Vengeful Bounty (17 page)

19

They left me alone for a while. How long, there was no telling. I may have been in there for minutes, or it could've been hours. There was no clock, no window to show me the sun or the moon. Just the pale green walls encasing me in this stuffy basement prison. The still space didn't even have any airflow, no air-conditioning to keep me cool. Soon the sheets I lay on became damp with my sweat and stuck to my skin.

I lay back with my head on the pillow and stared at the mounted camera. The black lens was like an unblinking eye, preventing me from being able to move about the room (well, that and the fact that my foot was chained to the bed). Being under constant scrutiny forced me to have to act drugged at all times so Roberto would believe the LSD Plus was working its full effects. Thank heaven Dad had made me get that vaccination. At least I had an advantage, be it a small one. It might just save my life.

I lay on my side, playing with the ends of my hair, my stomach in a knot, my lower half echoing memories of its recent violation; I could feel the slow ooze of the cold medical lube and would've given anything for a tissue to wipe it away. In my mind, I pictured Stefan's head on a spike. Then added some rats chewing on his ear to complete the picture. It didn't make me feel any better. Rats probably wouldn't like the way he tasted, anyway.

I closed my eyes. Perhaps if I fell asleep and dreamed, my subconscious would enlighten me with a plan for once I got out of here. It would help me keep up my strength, too. I'd had a very, very long day…

My eyes snapped open as my heart jumped. Poor Rogue! What was he going to do without me? I imagined him, waiting by the door, his tail unmoving, his belly hungry. He'd need to go out to potty, and I wouldn't be there.

Damn it! My stupidity had gotten me into this fix, my lack of being aware of my surroundings and lack of preparation for danger. Now, it not only affected me with consequences, but Rogue, too. He didn't deserve this. Stinging tears filled my eyes, and I tried in vain to blink them away. Pulling the sheet over my face so the camera wouldn't see (after all, I was supposed to be in an oblivious, drugged stupor), I let the tears flow. Sniffing quietly, I silently reprimanded myself over and over, vowing never again to be so foolish.

Then a beautiful realization hit.

Colt!

He'd told me he was going to pick me up to go sparring in the morning.

He would probably arrive late-morning, and when he came to my door, he'd knock or ring the bell. At no answer, he'd use the thumb sensor to let himself in. He had access to the apartment, as did my father. And then he'd see Rogue. He'd realize that I hadn't been home. He'd take the dog with him, most likely, and might even start the search for me.

Oh, thank goodness.

But then, once he understood that I was missing, it would throw everyone I knew into a worried frenzy, which could be good or bad. If Colt and Dad kept it hush-hush, they might find a way to track me down. It would be bad if word got out and my picture ended up on the TV, and then Roberto might find out my identity.

Please keep things quiet, Colt,
I thought.
Please find a way to hunt these villains down, Dad!

At least Rogue would be taken care of. My tears slowed and, under the protection of the bed sheet, I wiped all traces of moisture from my cheeks. Letting out a heavy sigh, I felt my eyes flutter to a close. My body felt so heavy, as if it would sink into the mattress and be swallowed up. I curled my legs up into the fetal position, despite the nasty heat.

I didn't think of Damon as much. Just once or twice. Rehashing old memories. Nothing productive. I didn't miss him now. He was off in another country and had no clue that I was in this fix. He was no longer part of my life. For all he knew, I was safe and sound. It disgusted me. But that's the way it was, and I was coming to quickly accept it. I didn't have much of a choice. I didn't try to fight the truth and because of that it grew easier by the moment.

But I didn't want to dwell on that particular sorrow. I was already in a tight spot as it was.

So my thoughts drifted to Jackson. It seemed only moments ago that I'd run my fingers across the smooth music box he'd so sweetly given me. I could still hear its melody in my head. What would it be like to dance with Jackson to that melody? To feel him close, to feel safe and alive and filled with possibilities?

Possibilities that might no longer exist, due to my foolishness.

What would he think if I disappeared from his life with no explanation? Would he seek me out? And if I never returned, would it hurt him to find out I'd thrown my life into the grubby hands of an Octopus and died the death of a prisoner?

He would be hurt. Of that I was certain. How hurt, I still didn't know. But thinking about causing him grief, and about robbing myself the chance of seeing our bond—whatever it was—grow, gave me firm resolve not to let the bad guys win.

Before I drifted off, I counted my blessings and promised myself that I would get out of this, and when I did, Roberto would be my new Number 25.

*

I woke up, having kicked the sheets off of me, my hair matted in sweat.

A figure stood beside the bed. I didn't look up, merely looked at my hands as if they were fascinating.

Stefan's low laugh ignited fury in me, but I focused on my fingernails, using the tips of my right fingers to caress the smooth cuticles of the left.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

His beady eyes traced the lines of my body, and he cradled my head until our eyes met. I squinted, as if the light hurt me to look up. He chuckled.

“Like those drugs, huh?” he asked. “Like the way they make you feel?”

I breathed out a half laugh and nodded awkwardly, feigning weakness.

“Good girl,” he said. “I have another one for you.”

He put his hand in front of my mouth. In his palm was another little pink pill. Doing what I knew most druggies would do in this situation, I lifted a shaking hand (voluntarily shaking) and reached for it. He pulled back his hand, enjoying the agony he thought he was causing me.

You complete fool,
I thought, smiling inside.
Bring me a whole damn bottle, and I'll still know exactly what's going on.

“Why don't you give me a little kiss, first?” he said.

I acted dizzy, and paid more attention to the back of my hand, staring at it with my lower lip drooping, engrossed as if watching a blockbuster movie.

“Silly girl,” he said, lifting my chin.

I closed my eyes, lest he see that my eyes weren't dilated.

He brought my face close to his and rested his thin lips, recently over-moistened by his tongue, against my dry mouth. I lay there, complacent, as he ran his tongue across my lips. But one kiss wasn't enough. He kept on going. I felt him reach for my shoulder.

The sliding door opened with a
hiss
. I didn't look up to see who it was.

“Stefan,” Roberto said. “What do you think you're doing?”

Stefan stiffened. “Just giving her the drugs, boss.”

“That's what I thought.”

The silence that followed must've been nerve-racking to Stefan. He fiddled with his hands and cleared his throat.

“I can see everything from my office,” Roberto said with quiet authority. “Don't think you can't be replaced.”

“I know that, boss.”

“Then do what you need to do, and get out of here.”

“Yes, boss.”

Roberto filled the room with another pregnant pause, then shut Stefan and me alone together again.

He turned to me, muttering quietly, “Thinks he's the goddamn king of the universe. He wasn't anything before Nando, only one of his workers, just like us.”

I breathed out of my mouth, pretending to fall asleep.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, holding the pill in front of my mouth. “Here you go.”

I leaned my head down and pressed my mouth against the palm of his hand, and he scooped up the LSD Plus onto my tongue. I swallowed it.

Stefan stood there for just a while longer, perhaps contemplating on whether or not he should try to cop one more feel before he left. He chose against it, and left my side in a hurry, pressing his thumb against the print-sensor lock to let himself out.

The door shut, and once again, I was left alone with the eye of the video camera recording my slow torture.

It was so unbelievably hot in there. The faint breeze Stefan had stirred upon his leaving was like a touch of heaven, the airflow almost cool for those couple of seconds as he walked to the door.

But worse than the hellish temperature was the sharp pain in my bladder.

Oh, no. I really had to pee.

Not lifting my eyelids more than halfway open, I slowly shifted my legs and arms to drier parts of the mattress, careful not to make it obvious what I was doing. People drugged on LSD Plus wouldn't even bother moving around to stay dry because they wouldn't feel the dampness against their limbs—or if they did, they wouldn't care.

They also wouldn't feel the need to relieve themselves.

I closed my eyes, fighting a mortified moan welling up inside of me.

I'd seen video footage of girls doped up on LSD Plus, and it was not a pretty picture. They swayed when they stood, if they could manage it. They stared into space a lot. When they moved, it looked awkward, almost as if they didn't know how to control their limbs and all motor skills had flown out the window. They drooled on themselves. Spilled food and drink on themselves. They urinated on themselves.

I clenched my teeth together behind closed lips.

I was going to have to wet the bed.

Because if I sat up and calmly asked to use the bathroom, Roberto would know the drug wasn't working.

I could hold it. For all they knew, I could've emptied my bladder at the restaurant. But there was no telling how much time had passed. And I was trying to make this seem as real as possible. I had no choice, really.

Taking a deep breath, I threw my mind in a faraway place—a land of make believe where unicorns ran across mist-covered emerald hills—while back in reality I did what I hadn't done since I wore diapers.

And, yes, it was just as disgusting as you'd think.

*

I lay on my stomach, my back red and raw and reeking of urine. My left ear pressed against the pillow, moist from perspiration.

My mouth was a desert; I imagined I could feel grainy sand on my teeth. I couldn't remember a time when I'd been so thirsty. I was ravenous for water. I'd even licked some of the sweat off my arms. It didn't help, the salty taste only amplifying my fantasies of blue lagoons.

And though I was also growing hungry—my stomach growled frequently to remind me—it was the thirst that was killing me.

And too much longer like this, it would kill me.

I gently chewed on my tongue to create at least a little moisture for me to swallow, just so the inside of my cheeks would stop feeling like sun-scorched rocks, and my throat would cease to sting and scrape every time I breathed.

Didn't Roberto say he wanted to sell me? How was he going to do that if he left me in here to rot?

*

More time passed.

At least prisoners had windows. My lungs ached for fresh air.

My body steadily began to lose its strength. One would think that by lying in bed for hours on end a person would get energized and restless. Instead, I only felt more tired.

Fatigue weighted down my limbs. I slept more and more.

Stefan continued to come with the pink pills. Twice he changed the bed linens, scooting my body to various parts of the mattress as he pulled urine- and sweat-stained sheets off and put clean ones on. He didn't kiss me anymore, but looked at my body with predatory longing. How could sex between two people be so wonderful, yet so brutal and disgusting to think about when it came to creatures like Stefan? Even though Damon had ruined his reputation and destroyed his place in my heart, I had felt loved when our bodies were entwined and his hands caressed my skin. To Stefan and Roberto, I was nothing but a chained animal made for nothing but their pleasure. Sex would merely be an act to empty their filthy desires, neither having a care of how I felt or if they'd hurt me in the process. With a weak pang of dread in my gut, I hoped that I wouldn't find that out for certain.

During one of Stefan's visits with my “medicine,” he brought a tiny plastic cup with two, maybe three sips of water. My hands shook with real tremors as I grabbed his wrist, holding it steady, as he poured the liquid into my mouth.

The taste of it filled me with life, a ray of brilliant sunlight during this dark time.

But just as soon as the burst of energy came, it was gone, and I was left aching for water. It seemed he'd given me just enough to survive.

*

Sleep interwove with periods of consciousness, but the two soon began to blur. Times I thought I was awake, I'd open my eyes to find that I'd been dreaming of the empty room. So this was what it felt like to go insane.

The camera stayed on continually, its red light blurring when I looked up at it. During one frightening moment of hallucination, it began to drip like blood.

I shook my head.

Only a light.

How long had I been here?

A day?

Two?

A week?

Thoughts of death's release frightened me, and I buried my face in my pillow to hide my tears.

I couldn't give in.

I would not think of dying.

Dying was not an option.

I was going to find a way out.

I had to.

I had to survive.

For my brother, for my father, for my dear little Rogue. For Jenny, for Jackson, for the suffering people like Leigh. For justice.

And for me.

So when Stefan entered the room with Roberto for my latest round of LSD Plus, I used my stores of willpower to listen carefully as they foolishly began a detailed conversation, which gave me significant information to start formulating a plan of vengeance.