Against the clock

12.

Tw: rape

Mer's pov

Two days slipped away, shrouded in absolute darkness, with the tension of our awkward encounter, the bathing incident lingering in the air. Although our hands were unbound, an unspoken agreement maintained a distance between us. It felt like we had been trapped in this place for an eternity, and the hope of escaping became smaller.

Beside me, Derek sat in silence, and a full day had passed since our last conversation. Breaking the stillness, I posed a random question, 'Do I still need to finish my thesis?' Derek shifted slightly, his silhouette barely discernible in the darkness. After a contemplative pause, he responded, 'Well, if you want to graduate, I suppose the thesis is still a thing. But then again, who knows what the rules are in this situation.' Examining my hands, I noticed the length of my fingernails and focused on them, 'If the thesis is still a requirement, then I want to change the subject.' His gaze, a barely discernible presence in the obscurity, shifted towards me. 'You shouldn't do that,' he cautioned, the weight of his words adding an unexpected gravity to the seemingly casual remark.

I continued to look down, my focus on the nails persisting. 'I don't want to research that anymore,' I admitted, the admission carrying the weight of a decision made in the face of an uncertain and confined reality. After a prolonged pause, Derek spoke with a subdued empathy in his voice, 'I can't imagine how difficult this is for you, but your research matters. The way you spoke about your topic, was incredible. I could see in your eyes that you loved it. Letting it go might not be the solution. Maybe we can find a way for you to approach it differently, to reclaim control over it.'

'I am never having sex again, let alone writing about it,' I declared, the resolute tone underscoring the depth of my distress. The words echoed in the darkness, carrying the weight of both vulnerability and defiance. 'Why did you choose the topic' Derek asked me. 'I've already told you that,' I replied, not wanting to delve into the painful details. Derek, however, stepped in with a thoughtful response. 'Because you thought that the connection you have when having intercourse is amazing, and you wanted to research what happens in the brain. You aimed to break the silence around discussing the profound impact of intimacy on our emotions. You were going to explore something that no one else dares to. Meredith, you shouldn't give it up because of a bad person who ruined it. The connection, with the right person, is still amazing, and you will get that back someday.'

Derek's words hung in the air, a delicate counterbalance to the heaviness that surrounded us. In the obscure silence, a sense of contemplation settled over the space we shared. 'Maybe there's a way to approach your research differently,' Derek continued, his voice a reassuring presence. 'Focus on the neuroscience, the psychology, without delving into the personal experiences. You have a unique perspective, and there's still so much valuable knowledge you can contribute without revisiting the painful aspects.' His suggestion resonated, offering a potential avenue for me to reconcile with my work. Still fixated on my hands, I mulled over his words. The prospect of reclaiming control over my academic pursuit, divorcing it from the traumatic encounter, held a flicker of promise. 'I suppose,' I whispered, the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders. 'But I need time, Derek. Time to distance myself from... all of it.'

'Take all the time you need,' Derek responded, his understanding evident. Derek's genuine concern reverberated through the darkness, his words a gentle offer of support. 'If you want to talk about what happened, you know that you can talk to me, right?' he added, his voice carrying a comforting warmth. 'I know' I said while looking at him.

'Do you think they're still looking for us?' I asked Derek. His gaze shifted toward the small, barred window, as if searching for an answer in the slivers of dim light that pierced the darkness. He sighed, a heavy exhale laden with the weight of uncertainty. 'I don't know, Meredith. It's been days, maybe weeks. Time feels distorted in this hellhole. But I have to believe someone is looking for us.'