Anya follows me over to the container and we drop our mats inside, then I close it back up. I can hear her stomach growling and I know she is expecting food. Maybe even coffee. Which makes me internally chuckle. But bringing her to the Rock with me wasn’t in the plan and even though we have food, when we left here last year, we only rationed enough for me when I came back. So there isn’t enough food to feed two people for the length of time that we will be here.
So. One meal a day and that’s still pushing it.
I go over to the jump ropes, pick them up, and then hold one out for her.
She doesn’t take it.
I drop it at her feet and shrug. She will skip rope today. She will do a lot more than that too if she wants to eat tonight. But she can pretend she won’t for a little while, if that makes her happy.
I start skipping. My ribs are still screaming and they will continue to do that for at least a month. But it is what it is. A few broken ribs aren’t enough to interrupt my training schedule. I casually make my way down the length of the platform, then back again.
Anya has gotten herself a drink of water and she’s dragging her finger over her teeth. I stop skipping and stare at her, shaking my head a little.
She doesn’t get it. And I suddenly understand that she might have the willpower to withstand my rules and decide I need to make a point here in the interest of saving time.
So I walk over, take the cup of water out of her hand, dump it out so it splashes up her legs, drop the cup on the ground, and point to her jump rope.
Her expression never changes.
And… we’re back. Petulant Anya has decided she is too tired to jump rope, or she is too sore to jump rope, or she is too hungry to jump rope, or maybe she is just too fucking good to jump rope.
She picks up the cup, fills it with water, walks back over to me, brings it to her lips.
I take the cup, dump it out, throw it on the ground, and point to her jump rope.
She picks up the cup, fills it with water, walks back over to me and throws it in my face.
Cold water hits me in the eyes and runs down my chest. I look at it. Then back up at her. She is still defiant. No expression. Just a flat line of a mouth.
I grab her arm. Hard. Hard enough to make it blanch. She tries to pull away, but there is no hope of that. Her arm is a spindly thing and my hand is so large in comparison, I almost completely encircle it. If she wants me to leave fingerprints on her skin, I will. And there’s no one here to stop me.
I pick up her rope with my other hand and shove it at her.
She refuses to take it.
You get one chance with me. If I were talking, I’m sure this little rebellion of hers could be squashed with one or two harsh threats, but I’m not talking, and she never talks, so the easy way isn’t an option.
I drag her over to the stairs. She resists, of course. But now I’m fucking pissed.
I drag her down one level, throw her on the ground, and then shut the squeaky chain-link gate and clamp the combination lock closed on the latch.
She just looks at me from the floor. Unmoving. Disbelieving.
I sign at her, my hands and fingers moving quickly. Believe it, princess. This is happening. And I’m only going to do this once. Do it again, and you will go in the ocean.
She doesn’t understand the signs. But she gets it. Because she stands up, rushes over to the gate, wraps her fingers around the chain link, and rattles it.
I turn my back.
One chance. That’s all you get with me. I’m not fucking around.
I leave her there, climb back up the stairs, and start my workout.
And you know what the nice thing about her is? She’s silent.
There is no screaming, there is no kicking, there are no hysterical threats.
She is easy to forget.
So that’s what I do.
I forget her.
CHAPTER NINE - ANYA
All night those birds bothered me. They nipped me with their long, thick beaks, they flapped their wings at me, they stretched their necks and threatened me, eye to eye, until I rolled over, covered my head with my hands, and just didn’t move until morning.
I know how this sounds. Birds are out to get me. I am insane.
But these aren’t just any birds, they are one meter tall and four meters wide when they open their wings. And when they decided that they didn’t appreciate the fact that I was sleeping in the middle of their nesting grounds, they held it against me.