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I pull my knees against my chest tighter, burying my head into them, and think of BeLew and Morgan. I picture them in my mind together and safe. There’s no drug that could make me betray them, and I will myself to stay in that position until my muscles ache. They feel so real in my mind, sitting together at a dusty table, eating dried food on chipped plates.
It’s like I’m sitting next to them in my memory, as if I could reach out and touch them. I yearn to rustle BeLew’s messy blonde hair and hold my daughter. I can smell them, the mix of fresh soap and stale air. Every part of me focuses on the curve of their faces and the sounds of them eating until I drift away into nothing, my mouth still clamped shut, refusing to answer the questions that echo in the background of my mind.
“This will be your meal today,” the man holding the weapon tells me, tossing a small container in my direction.
My eyes fly open, and I jerk my head so fast I bang it against the back wall. My legs stretch out and pop, aching from the position I held myself in for… well, I don’t know how long. I must have fallen asleep thinking about my family, fighting off the effects of the drugged food. Another woman in a jumpsuit picks up the half-eaten tray, her sorrowful eyes looking over at me before they flick away.
When I stand, the remnants of whatever I ate yesterday linger, making my mind hazy. I stare at the container he’s tossed in my direction and stomp on it, the contents opening and spilling the oats over my shoes.
“If you’d like something more substantial,” the man points to the discarded food the woman holds outside my cell window. “Just ask.”
I tilt my head, fighting the urge to give him a quip back. He’s wearing a uniform similar to Alexander’s, a name printed across his chest. He’s slicked his hair back into a low ponytail, and he won’t look at me.
He stares down at my feet, refusing to meet the eyes of the woman he’s hurting. I get the impression he can’t stand to face me, and it’s not because I’m a filthy prisoner. There’s something in him that detests the things he does and the words he says.
“And tomorrow,” he continues. “There won’t be anything if you don’t answer some questions.” His final words are pleading, before he turns on his heel and leaves, his head hanging lower with each step.
There are many things they could do to get me to talk, but this tactic is lazy. One less mouth to feed until I wither away into nothing or beg for the tray of drug-infused nourishment. They could hurt my family, torture them in front of my eyes. Starvation is easy compared to that.
I’ve known hunger more than once. Biting hunger that makes your stomach cramp and your eyes water. I’ve gone days without eating, close to the point of passing out when I didn’t know how much we needed to save during the storms. There’s a point where you smell food from a distance. Your body is telling you to eat and all your senses pique, searching for anything to fill your stomach. When we scavenged neighbors’ houses, I tore into packages of dried ramen and ate it like a steak dinner.
This won’t break me.
I scoop the oats back into the container and set them in the room’s corner. My starvation begins today. Why put off the inevitable? There isn’t a scenario where I come out of this alive.
Alexander has done his best, and maybe he’s created some identity for me that aligns with how I ended up here. It’s not enough to save me, but maybe it will keep my family alive.
It’s better this way.
They’ll be safer this way.
Chapter Four
Dedication
Thelightsflickonand off several more times, and I still refuse to eat. The same questions sputter out from the speaker, and no matter how loud they scream, I ignore them. I’m struggling to sit up. My ear rests on the cold cement, and I raise my hand to cover my other one, drowning out the noise.
Why don’t they just shoot me?
My stomach cramps from hunger, a familiar feeling that I refuse to succumb to. There’s a dull ache in my limbs, and the wounds that were healing burn and sting. I’m not giving my body what it needs to get better, and maybe the beatings I’ve taken before I got here will speed up this process.
The speaker barks again, but it sounds like nonsense. I curl into myself, and instead of focusing on meditation or trying to see, I let my mind drift where I want. If this is the end, I choose what visions I let inside.
BeLew riding horses faster than my sister would allow. Their little bodies were so small, but still in control when they got into that saddle. Blonde-haired little men sitting atop a mare, smiling down at me to join them.
Sam sitting up on his elbows when he awoke in that cabin. The way he looked at me, how he adored me, even though I was exhausted and dirty. He thought I was beautiful, and I thought he had suffered a head wound.
Lori and I walking on the deck in the sunshine, the boys playing around us, both of us a little wary of each other at first. She saw me, the person I was trying to hide, and she protected me.
Luke in that fucking towel coming out of Lori’s cabin. I smile at that memory and how Lori’s infatuation with him turned into something so special and real.
The shaking of the earth under my feet and a man falling from a cliff, his limbs flailing through the air until he hits the water below.
I open my eyes, sitting up through my exhaustion and pain, shocked by the last vision. Laughter escapes, a strange reaction, but my emotions make little sense. There’s something new, something in the future. It may be a terrifying sight, but it’s there. A spark of hope forms in my chest, and I cling to it, trying to focus on the happy memories that brought me a new image.
The speaker barks another order.
“This isn’t a laughing matter, Rowan. Answer the questions.”
