Run

Chapter 10: The Room

I think I've been here for about a month now. It's hard to tell without and windows or a view of the world.

I'm sure at this point I stink, look like a trashcan, lost a lot of weight unhealthily, and most of my cuts are infected.

Marcus hadn't come back, but what I think was everyday, someone would come in and use the whip, knives, all sorts of weapons, and did the same thing he did when I first woke up. Except now, they don't ask me questions. The just beat me to a pulp.

I've learned not to react. I don't scream or whimper or cry or beg for mercy any longer. If I do, they become much more harsh.

I don't know how often, but I get food what feels about every three-ish days. Some water, which usually isn't exactly clean, and some bread, which is always stale or moldy.

I still stay shackled the whole time. I have no blanket, pillow, mattress, anything. Just the torn sweater and jeans I was wearing when I got here, but they aren't much more than rags now.

Sitting in the cell, curled in a ball with my head tucked between my knees, I hear the door opening. I keep my head down, being submissive towards them.

They approach me and I brace myself, waiting for the blow, but it doesn't come.

Instead, I feel the cuffs being tugged at, and then my right hand is free, them my left.

"Alpha is moving you to a room in the pack house," the man, that I now realize is Marcus says. He grabs my bicep, pulling me up and out of the cell, as he begins walking up some stairs. "You are going to stay there until you are ready to speak with him. Am I clear?" I nod my head as I attempt to keep up with him.

He pulls me out of the cells and into the forest. It's nighttime, and the only light is from the glow of the moon. Stumbling and tripping to keep up with him, I stare at the ground, trying to make sure I don't fall.

I notice we're approaching a house, which I assume is the pack house. I don't really take in much except it's huge, and more like a mansion than a house.

I let Marcus take me inside and drag me up some more stairs, as if the seven flights in the cells weren't enough, and then he opens a door.

He shoves me into the room, causing me to bump into him, and he slams the door shut.

Standing up, I look around, taking the room in. A dresser to my right, a door that probably leads to the bathroom on my left, a bed in the middle with a night stand next to it, and a closet over by the dresser.

I limp my way over to the dresser. I search around for some underwear, and I find some panties, and luckily there's a bra in my size. Grabbing a hoodie and some leggings, I trudge over to the bathroom.

It's just simple and white, nothing special about it. I start the water, strip and get in the shower. I let the warm water wash the dirt off, and it cleans my cuts. I look and see some body wash and shampoo, so I use both of them.

When I'm done, I shut off the water, grab a towel, and wrap up. I dry off, and then put on the sweatshirt and pants. I scrunch the water out of my hair, and take a moment to appreciate being clean. I dig around and I find toothpaste, a toothbrush, a comb, and some deodorant. Brush my hair and teeth and then swipe on some deodorant.

I walk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, when I kick something. I look down, and see it's a pocket knife. I realize I must've knocked it off the guy who brought me here. I swoop it up and head back into the bathroom. I pop open the medicine cabinet, only to find it's full of make-up. I slide the knife in, making sure some brushes are in front of it.

I make my way back out of the bathroom and I head towards the bed. I feel the comforter. It's so soft and welcoming. I pull back the blanket and climb under it. I adjust my position, allowing myself to get comfortable. For the first time in a month, I'm almost okay.