His Prize

Chapter 22: Responsibility

Alex parks in the garage and gets out the car. "Wait here."

I nod, keeping my eyes on Michael. He's still unconscious on my lap.

Alex returns a few minutes later and lifts Michael over his shoulder. I follow as he's carried to my bed. The taser is back on Alex's belt. He must be worried about a fight.

He links the handcuffs to the bedpost above Michael's head, then grabs my arm and pulls me out the room.

"Your boyfriend can stay while he recovers, but only on the condition that you remain in my sight at all times. Understand?"

"Yes," I blurt out. "Can I please bandage him up?"

He gestures his head in the bathroom's direction.

I fetch the first aid kit.

I begin working on Michael's cuts. Alex watches from the bedroom door. I clean the cuts, apply disinfectant, and wrap bandages. I lift his shirt. There's bruising on his abdomen. I hope it's not serious. Alex leans against the wall while fiddling with his phone. He seems rather disinterested in this whole thing.

Michael begins to stir. He coughs and opens his eyes.

"Michael," I grab his hand and make sure I'm the first thing he sees.

He tries to say something, but another cough is all that comes out.

"Oh, I'll be right back." I run to the kitchen, fill a glass with water and rush back to him.

I lift his head and put the glass to his lips, allowing him to drink.

"Where am I?" he asks in a scratchy voice.

"You're safe in my room. I've got you."

His eyes move from me and land on Alex. "One of them is here."

"Don't worry about him. He won't harm you," I try to reassure him.

"Right-" he coughs, "Right, because he's your owner. You let them turn you into a pet?" He's disappointed in me.

I hold up my hands and show him the small red lines on my palms. They're scars from my first escape attempt. "I haven't let them do anything."

He stares at my hands and then back at me. The look in his eye says he gets it. I'll never submit, and he knows it.

The moment is cut short by another coughing fit. I run back to the kitchen and refill the glass, quickly bringing it back to him.

"So, aside from this current shit storm. How are things?" he jokes.

"Oh you know, fighting for survival, got captured by parbeings, got a few beatings, thought I was going to die. I'm sure you know the feeling. No complaints really."

We continue like this for the next hour. I tend to his wounds while we sarcastically complain about the woes of our lives.

Alex motions for me to follow him to the living room.

"I've got to go for a while, but it was nice catching up. Next time you want to visit, maybe send a postcard instead. It would be better for your health," I tease.

"Right," he drags out the word.

Alex closes the door and locks it behind us, then motions for me to do the dishes.

While I'm scrubbing, he unlocks the neck chain and starts cooking dinner.

"We need to talk about your behaviour today," he begins, still focused on the vegetables he's chopping.