Before she can react I shut the door, slowly resetting the latch until the safe’s lock clicks shut. Listening to her pants and whines, I flip a switch on the wall, activating a motor built into the room’s ceiling. The chains holding the safe begin descending, allowing the locker to sink into the floor. Quinn shrieks as she realizes what’s happening. She doesn’t stop, even after the box reaches the bottom.
She’s proven herself to be so strong up until now, but no one has ever come out of the locker unscathed. I doubt she’ll be the first.
Chapter 16
It’s almost over. It’s almost over.
That’s the lie I tell myself every second that goes by. Eventually I’ll be right.
When Reed brought me to the locker room, I saw that the box hung from the ceiling, but I didn’t process this fact until I started descending.
I try laughing about the situation:Does he really have to lower me into an inescapable hole? Is he worried I’ll get out of this locked box while completely restrained?
I try looking at the bright side:At least in here I can get some peace and quiet. At least I don’t have to do any damn sewing. At least it’s warm in here.
The room outside had been utterly freezing, and now I think I understand why: my body heat is trapped in this box, balancing things out. I suppose they don’t want me passing out — at least not from being too hot or cold.
Would Reed really leave me in here long enough for dehydration to become a concern? What about hunger? Passing endless hours in darkness and silence is hard enough without a growling stomach.
Every new issue is another I have to force myself to ignore. There’s nothing I can do about anything, and worrying won’t help. Turning my neck to reposition, flexing my fingers and leaning against one side of the box or the other — that’s all I’ve got to work with.
Of course, I attempt to work my way free: I start by reaching for the belt buckles, hoping one will be within reach, but Reed was too careful. I can’t get my fingers anywhere near close enough to work one loose. Once I put that idea to bed, I try wriggling and shuffling like a fly caught in a spider web, hoping I could simply dislodge the straps. I’m sweating so much, for a while I really thought I might slip free, but they’re far too tight.
Not that it matters. Even if I did get my arms and legs free, I doubt there’s a handy knob I could turn to open this safe from the inside. I have no choice but to accept the obvious: I’m not going anywhere.
Giving up on escaping has one benefit: every movement has caused the plug in my ass to shift, but if I keep still, I can avoid exacerbating the throb in my backside.
Reed must have been messing with me when he cautioned me not to let it fall out — it’s just as stuck in my ass as I am in this box. It hurt back when Reed first put it in, but then I grew used to the uncomfortable fullness. I might even be able to enjoy it if I could take it out when I’ve had enough.
In fact, more than once I imagine Reed showing up and taking me to bed. With him, I don’t mind the hard straps binding my body — they feel like extensions of his hands, like he’s holding me everywhere at once. He enjoys my plight, watching me writhe, desperate for his touch. He frees me after a while, but leaves in the plug. Then he bends me over a table and fucks me hard, filling me up with his enormous rod. I feel it against the plug and scream blissfully…
Please, stop.
I can’t reach my pussy. The thought of blowing off some steam occurs to me, but there’s definitely no chance of that happening. Daydreaming about hot, kinky sex not only feels wrong after the day I’ve had, it’s just going to get me worked up and frustrated.
Meanwhile, the soreness in my ass keeps growing, and it’ll likely be several more hours before I get any relief. By then, I’ll be lucky if I haven’t completely lost my mind.
Instead of dwelling on my plight, I try to imagine what Reed’s doing right now. Is he speaking with Jefferson, trying to talk him down from getting his revenge today? Is he standing by as Byron phones Prescott with the news of Quinn’s latest ill-advised act of defiance? He could be in the workshop, patrolling the women as they sew, pretending nothing’s amiss.
They know better, of course. Seeing my seat empty tells them I’ve gotten into trouble, and they’re probably glad. That’s the best case scenario. For all I know, the guards might have beaten each and every one of them, reminding them that infractions will not be tolerated whatsoever.
If that’s what the guards did, I will straight up fucking murder them. I mean it.
Stay positive, Quinn.
Sometimes I hear footsteps and think someone’s coming. I could be hallucinating, but that’s just one more thing I’m not going to let bother me. When I hear whatever it is, I can’t help getting my hopes up that this is the time Reed’s come for me. So far, the sound has always passed by without stopping. Do the guards patrol the building at all times, or do they stay with the inmates, where they’re needed? Walker’s staff isn’t that large. I doubt they could spare anyone during working hours.
I start running through ideas of how an escape could go down. They all start with Reed letting me or someone else loose at the right time. Maybe he slips me a pair of scissors and unlocks my cuffs, and then he and I proceed to cut Corbin and Edwin’s throats. That would leave Hunter and possibly Byron, if he’s present. The odds aren’t bad. But what if Reed could spring me loose at night? We could take out the others quietly, without raising suspicion. If that’s not a possibility, maybe Reed could extract my implant, then simply smuggle me out of Walker. We could go to the media with what we know, expose Prescott’s entire operation…
However, if I’m being serious about planning my escape, I need to consider the possibility that Reed will not be on my side. Though I have feelings for him, and I think he wants to help me, I can’t count on him completely — especially if his feelings for me cause him to lose Prescott and Byron’s trust. There could come a time where he’s not part of the equation. That means I’ll need some other ally or allies: the other women. As Reed said, I’ve got to figure out how to get them on my side.
Have they found out about what I did to Jefferson? If so, maybe that’ll help. If he’s done to them what he tried to do to me, they must hate him.
It’s really too bad I didn’t kill that fucker.
One way or another, I’ll reach them. Even if I have to kill Jefferson, Byron and Prescott myself.
The thought makes me smile for quite a while, long enough for me to shut my eyes and doze off a little. I can’t really sleep, but I get close.