9
When I was eighteen, I had to get all my wisdom teeth taken out at once. It’s the only time I was put under general anesthesia. I remember the oddity of being put to sleep and then waking up the next instant, like no time at all had passed.
That is exactly how I feel right now.
I’m about to open my eyes when I hear Hunter and Ryker’s hushed voices on the other side of the room. I keep my eyes shut and concentrate on breathing evenly so they don’t suspect I’m awake yet.
“The longer we keep her here, the worse it’s going to get when it’s time to kill her. We need to end this, especially now with Derik going insane.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Derik wants. He better be glad he is still alive,” Ryker growls.
“Do you think I give two shits about Derik? I don’t. But we need him and I do care about the rest of us… you, me, Lincoln, Eli, and Delilah,” Hunter speaks softly. I store the name Delilah in the back of my mind for a later time. “We’re putting everyone at risk by keeping her alive. We both know we’re just elongating the inevitable.”
“Fine. Sunday.” Ryker sighs. “Give me to the end of the week, and I’ll do it Sunday night after she falls asleep.”
At once, I get the days in order. I’ve been here for one night. The transport happened yesterday–Wednesday, which means today is Thursday.
Three days… I’ve got three days left.
Until now, I thought I was okay with dying, but now that my life has a solid end date, I’m not sure anymore. I might have nothing to live for, but there are possibilities of the future.
I haven’t let myself dream of a happy and fulfilled life often, but a few times I imagined having a family of my own. Imagined building a new life.
Most important, I have unfinished business. The reason I wanted to become a cop in the first place. I swore to find him, make him pay, but I won’t be able to do that when I’m dead.
The profound urge to break free from this prison surges through me. A newfound vigor.
I need to find a way out of this, so I can finish what I’ve started.
I need to stay alive.
I need to fight.
The room quiets for a long time, and I almost fall back to sleep when the bed dips. My eyes flutter open and I’m greeted by Ryker’s handsome face.
“Hey, Sugar. How are you feeling?”
“Um…” I do a mental check of my body before I look at my hands. Both wrists are bandaged and my left hand is wrapped in a brace. My ring finger sticks out straight with a splint on either side. “Fine, I guess.”
The pain is minimal, probably due to whatever drug they’ve given me. I glance up to find Hunter has left the room. I didn’t even hear him leave. Maybe I dozed off again after all.
“I’m going to help you sit up so you can get something to eat.” Ryker slides an arm under my back and lifts me. The movement clarifies that more than my hand is battered. I groan in pain.
As I stretch my legs out, I notice a weird sensation between my thighs as well. Wetness clings to my skin and for a moment I think I’m on my period. I reach between my legs with my uninjured hand, but Ryker blocks me.
“It’s just ointment,” he explains. “Derick scratched you.”
“Oh,” I pull my hand back, forcing the image of Derick on top of me–violating me with his finger–from my mind. I replace it with Hunter and Ryker, tending to my unconscious self with care.
That should appall me, but knowing they tended to my injuries soothes me. Which is mind boggling since I know they’re planning on killing me in my sleep.
Everything they do is a contradiction, and everything I feel is a paradox. Even knowing that Ryker is planning on taking my life in three days to come, I feel safe with him at this moment. I feel taken care of in the most peculiar way.
There must be something fundamentally wrong with me.
Ryker places a pillow on my lap and sets a bowl of soup on top. He hands me a spoon and I eat. I’m glad it’s chicken noodle soup, because honestly, I don’t know if I could stomach anything else right now.
“Why did you want to become a cop so badly?” he asks when I’m halfway done with my soup.