Devoid [Bruno Mars]

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty

I moved before I opened my eyes. Regretted it. Bile rose in my throat and my head spun. I tried swallowing but the dryness of my throat wouldn't allow it. The room blurred when I cracked open my eyelids, swirls of brown and dimness. The walls were made out of wood, polished and shiny, as if they were enclosed in a membrane. Red curtains that were fraying at the edges blocked out the light demanding to slip inside the room. The right side of my head throbbed. I wasn't tied up and began to examine myself, wiggling my fingers and my toes, checking if they were still intact. I felt alongside my body. The fabric was stretchy and when I looked down, I saw the neckline of a black dress, the rest of me covered in a thick, white blanket. My hand dove under the hem of my dress, snapped at my underwear, glad it was still there. There was no pain. No substances.

“I didn't harm you.”

I swiveled my head. Slowly. My eyes dragged across wooden panels. I couldn't hear his steps, they were ghostly across the floor, but I knew he was coming closer. I heard a whimper. It took a second to realize it was me. I tried getting away, moving limbs across the bed as if I were wading in water. It was no use. I was too sick to even shift my body a little. I ended up curling into myself with my heart pounding painfully into my ribs. 

“You'll feel better soon.”

He stepped into my line of view, the front of his jeans in my face. It took a lot of effort but I eventually rolled my eyes up, and when my gaze focused on inky black eyes the breath hissed out of me. “You're dead,” I whispered.

“I'm very much alive.”

*

When I woke up again there was a bottle of water on a bedside stand, waiting for me, calling for me. Next to it, a plastic bag. I reached for the water. My throat felt like it was scratched with sandpaper. I took long, big gulps, the water dribbling down my jaw and running down my neck. I positioned myself upright, my head going in rapid circles, the plastic crushing in my grip as I drank the last few drips. I took a loud breath and wiped the excess water away with the back of my hand, now regretting to check if the liquid had been tainted in some form. The bag was filled with nuts and berries. I sniffed them and licked one. Unsalted. I ate a handful, forcing myself not to eat anymore. I had to pee. Badly. But first: get out of here. I flipped the blanket aside about to stand when a voice stopped me.

“I was waiting for you to awake.” Joseph entered the room. His figure was a silhouette until he stepped into the line of faint light spilling from behind the curtains. I blinked, in a moment of foggy memories. At Grim he was tall and lanky, pale, with silent amused eyes. He was still tall, but with more meat on his bones, and tan. He still had a shock of thick, black hair, which was in messy waves as if he didn't care to do it. His jaw was hard and angular, eyes blank. One thing that was obviously different was his clothes. Whenever I saw him in my dreams that I kept in secret, or in the corners of my eyes or stroking a thumb across my cheek, he wore all white. Now he wore faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt that had tiny holes in the fabric. He seemed like a guy I would see at a movie theater, or the mall. Typical. Young. But at this moment, he looked evil. Murderer my mind screamed. Was he going to kill me? Slice my throat after he was done with me?

I gathered the blankets all the way to my neck, covering myself. My dress stopped at my knees and was sleeveless. I pressed my back into the headboard as he came close, every muscle in me tense, like barbed wire, waiting for his attack. “I'm not going to hurt you.” His voice was soft, the kind of soft a kidnapper uses on his victim right before the kidnapper bashes their head in.

“Don't,” I said shakily. “Stay away from me.”

He paused near the foot of the bed. 

“I seen you,” I continued. “I seen you send a knife through your heart.”