What Remains

Chapter 5

The Middle
Always the eyes.

For the majority of the next two days Kenny left me alone, only coming to give me meals and check my wound. It healed a decent amount as I have been in bed for most of those days either sleeping or eating. Useless. Kenny aided the healing time by stitching the wound shut while I was sleeping. Even so, I still felt it— It felt like I was being cut open all over again. I figured that, at least, this is the better alternative to starving for four days straight. I may be dramatic, but in all seriousness I'd rather not be hungry and in pain. Even if he didn't go out of his way to socialize with me, which he specifically didn't. It is like whenever I wake up my breakfast is there on the bedside table waiting for me. His later visits are always brief. The routine consists of deliver lunch, check my wound while I eat, leave with my dish, come back with dinner, then leave again; I assume he collects the last dish when he brings breakfast. A part of me, the bored and lonely part, kind of wishes he would speak to me. Even if it is just a curt 'how are you' or something. It's between that or staring at the ceiling or the window for hours.
For a short while, I contemplated trying to find a way to break the rope and run away. It was the perfect time to do so as Kenny was preoccupied with his plan, whatever that is. The underground room is soundproof enough that I could fall next to the entrance and he wouldn't hear it. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. I can't get far, I don't know what's out there.
"Quinn." I wake up to Kenny sitting beside my bed staring down at me.
I sit up, pushing my upper body with strained arms. Today, Kenny wears a dusty black turtleneck, A black sweater, and dark blue jeans.
My eyes fall to his hands, "What's that?" I ask, cocking a weary brow at the object in his grasp.
"Your mask." Kenny replies, handing it off to me.
I cleared my throat, what am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to say anything?
It's the mask. It looks just like the drawing.
"It looks just like the drawing..." I trail off, brushing my hand over the smooth porcelain.
Kenny's eyes fixate on my face as I explore the mask in my hands, searching, even trying to draw out any distasteful reactions. Through my peripheral vision, I can see a small sense of a hungry longing in his bright hazel eyes.
"D'you like it?" He grabs my attention. I catch his position; his upper body is shifted closer towards me, and his head is tilted curiously to the side. A kid looking into the window of a candy store.
"It's pretty." I reply. A hollow compliment. I give the mask back to him and put my hands in my lap.
Kenny fidgets with the back of the mask, unclipping the strap. "Come here." He says.
I reluctantly scoot towards him, tilting my face upwards towards his.
Don't flinch. Don't gasp. Don't make a sound. Just let it happen.
I stare into Kenny's eyes as he clasps the mask onto me. He is extremely delicate, like if he touches me with even the slightest force I'll shatter under him. He lifts any trapped strands of my dirty blonde hair, letting his fingers rest on them for a few seconds longer than what I'd call 'normal' (if I can call anything in this stupid place normal).
The porcelain is cold and hard on my face. It feels unnatural. It is not mine.
As Kenny removes his hands from the remaining stray hairs, his eyes hold something I can't understand. He examines my newly masked face thoroughly.
"Does it look okay?" I ask apprehensively, breaking the thick silence. I'm worried about that of all things?
Kenny gently moves a hand to my upper arm, still scanning over my face. "You're very pretty." He replies. His breath softly blows out from the jaw of his mask.
My shoulders slouch. "Thank you." I mutter, readjusting my posture.
A moment of silence is shared whilst he takes the sight of me in. The mask begins to feel uncomfortable and humid so I reach behind my head and clip it off, then gently place it on my lap. He expects me to wear it, that's clear, but do I have to wear it as much as he does? I can't imagine walking around in this thing all day.
"Today's the start, you know." Kenny breaks the silence, removing his hand from my arm. I turn back towards him, my eyes riddled with confusion. "We're going to May's house."
I forgot— how could I have forgotten? My breath hitches in my throat.
It'd serve May right.
But she wanted to help me.
But she didn't. She left me behind. She put me here just as much as the rest of them.
"If I say no, what would you do?" I ask apprehensively.
"We went through this."  Kenny replies bluntly, standing up.
I don't have to do anything.
But to have Kenny do it... No. I can't let him do it. I already know what he's capable of.
"Kenny, wait," I say, throwing my legs over the side of the bed.
Kenny pauses, his hand hovering over the door knob
"I'm coming with you."
Kenny turns towards me slowly, almost— almost taken aback by my sudden switch up.
"There you are." He remarks in a satisfied tone. He undoes the bind once again, afterwards gently pushing me in front of him with a hand to the low of my back, "You won't regret this."