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Blinking, I noticed the bandage wrapped around my leg and willed myself to feel the pain of the wound there, but there was nothing.
Numb.
I was numb and utterly naked save for that bandage.
My eyes burned and my lips tightened, but I wouldnotfucking cry. The bastard that stuck me in this cell didn’t deserve to see that.
Vivid imagery from what my mind cooked up in my sleep assaulted me. How good it felt to have them. To touch them. To be touched by them.
How those touches soured. Turned violent. How it hurt.
How badly it fuckinghurt.
I rolled my head to the left, finding the door to my cell.
It looked different, and I felt my brows try to furrow. Twitch instead.
It looked different because it was different. Drake had replaced the old door with a new one. One with a small plate glass window in the top so he could look in. And a slot near the bottom.
Things rested against the spotless cement floor there. A saturated paper bowl filled with something gray that I thought was porridge. Wedges of peeled orange on another paper plate, partially dried up from sitting too long. A paper cup.
My stomach ached at the sight, and I squeezed my eyes tight, ignoring the pain.
I couldn’t eat that.
Who fucking knew what he put in it.
But…
Much longer without any food or water and I’d be useless no matter what.
And eventually… eventually I wouldn’t be here at all.
I dragged myself over to the food, lifting a piece of orange to my nose, trying to smell the presence of drugs like Rook could.
I smelled only the pithy scent of orange peel and the juice waiting beneath. The porridge would be easy to spike. So would the small cup of water. But the oranges?
It was the best bet.
That’s what I kept telling myself as I stuffed each sliver into my mouth, one after another, until they were all gone and I was licking the remnants of their juice from my fingertips.
I became aware of the drip dripping sound somewhere outside the cell again, and heat spread across my back, fizzling out under the pressure of the drugs in my system before annoyance could turn to rage.
I threw the bowl of porridge at the door. The congealed mixture ran down the stainless steel in clumps. “Shut up,” I hollered, pressing my palms to my ears, the back of my head against the floor. My skin tightened with gooseflesh against the cold concrete and I tried harder than I ever tried anything not to think about the fact that I’ve been naked in this room for fuck knew how long.
Not just naked, but passed out. Drugged.
Everything looked the same, but that didn’t mean he didn’t touch me.
My stomach rebelled against the orange slices, and I swallowed hard to keep them down.
I gasped, removing my hands from my ears at the sound of something else. Something new.
The dripping was still there, but.
“Hello?” I called tentatively, dragging my half numb ass closer to the door. “Is someone out there?”
I pressed my ear to a spot not coated in porridge, waiting.
