The Center

[Part III - The End] Chapter 31 - "To love at all is to be vulnerable.

Heavy sleep seeps from my body. My eyes won't open. I attempt to wipe away the weight from my lids, but my arm won't move. My fingers open and close, my hand rotates. I try to shift my leg, but feel the same constraint at my ankle. Unconsciousness drains from my brain along with the knowledge of every rotten thing I've ever done.

Horrible memories.

Can't move my hands.

Horrible past.

Can't move my legs.

Horrible life.

Can't open my eyes.

I lived like a jerk. I'd been more than stupid. Now I'm locked up in The Center while all my ancient actions have me bound and frozen. It was dumb to trust Daniel at home. Dumb to trust him in The Chapel. Very, very dumb. I lost all the battles I'd been in. Dad. Daniel. Even my last revenge was anything but a victory. Instead, I'm pregnant from a one-night stand.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Well not any more. If I can change anything going forward, I'm going to stop being stupid. I try my legs again. My foot moves and my toes wiggle, but that's all. Something has them tied down. The same is true for my wrists. My heart responds to the lack of movement in my limbs, racing faster and faster. I rock my head back and forth on the pillow, messing my hair and loosening the panic. I force a hard blink, but my eyes won't open.

I'm trapped.

I should never have gone after the guards. All the hate and anger and hunger for love led me here. Bound. Wrists. Ankles. Eyes. I lift my shoulder to wipe my face, but it doesn't even reach my cheek. I inhale a deep breath and try one final hard blink. The mucus breaks from around my eyes.

The gray ceiling stares down at me. The room isn't rustic, but laboratory pale. I exhale, winded at the effort. Electricity hums through a solitary lamp on the bedside table. Shadows climb what must be white paint. Four windowless walls surround my bed refusing to reveal the time of day. The room contains a nightstand, a portable table and two chairs. No dead animals on the walls nor life of any kind.

They wouldn't have taken me out of The Center. No. They would find somewhere else to detain me. Somewhere dark and punishing. I finger the bed sheets and pull a chunk of them into a fist. The Bunker. They have buried me deep beneath the earth. I remember the prick in my thigh before I collapsed into Jackson's arms. How stupid was I? Only an idiot would take on prison guards in a fight.

I let my head sink deep into the pillow. I am an idiot. I spent my life doing millions of idiotic things trying to get my own way. I thought Fisher would be the only one confined to The Bunker. But in the end, maybe I'm worse than Fisher. At least he knows who he is. He owns it. Not like me. I've spent my life pretending.

I close my eyes and listen.

No footsteps.

No whispered conversations.

Only a cricket's song from a distant place. A sound not present in my city life, but something I've grown used to hearing in the trees outside my dorm room at night. I open my eyes wide. A cricket? I wouldn't hear that sound buried five stories beneath the earth.

"How're you feeling?"

I jump and the constraints pull at my limbs.

A blue-clad nurse carries a tray to the portable table.

Where did she come from?

I stare at the door I never noticed before. The entrance was painted solid white, no frame. This was creepy. I squint at her, afraid of what she'll do next. But, she only rolls the table over to me. Her face looks familiar. In fact, I think she's the same skinny lady who told me I was pregnant. She wheels the meal toward me. "I saw on the monitor that you'd awakened. I thought you might be hungry." She places a napkin on my chest.