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“We need supplies for where we’re going, and you’d probably like some fresh clothes… and a shower. I’m going to get what we need, and then we only have another day or two until we start our new lives. Evan and Octavia will die, and we can be whoever we want to be.” He sounds so passionate, so rooted in his belief, it’s shocking. I just nod and smile.
“A shower would be divine,” I gush, smiling wider, not having to fake it this time. Though showering with these bandages is going to be interesting.
He nods before taking back the water. “That's what I thought. I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll get you sorted. I’ve missed you, V.”
I swallow the bile that rises in my throat as he looks at me like he’s loved me a thousand lifetimes, and force out the words I know he wants to hear. “I missed you too, P.”
He turns and leaves, shutting off the main lights and leaving me with just the lamp again.
Panic rises at the thought that I only have a day or so to get myself out of this mess. But I have no choice. There is no way I’m being taken away from the people I love.
The only way he’s getting me out of here is dead and cold.
* * *
Evan has been gone for so long that I’m starting to think something happened to him. I can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing. The food has perked me up a fair amount and I no longer feel like I’m going to pass out at any given minute, but the burn on my ankle is beyond itchy.
I’ve been working on trying to slip these cuffs, but I’m at the point where I’ve realized I’m not getting out of them without dislocating something unless he releases me. My wrists and ankles are already raw from being burned and bound, but the pain is one of the few things keeping me coherent.
He has been softening the closer we get to ‘leaving,’ and the more submissive to his bullshit I get, the more he seems to let his guard down. I’m just glad he hasn’t put me through his deprogramming again yet. Now all I have to do is make him believe I’m entirely on board and with him. I’m not sure how that’s going to go, but I am all in and committed to it.
Whatever it takes to get free and get back to my guys.
If they survived everything.
I shake away that thought and refocus on my plan. If it means hurting Evan, then that's what it takes. I’ve come to the realization since he’s held me here that survival for me might mean doing shit I’m not happy about, but I’m not letting him win.
Not this time.
I am sick of being on the back foot with everything in my life. Starting now, I’m being proactive rather than reactive. I’m not just going to let shit happen to me. I might’ve had my head in the sand regarding a lot of stuff after my dad's death, and I’ve tried to be more with it the last few months, but I am done with trying.
From here on out, I’m doing.
Starting with getting myself out of here. I can’t rely on the possibility that someone might come save me. My dad taught me better than that, and I’m not about to dishonor his memory by being that girl.
The sound of footsteps overhead makes me pause. It’s just one set this time, and I’m hoping that means it’s just Evan. Something heavy thuds above me and I jump at the sound.
Goddamn being so on edge.
My hands tremble from the exertion of trying to free myself when I have so little energy. I just have to hope he doesn’t question it.
I steel myself as the door at the top of the stairs opens and his heavy footsteps clamber down the stairs. “Oh good, you’re still awake. It’s nearly time for us to go.”
I smile softly, biting down on the rage and panic that simmers beneath the surface. “Okay, that sounds good. Can I clean up before we go?”
He watches me closely, as if looking for any sign of deception, but my poker face has always been better than that. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”
It’s all he says as he moves toward me. I eye the gun on his hip, gulping, because if he unties me, this could be my only chance, but the gun puts me at a major disadvantage. If that darker side of him shows itself, I have very little doubt he’ll hurt me and convince himself it was to help me.
“I won’t,” I say, looking down at the ground, but he cups my chin and lifts my gaze to his before kissing me tentatively. My entire body screams at how wrong this is, but I force myself to kiss him back softly. His groans turn my stomach, but I force myself to lean into him.
He pulls back and unties my ankles, then my wrists. I fall forward onto him, and he wraps his arms around me. I pause for a moment, sad for what our friendship has become as I wrap my arms around him, then do what I know I have to.
I wrap my hand around the grip of the gun and pull it from the holster as I step back and dart around him. Pulling the gun up so he’s looking down the barrel, adrenaline floods me and I feel like I could do anything.
“Do not make me hurt you,” I parrot back at him as his eyes narrow at me. Taking a tentative step backwards toward the stairs, I keep the gun raised, flicking the safety off. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
He rushes at me, and in my broken and bruised state I’m not quick enough to get a shot off before I feel the burning pain in my ribs as he tackles me to the ground. I drop the gun, staring at the bloody knife in his hand. He looks shocked and sad as he stares at me.
