Hidden Away

Forty-One: Bandages

    My mind has been running in circles.

    After countless hours, I have yet to understand how I got here. Not literally how I got here. I know that. But how every single moment and detail of my life has been perfectly and intricately aligned to land me here, imprisoned by my ex-boyfriend, who I was so sure loved me. Who I was so sure I wouldn't feel anything but love for him for the rest of my life.

    Oh, how wrong I was.

    I should have seen it coming. I'm smart enough to have seen it coming. But I didn't. Despite the many clues he gave me, going missing for hours, following me to the Destroyer base, I stupidly believed him when he claimed to love me. And that was my downfall.

    Maybe love is a weakness like he claimed it was. After all, it led me here, wherever I am. It made me stupid, oblivious, and I hate myself for it.

So much so that as my eyes flutter open, greeting the darkness, I curse myself once again for being so gullible.

    The darkness I'm surrounded by is unfamiliar. They only source of faint lights comes from a dimly lit light bulb in the opposite side of the room from where I sit against a wall, illuminating blank, grey walls and what looks like to be a completely empty room.

    The first sign of mobility that reaches me is through my fingers. They involuntarily drum against the cold concrete under me, twitching as I regain feeling in them. The rest of my body follows slowly, and soon enough, I'm able to move my neck, lifting my head from its resting position against the wall.

I look down at myself and my body goes rigid at the sight of my clothing. The clothes I was wearing before are no longer there. They've been replaced by a simple black t-shirt and black sweatpants. A panicked noise leaves my lips as I push myself up against the wall, grimacing at the pain that twinges from my abdomen. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, I lift it, eyeing the bandage that wraps tightly around my waist. A blooming red patch covers the side of it, giving view to the wound under it that is still bleeding.

    The door opens with a loud, heavy creak, letting in a stream of light from the other side. I drop the shirt and press myself against the wall, eyeing whoever it is on the other side of the door. Part of me hopes that it's Evan, that this is all a dream and he's here to get me. But it's not him, and he isn't going to come save me, because he's the reason I'm here.

    "Are you awake?" Levi's voice rings out into the room too casually. As if he didn't betray his brother and kingdom. As if he didn't betray me too.

    I don't say anything.

    Levi walks into the room and suddenly, he flips a switch, causing the room to fill with a bright fluorescent light that burns my eyes. I squint while they adjust, watching as he stalks into the room, eyeing me. "I see that you are."

    He has also changed out of his bloody battle clothes and into a t-shirt and casual pants of his own. His hair is damp, evidence of his recent shower. Stopping in the middle of the room, leaving distance between us, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. "How are you feeling?"

    All I can do is glare at him. I don't understand why he has the nerve to care— to ask about how I feel. I know he doesn't care, so why does he bother to ask?

    "You can talk to me, princess," he says calmly, kneeling down on one knee before me. The name he calls me is foreign, and I don't know why he would suddenly start calling me that. Maybe it's to taunt me.

    My voice finally escapes me in a week rasp. "Go to hell," I tell him.

    Levi laughs, the deepness of it unfamiliar—nothing to the laughs I've heard from him before. He leans in closer to me and his hand comes up to my chin, roughly pulling my face toward him. My body goes rigid in his hold as I feel his breath fan my face. "If only you knew, I've been there my whole life."