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Chapter Four
Branson
It’s a lot harder to judge the passing of time in the cage in the dark, but I imagine I’ve been in here for a few hours, otherwise I think it would already be starting to smell more. As it is, the scent of stale blood is almost like an old friend.
I’ve had the time to think about it, but somehow the puzzle of Amelia—or the girl that was Amelia—is something I haven’t cracked. I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised. She was always a bit strange, and her fascination with death is nothing new. Maybe the difference is before I could almost convince myself she didn’t know what she was doing.
Though she’s clearly fucking psychotic, it’s also clear that ‘Teddy’ knows exactly what she’s doing.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of familiar heavy footsteps coming toward me. Shifting my neck, I know I’m going to feel like hell when I get out of this stupid cage. My limbs have long since fallen asleep and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand.
It’s been so long since I’ve been in here. When I was a child, I spent days in here and while it wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t like this. But I was also much smaller then. It really is incredible what a few years not cramped into a tiny cage will do for one's growth.
The light flicks on, effectively blinding me, and sure enough, Bud lumbers in and heads over to the table. He eyes the corpse critically before grunting and pulling it off the table and into the waiting bin below. I say nothing, knowing that no amount of prompting or asking has ever gotten me out of here faster.
Bud pushes the bin toward the door then stops in front of my cage, bringing his head down.
“Miss your room? Gotten a bit small for ya, eh?” he mocks me, throwing his head back in laughter like he said the funniest thing. I say nothing, more than used to his idiot brand of harassment. There’s only one person who can cut me down with words.
Once Bud sees he isn’t going to get a reaction out of me he scoffs, opening the door to the cage.
“Well, come the fuck on then,” Bud says.
I move as fast as I can, which isn’t fast, to untangle my long limbs from the tiny cage. As predicted, my arms and legs tingle as the blood rushes back into them and my head swims with dizziness for a moment. Bud’s hand grabs my arm and leads me down the gallery and I’m actually thankful, because I’m pretty sure I would fall over otherwise.
We approach my room but instead of shoving me in, Bud pushes me toward the stairs. I hesitate a moment before he pushes me again.
“Come the fuck on then. I haven’t got all day, and the missus wants to see ya,” he grumbles. Swallowing, I make my way up the stairs to Jane for the first time in over two years.
???
“Well, well,” Jane says as I enter, clapping her hands and standing from her desk, “Look at how you’ve grown!”
I stand still and silent when she walks over to me, circling around. My skin burns with her eyes on me. I notice that I’m finally taller than her and I have to keep the corner of my mouth from turning up at the thought.
My eyes stay downcast as she continues whatever inspection she thinks she’s doing. I flinch when her hand reaches out to my chin, lifting my eyes to look into hers. I suppress a shiver at the sight of their inky depths, the psychosis just below the surface. She looks older than I remember. Bits of grey line the edges of her face, the lines around her eyes and mouth more pronounced than before.
“Still some fire in you yet,” she says in a whisper before dropping my chin. She turns and grabs something off of her dresser. I see a flash of what looks like a collar and feel myself tense from the phantom weight around my neck. The scars there are a result of the metal yoke I wore for so long before they left. Instinctively, I take a step back, knowing I can’t survive being in chains. Not again.
“Jane, please….”
My foot stops at Bud standing behind me and I push away, trying to get away from his grasp. He grips my arm as Jane turns, holding some kind of black plastic collar with a device on it. I thrash in earnest but even as strong as I’ve gotten, Bud is larger and stronger.
“Jane, please, I’ll listen!” I plead even as Bud wraps his arms around my chest, holding me in place. Screaming, I kick and flail even though I know it's useless. I’d feel pathetic right now if I wasn’t scared shitless.
But if Jane wants me in a collar, then in a collar I’ll be.
She steps closer and I all but growl at her, even when she gets close enough to click the device around my neck. The second the weight drops, Bud releases me and I fall to the ground, my hand immediately going up to my neck. It’s not metal like before. It’s smoother with something electronic attached to it. My chest heaves as a type of fury I’ve never felt before fills me.
Before I can think about what I’m doing, I scramble up with a scream and dive toward Jane. I don’t even get to her before pain like nothing I’ve felt shoots through me, and I drop like a rock. My breath comes out of me in a rush as another jolt hits me and all I can do is convulse on the ground.
By the time Jane releases the button in her hand, black is swimming in my vision. It takes a moment to clear and when it does, I realize I’ve pissed myself and almost bitten through my tongue. Blood fills my mouth, dripping down my throat.
I hear footsteps approach and manage to peer one eye up at Jane. The look of absolute disgust is written on her face, but she still manages a smirk as she waves the little button in front of me.
“Watch yourself, Branson,” she says in an eerie, quiet voice. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what happens when you anger me in the time I’ve been gone. I promise you will regret that I left you alive far sooner than I will if you cause problems.”
I say nothing, just stare into her pitch-black eyes. She kicks her foot into my rib and I let out a small grunt. Her smirk grows.
