Family is Forever (Sequel to Running on Insulin)

Chapter 4

Samantha POV

I didn't feel well. I'd thrown up at least once. I was nauseous, and my mouth was dry. I was so thirsty. Sometimes someone who wasn't Stanley came in, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. I could tell he was speaking English, but I couldn't make sense of his words.  I couldn't catch my breath and I didn't know if that was from Stanley punching me in the stomach and chest all the time, or something else. 

The person who wasn't Stanley wasn't mean, but he wasn't very nice, either. He never touched me, though at one point he put his hand on my forehead and I tried to move away from him. The only word I understood from what he said was 'fever'. I didn't know if I had one or if he was just checking for one. 

I spent as much time in the darkness inside me as I could. Stanley tried to pull me out so he could yell at me, but usually just wound up hitting me somewhere. Usually I couldn't feel it because I just stayed inside myself. The world didn't make any sense to me anymore. I didn't know how long I'd been here, and I didn't know what Stanley had planned. I did notice he'd undone everything that he'd tied me to the bed with, but I didn't have the energy to move anywhere anyway. Rolling onto my side or curling into a ball, trying to protect myself, was about as much as I could move. 

If Stanley fed me, I couldn't remember. He must be feeding me something sometimes, because I'd throw up eventually, and it wasn't just liquid.  

Sometimes, I came back just enough to see if I could hear anything. Were Tyler and Jenna looking for me? Did they miss me? Did they care? How would I know if they did? Stanley said they'd forgotten all about me and I wasn't even a story in the news. He said they probably didn't even bother reporting me missing, since now I was no longer a burden on them, since I'd cost so much in medical bills.  He told me they were probably happy and relieved they didn't have to take care of me anymore. 

I was back again, listening to see if Stanley or the other guy were talking. I could hear murmuring, which is why I came back. 

"Deitz, what the fuck man? This is not what we agreed on."

"Fuck off, Gillingham. She's my responsibility. Your job is to make sure we can get supplies to the house without anyone realizing there's anyone here."

"You're killing her, though. She really doesn't look good. What are you doing, man? I didn't sign up for killing a kid."

"Like I said, she's my responsibility. You just take care of yours."

I went back inside. I didn't want to hear what they were talking about. 

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Stanley was back in my room. I could hear him talking. I couldn't hear what he was saying. It was too far away. I felt something that might have been a punch, but I was too far away to know for sure. 

He was mad, I could tell. My body kept  moving. Like he was shaking me or something. I couldn't focus even if I tried. I felt my  head swing back and forth.  There was no pain. I'd moved in deep enough that I couldn't feel any pain. 

I threw up. Stanley threw me back down on the bed. 

"You just lie there in your own filth, you disgusting piece of shit!" came through my haze. 

If Jenna and Tyler aren't looking for me, why am I trying so hard to stay alive? I should just let go, or whatever, however. If they don't care, then they won't miss me. And I can stop being in so much pain. Pain I only feel when Stanley either forces me to come back, or I come back for some other reason. I try to stay away as much as I can though. At least down  here, I can't feel any pain, really. 

The other man came into the room and knelt down beside me. I could feel him wipe my face. 

"This isn't right. I'm gonna help you kid. I'm so sorry."

I went back down.

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Gillingham POV

This is messed up. I don't know what Deitz intended when we talked about breaking out back in Masonville, but I didn't think it included torturing this kid. I know he wanted her back. He was persuasive, and said that his kid had been taken from him and he wanted her back, to show people he was a good dad and that she deserved to be home with him again, though we'd have to lay low for a while, seeing as we were planning to break out during our transport. 

But once I brought his kid home from finding her at school, I didn't think this is what he had planned. I'd seen the newspaper when I'd slipped out in the middle of the night to get us a few more supplies. His kid is diabetic, and he's not giving her any medication whatsoever. And when he does feed her, it's granola bars or some other junk. Her breath smells really, I dunno, fruity? It's weird. And all she does is lie there and stare at the ceiling. If her eyes are even open, which they aren't much, considering he's given her two black eyes. 

I know if I call the cops and tell them she's here, with Deitz, if I survive any sort of standoff, I'm looking at a lot longer in jail than I initially was sentenced for, but I can't sit here and watch him torture his kid. It's just not right.  There's a hotline. I might call it tonight from a payphone at the gas station. It's far enough away that Deitz won't catch on, and I can drive there in the car we have stashed two blocks away. We move it, well, I move it, every time I take it out. So it's never parked in the same place so as to be less suspicious. I can't watch him do this. 

After he came out of the kid's room, where I'd heard him yell about her lying in her own filth, I went in when I knew Deitz was passed out. He'd been drinking heavily all day.  The kid had thrown up and was just lying there. I picked up a piece of cloth that had been tying her to the bed the first couple of days, and wiped her face. 

"This isn't right," I whispered to her. "I'm gonna help you kid. I'm so sorry."