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“I’m absolutely not pissing in front of you, you fucking freak,” I growl, snatching the cup away as soon as it touches my hand.
“No, of course not. I’m not a barbarian. The rest of Luka’s associates, I’m not so sure. You might want to tread lightly with me. I might be the last friendly face you see for a while,” he replies, temporarily breaking away from his role of ambivalence.
“So, where am I supposed to do it then?” I ask, losing patience as he continues to string me along in sequences of vague warnings.
“There’s a small half-bath down the hall. I’ll lead you to it and stand outside the door,” he replies, returning to his stony, unbothered tone.
I sigh, trying my best to control my shaking as I come to terms with how this is all going to play out. “Fine, I’ll give a sample then.”
He nods and motions for me to follow him down the hall after he’s uncuffed me from the bed. I feel like cattle, like my only purpose on this earth is to be commodified and led around by men until my untimely death.
Why are they testing me for pregnancy?
Do theywantme to be pregnant?
I shudder internally at the thought.
Before we leave the room, the doctor pulls a generic digital pregnancy test out of a drawer near the door. “When you’re done giving the sample, place the test strip-first inside the cup. I’ll need to verify that you produced a sample and that the test hasn’t been tampered with in any way,” he insists.
My original plan was to fake out the test by dipping it in toilet water, but it looks like that isn’t going to work. I don’t want these people to have any access to me or my body, but it appears to me that they’ve done their research. It’s not unlikely that they’ve run into issues with stubborn women before.
How many women came before me?
Did any of them manage to escape?
When we walk down the hallway to the half-bath, I can hear soft moans coming from behind a few of the doors on the way down. At one point, I fear that I hear skin being slapped, but I’m jerked away from the source of the noise before I’m able to make any determinations.
We reach the bathroom, and the doctor uncuffs me. “Here’s the sample cup and test, don’t try anything. Just do what I say, and things will turn out much easier for you,” he warns.
I scoff at him and enter the bathroom. Immediately, I notice a small window right above the toilet that appears to have normal locks on it. I close the door and stop in my tracks.
A window? They’re letting me into a room with awindow?
At first, the only thing I can think is,goddamn, the sun is so bright in here.I don’t know how many days have passed since I was chained up in the basement, but all I want to do is soak in the light of the sun and stare out at the trees and grass. In a way, I feel like I’m seeing them for the first time again.
The second thought I have is obvious – I need to escape.
I question whether or not I should even try to take the pregnancy test, but I figure that it will help stall the doctor. To be honest, I’m worried that Icouldbe pregnant after so many unprotected encounters with Akim. I haven’t had the mental space to even consider the possibility, but when I try to place when my last period was, my mind is blank.
I awkwardly place the cup between my legs after I position myself, and as predictably as possible, I’m unable to make myself pee.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself. Bodily functions are never easy to command, but this couldn’t be more inconvenient.
“Can I have something to drink? I don’t remember the last time I had any water,” I shout through the door. To be fair, it’s a little ridiculous to ask somebody to give a urine sample when they’re critically dehydrated.
There’s a pause before the response, giving me false hope that the doctor left or isn’t paying attention. “I suppose so. I’ll go get something. I’m locking the door from the outside, so don’t try anything,” he warns, and I hear his footfalls grow distant.
When I know he’s gone, I pull my pants back up and frantically try to unlock the window above me. As if by a miracle, it opens with no issue.
When I look down, I can see that I’m on the third floor of the building, which puts me at risk of serious injury if I were to just jump from here. I’ll break my legs from the fall, and I doubt I have the upper body strength to drag myself to freedom.
I glance in both directions, peeking my head out to get a better idea of where I am relative to the street. There’s a tree that extends just close enough to the house to give me a potential escape route.
The only way I’d be able to make my way over to the tree branch is by stepping carefully along the concrete ledge that wraps around the estate, just wide enough for me to place one foot in front of the other. But that’s all. There’s absolutely no margin of error here.
Just as I’m about to try stepping onto the ledge, I hear the doctor knock on the door, causing me to panic and freeze.
“I brought you a bottle of water. I’m going to open the door and place it on the floor. Okay?” he asks.
