My bladder screams for release and my stomach growls for a good meal, though I sure as fuck won’t be relying on the DeAngelis brothers for that. I bet they’re hoping that I’ll just piss myself so they can come in here and humiliate me a little bit more. Though, watching grown adults pissing themselves isn’t exactly something new to them. In their line of work, they literally see it all.
My gaze shifts around the room, desperately trying to keep my mind off … everything. My body aches, my bladder hates me, and my heart is overwhelmed with grief that Marcus didn’t make it, but it’s not something I can allow myself to dwell on right now. I have to focus on myself, focus on surviving.
I haven’t taken much notice of the room that I’m in. There’s been a lot going on, and every time I think that I’m going to have a moment to myself to finally breathe, one of the brothers walks back in to fuck with my head. It takes me only a minute to realize that I’ve been in this room before. One of those first few days after the brothers had taken me. I sat in here, laid back on this very surgical bed and spread my legs for a doctor doing a thorough physical examination. He inserted a birth control rod into my arm … or at least I think it’s a birth control rod. One can never be too sure when it comes to the DeAngelis brothers. There’s also a tracking device inserted in there somewhere, though my guess is that the two are somehow connected.
The doctor had died only moments after our appointment, and that’s partially because of my big mouth. He tried to help me. He warned me about what happened to Felicity and that one move cost him his life. The brothers have sworn to me that the guy really did deserve it, that he wasn’t a good man and that his babies were better off without him, but what do they know? It’s not like they have a good father figure to compare him to.
I’ve made it a personal mission not to think about the appointment I shared with the doctor. Actually, a lot of the bullshit I’ve experienced in this castle has been pushed to the back of my mind. None of it has really been good apart from a few occasions involving roofs, chains, and narcotics shoved up my ass. But here I find myself thinking back to that moment with the doctor. He gave me the full rundown of the contraceptive he was putting into my arm, and at the end, he was kind enough to leave me a bag full of first aid supplies in case I found myself in a shitty situation, and hell, if this ain’t a shitty situation then I don’t know what is.
If I could somehow get over there, reach up to the high cupboard he left the bag in, then I’d be able to clean myself up. Hopefully there are some strong painkillers in there to ease the ache that’s completely overtaken my body. I’d give anything for a morphine smoothie, just to be able to lay back on this fucked-up little surgical table for ten minutes without feeling the gut-wrenching pain that’s overloaded my body for the past twenty-four hours.
My eyes rest on the high cupboard, devastation heavy in my chest. Getting from here to there is so much harder than it ought to be. My body has reached exhaustion, and here I am, willing it to keep going, to keep fighting, to find relief knowing that if I were to get caught, I’d pay for it with my life.
The straps have been left loose, but they’re still too tight to easily slip out of. If I had the energy, I could wriggle free, but at what cost? The stitches deep inside my stomach are bound to tear and the rest of the cuts and bruises covering my body are going to scream until I stop moving. Not to mention, the only way out of this is by sliding to the bottom of the table and dropping to the ground. After getting thrown around in the car wreck and having Roman drag me through the woods, my body isn’t going to forgive me for allowing further torture.
But what choice do I have? Staying here and suffering like one of their many victims isn’t something I am capable of doing. Sure, I may run at every chance I get, but running means I’m also fighting. Hell, they didn’t want to keep me around because of my ‘yes boss’ attitude. They like my fiery personality, they like when I fight them at every turn, and they sure as fuck love it when I tell them no … especially Marcus.