Panda lifts me bridal style down the stairs yet again, which is more than a little uncomfortable considering my injuries and that my hands are behind my back, but I don’t complain. I just use the pain as a reminder of who I am, that I can survive this. That I’ve survived worse.
This is not the end of my story.
I wince as he takes the last step down onto the concrete, jolting me, and he frowns down at me. “What’s wrong?”
“My shoulder jarred, it’s okay. My wrists are a little raw too. I hurt all over.” I keep my eyes down, not looking at him as he places me on my feet.
He pauses, like he’s trying to make a decision, but then walks me back over to the cot I’ve been tied to the last few days. It’s better than the table I was on, so I’m not about to complain, but also, I am sick to fucking death of being bound.
“Let me redress your wounds. We don’t want them getting infected. I think the deprogramming is working. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, but it’s for your own good. Just a little more and I think I’ll have you back. My little phoenix.” My heart races at the thought of going through that again. I barely survived it the first time.
“You don’t have to hurt me again. Or have to tie me back up. I won’t go anywhere. You’re just trying to help me, I see that now,” I whimper, and I sound fucking pathetic. I hate it, but it’s exactly what I was going for.
“I don’t know…” he trails off, turning me back to face him. “You could be trying to trick me.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say softly, glancing up to meet his gaze before looking back down. “You’re my friend. You’re trying to help me. Why would I trick you?”
He looks away, but then shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Okay.” I sigh and stay compliant as he binds my wrists back to the bed, though he leaves my ankles free, even if they’re still tied together. I get to actually sit up, so I’m not going to complain too loudly. It’s a step in the right direction.
He moves back to the IV bag and my heart races. I really do hate fucking needles. “Can I have something to eat though? Maybe a drink? I don’t like needles. You know that.”
He glances at the crate of water bottles in the corner of the room, and I swear my mouth waters. I never thought I’d miss water, but I’d do a lot right now to get my hands on one of those bottles. My stomach grumbles so loudly at the thought of food that it almost startles me. I’ve only eaten a cheese sandwich and a handful of pretzels twice since being here. It’s a wonder I’m not so light-headed that I can’t stand. I guess that's the one upside of the IV.
“Please, P,” I whimper, one arm clutching at my stomach as much as I can with these stupid fucking cuffs. I’m just glad he seems to be at least hesitating, which means he wants to believe that I’m coming around. He’s had that projector flickering images at me for too long at this point. I just close my eyes when he leaves, because some of that shit is horrific.
“Yeah okay, we can do that. I’ll give you some painkillers too, just to help.” He pushes the IV stand back into the corner, and I let out a deep sigh of relief. One win. I’ll take it and clutch onto it with everything I have, because maybe, just maybe, I can do this. I can get myself out of here, and find out what happened to the others.
God, I hope they’re okay.
They have to be.
I won’t accept anything else.
P brings me a bottle of water and opens it before passing it to me, along with a couple of pills. I try to sip it down, knowing that if I chug it, I’ll probably be sick. The urge to slam it down is almost too strong to resist though. He watches me closely as I swallow the pills and drink the water down, letting me take a few mouthfuls before taking the bottle away. I swear I could scream as he does, but instead I paste a thankful smile onto my face. One advantage to growing up how I did: faking a smile is something I learned how to do real early on.
He seems to accept it and heads back toward the stairs. “I’ll go make you a sandwich and then we can talk some more if you like?”
I widen my smile and nod. “That’ll be nice.”
My eagerness makes him smile and I do a mental fist pump that he seems to believe me. He disappears up the stairs, and I adjust myself to a more comfortable position. Testing the wrist cuffs now that I’m sitting. I still can’t bring my hands together, but it’s a damn sight closer than it was before.
You can do this, Octavia. Just a few more steps and he’ll free you.
I take a deep breath, trying to refocus and steel myself to what I have to do. I don’t want to kill Panda, but if I have to do it to get free then it becomes do or die. I don’t think he’d want to kill me, but if he’s backed into a corner… he’s still a Knight.
I guess this makes me more my father’s daughter than I realized, but right now, I don’t give a fuck. The burning anger inside of me is all that keeps me focused. Focused on surviving. I’ll deal with everything else when I’m free from here.
If I find out this was the Knights’ doing, I’ll do whatever I can to burn their entire empire to the ground. Everything I know about them tells me they’re rotten to the very core. I’m not one for killing everyone in my path, but if my guys are hurt—if the Knights are responsible—I already know that the darkest parts of who I am will come to the surface, and the part of me that gives a fuck is going to disappear.
Panda reappears with a sandwich on a paper plate. I never thought a slice of cheese between two plain slices of white bread would be so appealing, but here we are. I never thought I’d be tied to a bed in a creepy basement and tortured by one of my closest friends either.
He holds the plate out toward me before seeming to realize that, bound as I am, I’m not going to be able to eat. “Sorry,” he says with a shrug before picking up the sandwich and offering me a bite. I take a small one, not wanting to torture my stomach with too much food.
He holds the sandwich until I’m done, then offers me the bottle of water again. “I need to go out for a little bit, but I have the cameras and security up, so you’ll be fine here till I get back.”
“Where are you going?”