The Blanket Baby

Chapter 24 - Mr. Blanket

"Where the fuck are you taking me?"

The tired, insensate monotone of Tilly's voice echoed through the hallway as he rolled her wheelchair down it. The sound caused a great steady ache in the pit of his chest and he willed himself not to rub at it for he knew better than to show any emotions outside, besides, he's chalking it up to the medication the doc currently has her own. The past couple of weeks Tilly has been excessively violent towards his presence in any room he's entered where she happens to be in. If it's not a book, then it's a cup or a plate, or a knife or one of the IV needle replacements the doc had laid out because she ripped the one she had in out of her skin from whatever triggered her violent reaction. If his reflexes weren't so used to the assaults right now, he'd probably be lying in his own sick bed right now. He still can't fathom how she has an uncannily accurate aim for someone who is temporarily incapacitated. The smooth heels of his shoes clicked softly against the wooden floor as they came unto the elevator, he pressed the up button and it dinged signalling its arrival. The doors spread open, and he wheeled her in settling her in place before picking the lowest floor to the dungeons.

"I have a surprise for you, Tilly." He knew what he had in store for her was sick in its own right but twisting things - literally and figuratively - does produce results, ethics be damned.

"Does it involve me whittling a wind chime out of your bones?" Her voice was a little bit chipper but the tiredness still resonated throughout.

The jab was impressive.

"Nope. Even better."

"I don't think anything would be better than bathing in your blood."

"Seriously, why all the hate?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Worth a shot." He hasn't forgotten what he's done to her. Just surprised that she got away and managed to evade him for nearly six years. They rode out the rest of the way in silence until they got to one particular cell. He couldn't see it but he could definitely tell that Tilly's heart was definitely going twenty miles a minute. She definitely recognize the cell. She was in it ten weeks ago until her beatings pushed her to the brink of life and death. However, she'll just be an observer today.

Moving to the adjacent room connected to the cell, he strolled her in - a quick nod to the current guards - and locked her wheels into place before adjusting the lighting a bit  in front of a five-inch thick, double paned, nonreflective plexiglass. Once satisfied, he flipped on the connecting light to the other room revealing an exhausted Athena, curls dull and lackluster, dirt and muck plastered all over her, clothes tattered; deep purple bruised littering her arms, face and ribs, swaying rhythmically fighting to stay conscious.

"What did you do to her?!" The anger in her voice was eminent. He's going to enjoy this.

"Wait here," he said giving her a soft peck on the top of her head, "I'll show you." And he left the room but not before hearing Tilly's futile struggle in the wheelchair.

"James! If you touch her-" she was trying to push through the neuromuscular relaxants. "James, you bastard."

"I want my daughter, Tilly. I won't stop." Slamming the door effectively.

*****

"I must admit you gave us quite a trip, Athena." James said as he entered Athena's holding cell. She's a little worse for wear - hell, a lot - but she's surprisingly tough piece of fabric. Definitely cut from the same cloth as Tilly.

"I think acid does a better job at that."

A yank on her chain definitely had her slamming to the ground, a lengthy groan vibrating her vocal cords. "Let's try this again." He pulled a chair in front of her. "Where's my daughter?"