He laughs, pleased. “Come on. Let’s see some real desperation, Lena.”
I try to block it out, the sounds of the screams he manages to wrench from them. I’m a statue made of cool, hard marble. There to simply observe but remain untouched by my surroundings, standing sentinel. What Zeke is forcing me to bear witness to lives in me now. It will live in me forever. But I can’t break the lie.
So I stay silent.
Zeke grows bored of the blood, of my lack of reaction, and turns to mind games. He whispers stories, grotesque, believable lies, of how I betrayed each of them. He tells Rex I begged him to kill them, that I only stayed because I was afraid of them. He tells Judge that I laughed behind his back and mocked his scars. He tells Doc I called him weak and a fool. Cole can’t hide the grimace on his face as Zeke creates fictional sexual scenarios, talking of all the times we were sleeping together behind their backs. He tells them Mary Beth’s lie, which they almost once believed, that I was his spy, his lover, working with him all along.
I don’t correct him.
The truth would only doom us all.
So I feed the poison with my silence. Let the lies curl into the air like smoke, each one choking me further.
I tell myself this is survival. That love, real love, wears masks when it must. That if I have to become the villain in their eyes to keep them breathing, then so be it.
But God help me, if we survive this, I don’t know if they’ll ever forgive me.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.
Chapter 29
Judge
When I come to, everything aches. My skull throbs like it’s a drum that someone is pounding as hard as they can. My arms are pulled up uncomfortably, chaining me to the rusted metal bars of a broken window frame. I’m in a room that looks like it hasn’t seen use in decades. Ivy creeps in through the cracks as nature tries to claim this place as its own—the wallpaper peels in strips. The stone floor is cold and hard, my legs are stiff, and my jeans are wet from the damp that seeps in through it.
Every inch of my body hurts, but it wasn’t something new to me. I’ve been through worse. The most torturous part of yesterday’s ordeal was that Lena was there to witness our pain and humiliation. To my shame, I found my faith in her wavering. I began to believe what Zeke was telling us, even as I said to myself that her cool indifference was an attempt to protect us. By the time Zeke finished, I no longer knew what to believe. I just needed him to stop. The pain of believing Lena never cared for us hurt more than a thousand cuts. I vaguely recall being brought here with Doc after Zeke grew bored of tormenting us and decided to split us up. After that, I fell into oblivion.
I blink through the darkness, looking for Doc.
It’s quiet, too quiet.
Doc is slumped, unconscious, on the other side of the room, similarly chained to a different window frame. The blood on his head has trickled down his face and dried. He’s shirtless,his chest painted in shades of purples, blacks, and yellows, bruise upon bruise. He’s not moving.
“Doc,” I hiss, my voice raw from lack of use.How long have we been here?Time has lost all meaning in this hellhole.
No reply.
“Doc, wake up!” I hiss as I rattle against my cuffs, testing for some leverage to see if I can escape. They hold fast. My shoulders scream in protest as I use all of my strength. They don’t budge.
Doc doesn’t move. Shit. That’s not good. I wonder how long we’ve been unconscious for. If they hit Doc too hard and there’s swelling on his brain, he might not make it.
“Doc, wake up!” I plead. “We’ve been through too much shit for you to die on me now. Come on, man, don’t you dare do this to me. You’re tougher than this. Don’t leave me here alone.”
Nothing.
Panic starts to creep in.
“Fuck!” I bellow in frustration, fruitlessly fighting against my restraints.
My screams attract someone’s attention as I hear heavy booted footsteps approaching, followed by the unmistakable sound of the door being unlocked. It creaks open, and the man from before with the broken nose appears, holding his rifle with both hands. “Well, look who’s finally woken up. The Prez is gonna be happy.”
He strolls over, getting closer, unafraid and cocksure. I’d like to see him be so confident without these cuffs. He holds the gun loosely in his hands.
“Please, can you check if my friend is breathing? He’s not moving,” I ask, anxiously looking over at Doc. “Zeke won’t be happy if you’ve killed him before he gets what he wants from us.”
I only wish I knew what that was. Other than the pleasure of breaking us, of breaking our bond with Lena, with each other.
The man frowns, eyeing me warily, but he does as I ask. He steps over to Doc, nudging him with his boot, then prodding him with his gun to check he’s not faking before putting his gun to one side and kneeling to check Doc’s pulse. “Still alive. He’s breathing,” the man grunts, looking over at me.
