Chapter 15
Chelsea
Her eyes opened today.Shoving my fist into my mouth, I stifle the scream of excitement. They may have only opened for a moment then closed again, but it’s progress. She doesn’t seem to be in a lot of pain, so maybe I’m not messing things up by weaning her faster.
Closing my eyes and leveling my breathing, I wait as my jailer trumps through the door, the thud of his heavy boots bringing a Pavlovian urge to throw up on him. Bile simmers in the back of my throat as he yanks the blanket off and tosses it to the side.
Since I’ve been here, I’ve not been given any clothes. More than likely, it would impede what they had planned for me, day after day, hour after hour. The times of reprieve are so slight they almost don’t register. It feels like fingers are in me at all hours of the day. Even when I sleep, I can feel the phantom jerks and tugs, feel the splash of cum against my skin. Every night, I wake up, trembling fingers seeking out the filth and finding none.
In a way, I envy Jane Doe. She seems blissfully unaware of what’s happening to her. Whatever drugs they give her keep her barely lucid - not that I’ve seen them actually doing anything to her. What did she have to do to keep them from taking liberties with her when I’m sure not even puking would get them to stop.
My skin doesn’t even feel like my own anymore. It’s an alien covering inhabiting someone else. This man is grabbing another person by the back of the neck and forcing pills down her throat.
Hiding them away as I always do, I wait for him to open my mouth and peer inside. My Only hope is that my breath is enough to knock him out so I can pull Jane Doe with me and make our escape. As he lays me back down, I turn and deposit the pills into the folds of the pillowcase just to get them out of my mouth before they cause any ill effects. The only thing keeping me alive is my lucidity.
The second steps sound and I know it’s time for my shower. As they lift me up, they turn away from the space and head out the door. Fear clenches my insides as I pretend to be fluid in their arms. For countless days, they haven’t varied from their routine. What’s so special about today?
Through droopy lids, I take in the bright, white, clinical space. A table is in the middle, flooded by an overhead light. Various implements lie on a metal, rolling table, similar to OR scenes on tv. Spray nozzles hanging over the table complete the look. I stifle the shudder of revulsion as they drag me even closer.
Once they lift me onto the cold surface, metal bands slide around my wrists and ankles, holding me in place. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. Lack of good food and physical activity has left me weak and basically useless. I’m not sure what damage I could even inflict at this point.
I lie there with my eyes closed, listening for any sound that could alert me to what’s going to happen. I don’t hear much - just a constant heavy breathing.
“I know you can hear me.”
I freeze, hoping he isn’t talking to me. Maybe it’s a test?
“Open your eyes right now, or we slice your roommate’s throat.”
Fuck. What do I do? I don’t even know this woman. If this is a test, am I willing to take more pain just to save her? What limited memories remain lucid in my mind flash through my brain in a cheesy montage. As much as we hated each other, I had no doubt the other girls in the university would have stood up for me. We’d hate each other the next day, but they wouldn’t let me die either.
I crack one eye open, then the other. A pair of rich, brown eyes stare back, their depths devoid of all humanity. As he stares at me, I become aware of a steady plinking sound next to me. I don’t dare turn to look at what it is.
After a moment or two of silence, he picks up whatever it is and holds it in between our line of sight. The small pill that’s now as familiar to me as my own name sits in the space between us. Dread coils through my stomach, making me like lead against the table.
“You had us fooled. I never imagined someone like you could endure all that discomfort. Grigori must have trained you well. That or fucked you so hard on a constant basis that you’re numb from the cunt down.”
At just the mention of his name, my heart goes into overdrive. How can I still have feelings for him when he obviously doesn't care about me? It doesn't stop my heart from aching any more than it did the first several days when he never showed up for me. Maybe one day I'll get over him. I finally drove Professor Richards from my heart and body; I can do the same for Master Grigori.
"Before you ask, we've re-upped the dosage of Sleeping Beauty. Your new friend isn't going to be any help to you."
Of course. Why did I think I could actually get away with any of this? This isn't like the university where you can skirt the rules, and no one would ever know, and if they did, they'd turn the other cheek. No. This is real fucking life with real fucking consequences. The same rules don't apply. Leaning down, the man brushes his lips against my ear, the strong smell of tobacco assaulting my nose.
"Faking or not, by now, you're probably weak as a kitten. I have no fear of you running away or making more mischief. However, since I know you can move of your own volition, I've strapped you down to keep you from injuring yourself during preparations."
What the fuck are they going to do to me now? I know he already knows I've been faking it, but somehow, the idea of breaking this spell, of confirming everything he's said, feels dangerous and just wrong.
"If I were you, I'd keep pretending. I'd hate for you to have an overdose from someone making you take all of these pills."
He slides them off the table, the scraping sound skittering across my spine, making my jaw ache. As another set of footsteps echo through the room, I hold myself limp like I've always done, praying I can still keep up this charade. The clangs of metallic things hitting other objects set my nerves on edge. I want so desperately to flinch, to give physical action to my mental state, but I can't - not when he's not so subtly threatened me.
Warm water and the smell of oranges overwhelms my senses. I glance up at the ceiling, keeping my gaze unfocused, as I watch some nameless man take the hose from overhead and spray it over my body. Real, honest-to-god hot water. My muscles start to relax under the pulsing spray as some of the cold seeps out of me. I want to cry it feels so good. Until this moment, I never realized how much I missed these basic human necessities. I took every hot shower for granted. Never again.
As the citrus notes fill my lungs, I start to feel more human, more able to take on these men holding me captive. I have to be smart about it, though. It's not just me anymore - I have to rescue Jane Doe and get her out of this horrible place. Strong fingers rub my scalp in efficient circles, and I have to bite back the moan that threatens to escape. He runs his fingers through my hair, snagging on every tangle, but I don't mind. It feels like heaven to just be clean again.
The table splits between my legs, spreading me out completely. Here we go again. Now is when they'll assault me. I knew this bath was too good to be true. Fingers slide across my mound, but instead of delving in, they spread me open and apply a cold gel to my lips. Moments later, what feels like a razor glides against my skin, rasping the delicate flesh. It doesn't feel at all like the cutthroat razor Master Grigori used. Instead, it stutters against the skin, not quite nicking me but not gliding quite as smooth.
He shaves me completely, following behind each stroke with a warm cloth. After, the hose gets directed down there to rinse away any hair. The pounding spray hits my clit, and a ghost of arousal tingles through me. I hold onto that feeling, desperate to make it stronger, to feel something than the wretched agony cutting into my heart and mind. Before I can chase that feeling, the spray is pulled away, and I'm back to numb emptiness.
Letting my mind drift, I ignore them as they primp me. It means nothing. I'm probably getting ready to meet my new master. If that's the case, I should rest now to plot how I'll escape later. There's also the matter of Jane Doe. What am I going to do with her?