22
MARGARET
I DON’T KNOW what time it is. It could be two AM, or it could be noon; the basement is so dark it’s impossible to tell. I’ve been in and out for hours. My body keeps giving in to the sleep, the only way it knows how to handle the abuse. With no nourishment, no sunlight, and no water, it’s going into a state of shock.
I can’t believe it, but as the thought hits, another round of nausea arrives, and I puke up whatever fluid is in my stomach. It’s not much, and the result is mostly gagging.
“It’s okay, Margaret. I’m almost there, I swear,” Ford says, his voice ragged. He’s been trying to escape from his chains for hours. I don’t think he’s slept, and I wonder how his body is putting up with this. He hasn’t puked once. It’s not fair.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. It’s fading as fast as my body. Everything is fading.
“Hurting myself is worth us getting out of here. No one knows where we are, so no one is coming.” He says the words that have been circling my head the whole time. I haven’t been able to speak them out loud for fear of them being out in the world and thus becoming true.
I don’t reply; I don’t have the energy. With Ford’s grunting in the background, I tell myself to think of happy things. I recall my first date with Liam, and a smile crosses my face. I think it does, anyway—it’s hard to tell what’s working anymore.
Whether or not my face can express it, Liam is a good, happy thought, Liam and the future we briefly discussed. After the mission, after this is over, we can be happy and normal. We can stay in one city or we can travel.
We can do whatever we want. We just have to survive this first.
I wonder where he is. Does he know I’m trapped yet again? Is he sad? Is he still tracking Anton? Does he care that I’m gone?
God, my thoughts are on repeat.
This is getting so old, and I almost wish for someone to come down here and acknowledge us. It feels as if we’ve been left for dead.
Maybe we have.
Maybe that’s their game, and the longer we wait, the longer we suffer. It’s a good strategy, making your prisoners suffer from anticipation.
I fully believe Ford thinks he’s getting us out of here. I know he thinks that, but I’m not so sure. I barely escaped with my life last time, and that was because Liam showed up like the hero he is and pretty much saved me.
I have no feeling left in my arms. Tears leak from my eyes, but I don’t make a sound. I can’t feel anymore.
Everything is numb.
Everything is black.