Chapter 17
A sense of lifting rouses me from a state so deep and dark, I can’t even fathom how much time has gone by. They could say it’s been a week, and I’ll believe it. Every part of my body aches, so sore I try not to move at all. I groan, feeling my feet, arms, jaw and ass all cry out together in pure agony.
I’ve languished in a state of semi-consciousness for hours and hours. My stomach rumbles. If only I could sleep, maybe I’d have passed some of the time easily, but I’m in too much discomfort. For all the awful conditions of this prison, it occurs to me that we still sleep on mattresses — otherwise, maybe I’d be accustomed to resting in such harsh circumstances.
When I finally open my eyes, the box has nearly risen to the top. Blinking clears my vision but not my drowsiness. Through the slats in the door, I can see Reed waiting patiently as the box stops. As soon as he opens it I pitch over, unable to stand another second. He catches me and immediately sets to work freeing me, starting with the gag in my mouth. My moans grow to screams as he loosens the belts and my body feels like it’s coming back to life. White imprints across my skin indicate where the straps squeezed my limbs for… I wouldn’t even want to guess.
“How… long…”
Speaking hurts, each word raking fire in my throat.
“Almost a day,” Reed whispers. “Did you hear the one about George Washington’s pet iguana?”
Okay, I’ve definitely lost my mind. “What?”
Without warning, Reed reaches behind me and pulls the plug out of my ass. He goes slow enough that the toy slides smoothly, but fast enough so it’s over quickly. I howl at the fresh pain, but then I feel relief, glad to have the phallus out at long last.
“Had to rip off the bandage,” he says, setting the plug aside. “Thought a distraction might help.”
“Thanks,” I grumble.
Reed tries setting me down, but my legs crumple like matchsticks, so he picks me up instead. Cradling me in his arms, he walks us out, and I sigh happily, glad to be finished with that room. I can see why the locker is such an effective punishment — just an hour or two would be enough to make anyone succumb to despair. If one didn’t have much hope when they went in, they’re not going to have any coming out. Thankfully, I had powerful motivators keeping me going: revenge and Reed.
Even though my body’s still sore, and his grip hurts, I enjoy being in his embrace. He’s so strong, his arms so thick with muscle, I feel like he could effortlessly hold me like this forever. The gentle rhythm of his pace rocks me gently, lulling me into unconsciousness.
I wake as Reed sets me down. We’re in my prison cell, and I’m on the cot. There’s a fold-out tray table in front of me with a bowl, a glass of water, a gallon jar of milk and a family-sized box of Corn Flakes. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life, though I can’t imagine having to move. To my relief, Reed holds the glass up so I can drink, being careful not to give me too much too quickly. When I’ve finished, he pours the cereal and milk, then sits me up so he can spoon feed me.
We don’t speak. I hold back any sense of pleasure or satisfaction from eating. Though I can’t hear anyone else stirring, some of the women have to be awake and listening. Likewise, the other guards are definitely watching us on the security camera. Is Jefferson still here, or has he crawled back to whatever pit he came from?
“Can you eat more?” Reed asks when I finish the bowl. “You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.”
I nod, wanting to ask what he means. Am I going back to work sewing, or is Reed going to make good on Byron’s threat?
After polishing off my third bowl, some strength returns to my muscles. I contemplate making a break from my cell, just to show our observers that I’ll fight at every opportunity, no matter what, but attempting to stand makes the world whirl like a top.
“Unbelievable,” Reed mutters, pushing me down onto the cot and spreading my limbs. “I can’t take my eyes off you for two fucking seconds.” He pulls four pairs of handcuffs from his pocket. He cuffs my wrist, then fastens the other end to a bar on the underside of my cot. In less than a minute, he binds my other arm and both legs, leaving me once again restrained. I think my relative freedom lasted less than fifteen minutes. Then again, I doubt I could move much yet even if I wasn’t bound.
Reed tests my cuffs to make sure they’re secure, then picks up the tray. He leaves without another word, not even bothering to shut the door to my prison cell. I suppose in my current state there’s not much need.
I watch him go, listening for his footsteps to fade, then shut my eyes. Too exhausted to even think, I pass out within seconds.
—
Something stings my face badly, a hard slap that wakes me from a deep sleep. I expected to be in pain the following morning, considering all the soreness still in my body, but not this: Jacqueline and Amber stand over me, still in my cell. When I turn, I see all the other women are outside watching. Fueled by impotent rage, they look ready to erupt.
“Morning, sunshine,” Jacqueline taunts, balling a fist. “You feeling okay? We heard you went to the locker.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “I’ll be fi-”
Jacqueline interrupts me with another slap.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, trying not to struggle against my cuffs. Did Reed set this whole thing up, leaving me restrained and my cell’s door wide open? I have to assume so. This is what Byron warned me would happen, and I’m sure it’s just the beginning.
“While you were safe and secure in a box, Byron and the judge spent the day giving us hell,” Jacqueline explains. She turns around and lowers her pants just enough to show me her ass, which is covered in bruises. At the same time, Amber and all the other inmates turn and do the same, showing that each and every one of them received the same punishment.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “But I had no choice. We have to fight them. We have to-”
Slapping me again, Jacqueline screams, “Shut up, you selfish cunt!”