Deserving | ✔

Chapter 44

Five.

Don't forget the count, Phillip. 

It's five so far. 

It's the fifth time you've come back to the conscious state. Five times. 

The first time was when I knocked off my chair to the ground and a big goon took all my kicks. Then he had straightened me and drugged me. I passed out seeing a familiar person behind those glasses, but my mind is too weary to bring about a steady stream of thoughts.

The second time, I woke up on my own, but my body went frigid and my eyes were drooping. My throat felt dry and my stomach was burning. The ache and fatigue of my body was the last thing I could remember before I passed out. My guess would be that I passed out because I had no food in my system.

That's because the third time I woke up, I saw an IV drip connected to my arm and I assumed it gave my body the energy to live. The same goon had come in that time and I bombed him with questions and curses till he jabbed me with the drugged needle again.

The fourth time, I was woken up with a splash of ice cold water. Again, with the same irritating guy, but this time with four other such bulky guys in the room with him. They wanted me to stretch my limbs and have a proper meal without any resistance. I refused at first and the death threat was merely mimicked by me. But then one of the guys told me that they knew other people whose deaths would not be mocked by me. And then he took Trisha's name. That made me oblige.

So with five goons watching every breath of mine, I was let loose of my physical bindings alone. Let me tell you, being tied to a chair isn't so bad so long as you're on the chair. But getting up feels like shit. It feels like your lower body and your upper body hate each other; your knees are backstabbing bitches that are waiting for the moment to buckle out and push you down; your butt feels like it was jammed into your body frame. Overall, you feel like shit. And I hated it, hated it so much, that as soon as I got up from the chair, I faltered onto one of the goons and needed their support to steady up my stand. I've never felt so ashamed in my entire life.

Long story short, I did what they asked me too and when I was back in the chair, I was stabbed by the stupid needle again before I could voice out my want to speak to whoever it is who's doing it to me. Those fuckers.

This is the fifth time. I'm still on the chair and still tied to it. The room behind the glass is dimly lit again, the same way it had been ever since the first time when I saw someone.

Who did I see? Who was it? Why am I not able to recall who it is that I saw? My body fatigues more and more every time I wake up and the stress of these questions don't help. I can't stress my body. I can't stress my mind. The drugs are tiring me out. They want me to submit and give up. They want my surrender.

But hell will freeze over the day I surrender to them willingly.

My forehead cinches as I try to collect facts from the past four times I've woken up.

First one, and perhaps the most important one, is that they don't want to kill me. They could've easily punched a bullet through my body, but the IV drip, the food and all make it a sure fact that they don't want my death. They want something else that requires me to stay alive. 

Second one is that they want something from me that requires my 100% submission. That is why they keep on drugging me. Perhaps if I am drugged enough, I'll be a prisoner to the effect even in my consciousness and will agree with whatever it is they want from me. 

These are the things that make sense to me. What doesn't make sense to me is that why anybody hasn't approached me to even talk. It has been roughly ten minutes since I have been awake this time. It could have been hours since I have been conscious because there is absolutely no way that I can track time. I don't even know how many days it has been since I was... abducted? What even is the right word for my situation right now?