This room is much smaller than the previous, and much more humid. No cabinet, mattress, or fake windows. The ground is still soil though, and the cage door looks almost identical. Does he have a camera here too? I don't care to find out. I have been lying on the ground for hours, shivering. All I have are my bra and a pair of jeans. I feel a severe cold setting in, give it a couple more hours and I will be sick to my stomach. Occasionally, I dose off. My wrists still hurt from where Hunter grabbed me. Peterson probably already displayed his body outside for the world to see. What would Hunter's parents think? Anyone who knew him would never believe he killed himself. He simply had no reason too. My body begins to fill with guilt. I have been in denial for a while now. I killed Hunter. I killed him. Not Peterson, all he did was protect me. Did I really have to go that far? Blanche and Beau are right. It is all my fault. Maybe if I hadn't screamed it would have been over faster and Peterson wouldn't have noticed. We were so close. If only I kept my mouth shut... I wish I could apologise, but I have no idea when I will see anyone again. How long will Peterson keep me in this prison?
Hunter's last words go through my mind again.
Him complaining about the lack of sex between us wasn't the first time. I was never comfortable enough to do much with him, but at the same time we were 13. I used to feel guilty about it every time I said no, Hunter made sure of that. Until I realized he was only here for that and nothing else.
That's when I broke things up.
I hear something light fall next to me. I slowly turn my head.
Peterson stands behind the bars of the cage.
I look at what he just dropped, a teeshirt.
I grab it and rush to put it on.
The material was thin, but because of its big sizing, my thighs and biceps were covered as well.
I continue to just sleep, shiver, sit against the wall and cry. That's all I do in this fucking room. How long has it even been? It scares me how sense of time has been completely lost. It's now so cold I can barely move. I just lie curled up against the wall trying to keep all of my heat in. Now I'm starting to cough. My throat has never felt so soar. I don't even have the energy to cry anymore.
"Dove."
The bright light above me hurts my eyes, so I can barely open them.
He taps my shoulder.
"Dove."
I can't really respond. I feel my body being lifted. He will probably kill me. How? Will he shoot me? Or drug me? Burn me alive outside his house? Hang me on his front porch?
He carries me throughout the basement.
He stops walking to unlock a door. I'm not awake enough to understand what door it is.
My eyes are wide open.
Sunlight?
I'm in the huge room with the striped green wallpaper. I see the front door. The exit is so close. I want to get out of his arms.
"Try not to move too much."
His grip on me tightens.
He takes me up some stairs. And more stairs. And more stairs. I'm too tired to look where he's taking me, so I feel his shoulder against my head. He steps through a door.
I try to make out my surroundings. A bedroom?
He comes closer to the bed, and lays me down on it.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm comfortable. The mattress beneath me is much more pleasant than the ones in the basement. The blanket is warm and the pillow is soft.
I'm instantly half asleep as I hear him say:
"I'll get you some medicine."
I finally wake up feeling well-rested. He closed the curtains before he left, but I can still see some sunlight peaking through. It must be around 5 pm. I take a look around the room. Why did he move me here?
This is the first room I'm seeing without green walls. Here, they are lavender with little white flowers. There are also some chairs, a closet and a white nightstand by the bed with a lamp. There is also a very old TV and some cardboard boxes. Why? Right under the bed is a round green carpet. The window is directly behind me, currently covered by maroon blinds. The bed itself is wooden, with white painted details. I feel extremely relieved to see wooden floor panels. I shiver as I think about being curled up on the soil in the basement just a few hours ago. I hope my friends are just as fortunate and he moved everyone upstairs.
The door opens.
"Oh, you're awake."
My heart beat quickens.
"I got something to help with the cold."
In his hands is a container of pills and a glass of water.
"Why did you take me here?"
I'm too afraid to look him in the eyes. He shot Hunter, nothing is stopping him from shooting me.
"You got really sick in that room by yourself. And I can't let you stay with the others."
"Why not?"
"Your brains were everyone's only chance to ever get out."
"Did you let Poésie go?"
He took in a deep breath.
"I did, it's harmless."
I look at him.
"Thank you."
"Here, take this."
He hands me one of the pills, and the glass of water.
I hesitate. It's probably going to kill me. But refusing to take it will probably put me back in the room downstairs.
I swallow the pill, and drink some of the water.
"I'm going to try to get you a change of clothes and some food."
He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Why is he doing all this?
I notice that he left the rest of the pills on the bedside table. I read the label. Ibuprofen. Regular cold medicine.
