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Chapter Seven
Branson
It takes me a moment to figure out I’m even awake. It’s so dark that even with my eyes open, there’s nothing, but it's the urging of my bladder that finally delivers belief. My head pounds, but as the fog clears, it occurs to me that I’m horizontal. My shoulders ache underneath me, no doubt a result of being strung up so long. Groaning, my arm rises to strike out but is abruptly stopped by a wall and not the familiar bars of my cage. With awareness comes panic.
I flail my arms and legs, blocked on all sides by walls I can’t see.
I stop moving, trying to slow my heart and breathing long enough to figure out where I am. Something of Jane’s making. Or Teddy’s.
With more patience, I move my hands around me, figuring out the size of my newest accommodation. Lifting my leg, I can’t bend it fully before it's stopped by the board in front of me. Stretching down, I find the end of it is just past where my toes rest. My arms move along the smooth expanse of this new prison. Despite my efforts, I find my breathing picking up as recognition starts to hit me. I’m in a fucking coffin.
I actually let out a small laugh. My time has finally come, and honestly, I’m not sure if I’m more pissed or relieved. The panic I felt on waking is less just knowing where I am, morbid as it may be.
I always expected my death to be on Jane’s table. I figured I’d piss her off one too many times, or she’d run out of victims. Or maybe she’d just get bored one day and decide to carve me up. I didn’t expect the bitch to bury me.
Then again, it could have been Teddy’s idea, a dark voice in the back of my mind says.
In reality, this isn’t Jane’s style. She tortures, yes, but even she doesn’t get the joy that Mia—well, Teddy—gets from it. Whatever darkness was in her already bloomed under Jane’s tutelage. The last few years has let it grow and now, she’s a full-blown fucking psycho.
My bladder presses against me and I know I won’t be able to hold it much longer. All I can do and wait and see if this is my death, or just the beginning of the end.
???
Time passes and there’s nothing for me to track the time. Outside of the coffin all is quiet, and I wonder if I’m underground already. The thought actually makes me smile. There’s something so quiet and peaceful-sounding about death.
It occurs to me that while the air is stale and unmoving, I can still breathe. So, probably not buried. Unless I’m just going to start running out of oxygen any minute now. That doesn’t sound so bad, really. Better than starving to death. With the meager amounts I eat, my body is practically used to starving and I figure I’ll last a long time.
Yes, drifting to sleep sounds infinitely better.
My mind wanders through the various ways I might die until a noise outside the coffin pulls my attention back. My head rises an inch, trying to determine if I did hear something, dropping when a familiar voice triggers new misery.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Teddy’s voice rings out.
Some muffled bangs ring out and I sigh, closing my eyes and readying myself for whatever is next. A few loud cracks and the lid lifts, my hands immediately flying to my face to shield against the brightness above. My eyes immediately begin to water at the light, and I wonder how long I’ve been in there. Giggles ring out above me.
“Come on out, silly,” she says. “Jane says your timeout is over now.”
I can’t see and my eyes water fiercely, but I feel something grab my hand and realize it’s hers. Squinting, I look up at her, the light behind her head making her look like some kind of golden fucking angel here to deliver me from my misery.
“Take it,” she says, shaking her hand at me again. Despite my suspicion, I know I won’t be able to get out of here on my own. I accept the offered hand and let her help me sit up, hating myself for the thrill I feel at even the smallest touch of her skin. Once upright, a wave of dizziness washes over me and I have to drop my head into my hands. A moment later, a water bottle is held out in front of me.
With infinite slowness, I raise my head to look at her rather than take the water. Big green eyes look back at me, and for a moment, I see Amelia. Not the psychotic girl Jane turned her into. She smiles and waves the water bottle at me again. I reach my hand out to take it, still eyeing her suspiciously.
When my fingers touch the condensation on the bottle, I begin to tremble and my mouth suddenly feels parched. I realize it’s probably been over a day since I’ve drunk anything. Without further delay, I bring the bottle up to my mouth and greedily drink it down, heedless of the water falling down my chest.
I gasp as I finish the last drop and look at Teddy who's watching me with hungry eyes. My brow knits in a frown at her expression, pulling down further when she begins to giggle. My mouth suddenly feels parched again and my vision begins to blur again.
“Wha—”
“I told you, Branson,” she says, leaning forward to whisper even as I feel myself being pulled under by whatever she put in the water, “You are exactly like me, and I can’t wait to prove it.”
