Like I’m something small and fragile to be protected and coveted. Fuck this, and fuck him.
I snap my gaze back up to meet his. “My name is Octavia.”
“There’s that fire. I’ll break you down soon enough, then you can rise. Like my very own phoenix from the ashes.”
I don’t respond, because it's useless and I need to save my energy to move. I also have no idea how to deal with this version of him. “Where is the bathroom?”
“Up the stairs.” He grins. I waddle toward the stairs as best as I can, but I’m out of breath and dizzy by the time I reach the bottom step. I try a few times to lift one foot up high enough to climb them, but the bindings make it impossible.
“I’ve got you, little dove,” he says and steps up behind me, lifting me into his arms bridal style. He looks down at me with a twisted sort of affection in his eyes. My stomach rolls from being so close to him.
He buries his nose in my hair and sucks in a breath, and it's all I can do not to swing both hands up and hit him in the face.
Goddamn my body for betraying me, leaving me so weak.
He carries me up the stairs and across a dilapidated kitchen, down a hall, to a half bath. “Do you need help in there?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say through gritted teeth. There is no way I’m letting him in the bathroom with me. I’m all too aware that he could easily make me, but he seems to want to keep his façade of protector up, so I’ve just got to hope that stays in place. He puts me down, holding me until I’m steady. My skin crawls under his touch, but my head spins at the sudden movement, so I can’t even pull away from him as quickly as I want to.
He hands me a fresh pair of pants and a tank. I consider ignoring them, the idea of accepting anything from him almost as disgusting as this imaginary relationship he seems to think we have, but I’m fucking gross right now.
As soon as I’m sure I’m not going to face-plant, I scoot toward the door and nearly fall on my face.
I turn back to face him, trying to look as broken as I can. “Can you untie me, please? I can’t clean up if I’m tied up. I can barely walk.”
He watches me closely, tapping the gun on his hip. “If you try to run, or do anything else just as stupid, I will use this.”
My heart pounds in my chest at the possibility that he might actually untie me, but also the thought of getting shot. I really want to get out of here, but I really don’t want to get shot. He steps forward and unties the bindings at my wrists before stepping back and pulling the gun. “Untie your ankles and head inside.”
I do as he says, trying not to freak out about the gun pointed at my head. Usually I wouldn’t think he’d pull the trigger, but he’s a little unhinged right now. I pull at the bindings on my ankles, freeing them before shooting into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. It’s a flimsy as fuck lock, but it's something. Pretty sure it’d be useless if he really tried to break it open, but it makes me feel a little better at least.
I look around the room at the broken tiles, the flickering light, and the window that’s been bricked closed. Awesome. Definitely no way out of here except for the door then.
Feeling resigned, I undress, washing as best I can, trying not to look at my reflection in the dirty, grainy mirror. It’s impossible to miss the dark purple streaks under my eyes, and my hair is matted and gross.
