Evan pushes a tray over to her side and starts an IV in the crook of her arm, then hangs a banana bag on a hook.
“What the fuck is that for?” Garrett demands.
“Epinephrine,” Evan answers, and Garrett arches a brow in question. “Adrenaline. There are higher risks when administering it this way, but…”
“Give me a syringe and I’ll stab her in the heart with it,” Garrett interrupts him.
Evan looks nervous for a second. “A shot of adrenaline straight to theheart will only last maybe twenty minutes before she passes out. I’m diluting it some and giving her less this way, but it will last longer.”
“Fuck,” I growl, shifting in the seat again.
“Hmm.” Garrett nods his approval.
Evan grabs a piece of sandpaper and walks over to Eve. He starts to rub it over her right hip. She comes alive, thrashing on the table as much as she can. Mumbled cries and screams fill the room, and spit flies from the hole in the mouthpiece.
Evan scrubs and scrubs until he’s rubbed the area raw. When it starts bleeding, he’s satisfied and tosses it to the floor, then picks up a knife.
I put my free hand over my mouth when he starts to cut three lines vertically over her hip. Blood pours down her side and onto the table.
She shakes uncontrollably, and her muscles flex.
“What is this for?” Garrett asks, looking over the marks on her skin.
“This is her number. It’s a reminder of where she once was and where she can always be sent back to,” Evan answers. He then unscrews a lid to a white bottle that he grabbed from underneath the cabinet and pours it over her bloody skin.
She arches her back and neck, screaming through the mouthpiece.
“What was that?” Garrett demands.
“Sulfuric acid,” Evan answers, and I tense.
“Won’t that burn her?” Garrett questions. “She’ll be hard to sell if she’s got burn marks all over her skin. You’ve already rubbed it raw,” he growls.
Evan walks over to the sink and fills a cup with water. “It’s just a warning,” he states and then walks back over to a struggling Eve to flush the wound. “It’ll heal.”
Her frail body violently shakes, making the table rattle.
Once satisfied the wound is clean, he rubs salt into it before placing a large bandage over it.
I let out a shaky breath. A part of me hates to see her in pain. The other tells me that it was smart to help with infection. Either way, it should never have happened to begin with.
Evan removes the IV and picks up a roll of duct tape, tossing it to the kid. “I want her arms behind her back. Tight as you can.”
“Yes sir.” The kid nods.
He goes to work unbuckling her restraints. She immediately starts to kick and fight.
Garrett helps with the last two belts, rips her off the table, and shoves her to the floor. It wasn’t hard. The poor thing has no senses and is weak.
He pushes her onto her stomach, grabs her arms, and pins them behind her back. He holds them up at an angle, and I bite my inner cheek, hoping he doesn’t break her fucking arms. I remember Bill and Devin telling us that she had a broken wrist that Devin had to re-break because it hadn’t healed properly. But no one ever gave us an estimate of when it was initially broken.
Thankfully, the kid works fast, starting at the top of her arms, and wraps the tape all the way down to both wrists. He rips the tape and stands. So does Garrett.
They all three watch her kick and squirm while she lies naked on the floor. I know her wound hurts, and she rolls onto her back, trying to relieve the pressure on her freshly carved hip.
She’s covered in sweat and gasping for breath through the small hole in the mouthpiece.
“Sir?” the kid asks Evan. “What would you like me to do with her?”
