By the time I’ve come down from the high of coming, I’m a goopy mess, and Quinton makes quick work of wrapping me in a blanket, swaddling me like a baby, before placing me on the floor next to the bed. My head hits the pillow, and I’m out almost immediately.
* * *
I wake up disoriented.So much so that it takes me a moment to realize where the loud banging sound is coming from. I fight my way out of the blanket that is tightly wrapped around my naked body and look around the room. The loud banging increases, and I know it’s coming from my door.
My first thought is that this can only be Quinton, but he has a key card, so he wouldn’t knock.
“Hold on,” I croak, getting up, forcing my stiff limbs to move.
As soon as I’m standing, the room starts spinning, and I have to put my hand against the wall to steady myself.
There is another knock on the door, and it’s like the sound has a direct line to my brain, making a rattle inside my skull.
“Jesus, hold on. I’m coming!” Dropping the blanket around me completely, I make quick work of finding my clothes and getting dressed. I pull the door open ready to cuss out whoever’s interrupting my sleep, just to come to a screeching halt when I see the janitor on the other side, a brand new mattress propped up next to him.
“I’m supposed to drop this off,” he says before sliding the mattress into my room. It’s only halfway in when he turns around and walks off, leaving me standing there dumbfounded.
Coming back to my senses, I pull the heavy thing inside and close the door with my foot. It takes all my strength to push it up on the bed and let it settle on the bed rails. I’m out of breath, and another wave of dizziness comes over me. I don’t know why I’m so freaking weak until my stomach growls, reminding me of the lack of nutrition in my life. I guess the food deficiency is finally catching up with me.
Checking the time, I play with the idea of walking to the cafeteria and seeing if they have anything I can eat, but even that seems like such a waste of energy. All I wanna do is lie down and go back to sleep. Maybe I still have some leftovers that will tide me over.
Still half asleep, I start scouring my room for anything, for any snack that I possibly could have forgotten about. Inwardly, I scream eureka when I find a half-eaten wrapped-up cheese sandwich. I try to remember when I picked it up and how old it is. But the thought evaporates when I unwrap it, and the scent of rotten food greets me.
Immediately, my stomach turns from hungry to sick. Gagging, I slap my hand in front of my mouth and run into the bathroom. I make it to the toilet just in time to start hurling and throw up every tiny thing I got to eat yesterday, which isn’t much. Still, I keep heaving until my throat hurts and my back muscles are sore. It feels like I’m throwing up for a good ten minutes, and all that’s coming out now is stomach acid.
Slumping next to the toilet, I catch my breath. When I feel like I can finally get up, I push to my feet but have to hold the sink a while just to be able to make it into my room. I down a bottle of water I had sitting next to my bed, then grab the blanket and pillow from the ground and climb onto my new mattress, curling up in the fetal position. I hope that this will pass quickly, and I can get something real to eat today.
Maybe I should have bargained for food instead of for safety from Matteo. Food… that will definitely be the next thing I ask for. If there even is a next time?
Then Quinton’s words from last night ring in my ear…“I can’t wait to claim this pussy, to mark it with my cum, and see its virgin blood on my cock.” He is already planning on doing this again, making deals with me for whatever fantasy he wants to play out. Next time, I’ll be better prepared. I’ll use his needs to my advantage, to fill my own.
Closing my eyes, I try my best to calm my stomach and go to sleep, at least for a little bit longer. But the constant nausea mixed with the aching pain of hunger makes it hard to find any rest.
For the next few hours, I fight a losing battle between sleep, hunger, and pain. A part of me knows I would feel better if I got something to eat and drink, but I can’t muster up the strength to get up and go to the cafeteria.
Suddenly, I start feeling really cold, even with a thick blanket wrapped around me, and I start shivering so hard my teeth clink together. The next thing I know, the cold is gone, replaced with a heat so strong flames are dancing over my skin. I kick the blanket off, and even with only wearing a thin shirt and leggings, I feel so hot. When I run my hands down my clothes, I notice they are soaked in sweat.
Fuck, I must have a fever. I try to get up, but my legs give out as soon as my feet touch the floor, and I crumple to the ground like I’m boneless. As I lie in a heap on the floor, the only solace I can find is that the cold concrete actually feels nice on my burning skin.
Not in a million years would I have thought I would ever wish for Quinton to waltz into my room unannounced, but I do now. I think he would take me to the doctor. After all, he can’t torment me if I’m dead, and right now, I sure as hell feel like I’m dying.