He’s followed by a buff man in a wifebeater, whose arms are about twice as big as my torso. He could give Igor a run for his money, only he isn’t as short, and he doesn’t have the cruel gleam in his eye that tells me he would like nothing better than to dismember me, slowly.
Still, I wonder for a moment if this man is going to beat me up, perhaps force some false confession out of me. I have vague memories of the mysterious chip Logan spoke of, which was clearly not of the edible variety.
However, this man doesn’t look the least bit dangerous. He wears a sparkling smile that tells me he spends more time on his appearance than on beating people up.
“This is Bradley,” says Everest, and the name, if nothing else, confirms my hunch. “He’s my coach, and he’s going to help you work out.”
I nearly laugh at the idea, it sounds so absurd. But instead, bitterness chokes me. The embarrassing, incomprehensible truth is that Damien is the only person I want, and the two people standing before me feel like betrayal. Their presence is a stark reminder of the man who is absent. They enrage me, especially Bradley andhis smug grin. I wish I had the guts to punch those sparkling white teeth of his, but I get the feeling that Everest, for all his gentle ways, wouldn’t let that happen. He’s still a Devil, after all.
“Come on,” says Everest, directing me to a door that’s always been locked.
I hesitate for just an instant, wondering whether I’m allowed to go in there, but perversity squashes my doubts. If I break a rule, maybe Damien will come. I don’t care anymore about making him angry. I just want to see him.
We go through the door and find ourselves in a very small workout space with just a few machines. Bradley eyes the room disapprovingly, then shrugs. He probably knows better than to object.
Soon, I’m being guided through a very boring workout. Both of them seem surprised at how strong I am. I have no trouble doing the exercises Bradley tells me to do. By the time we’re through, I haven’t even broken a sweat, and my heartbeat remains steady.
“I’ll have to think up a more intense workout for you,” says Bradley, visibly impressed.
I don’t answer, just bite down on the rage that is still strangling my chest. I’ve always seethed with a nearly overwhelming anger, but I’ve mostly managed to keep it under the surface. In my world, you don’t get very far when you show your emotions. So I exist silently, carefully, but the anger is always there.
Repressing that anger takes strength. Doing fifty push-ups is nothing.
Besides, something else has been on my mind ever since Everest showed up. A thought I keep pushing away, because it’s stupid, it makes no sense, it’s embarrassing. And yet, the thought gets increasingly persistent as the workout progresses.
So much so that by the time we return to my apartment, and Everest and Bradley head back to the front door, I can’t help but blurt out:
“Wait.”
Everest pauses at the door.
“Yeah?”
I can tell he doesn’t enjoy having to drag out this process. This process of locking the door once more in my face.
“Wait.”
This time, he doesn’t say anything. He just waits.
“Please… please tell Damien that I did want it,” I breathe, then flush painfully.
The words are terribly hard to get out, but I need Damien to know it. Just in case that’s the reason he hasn’t come back since the kiss I didn’t reciprocate.
“I want it. I want him. I want him to come see me.” The words break out of me, and I regret them the moment I see Everest’s confused expression. I suddenly realize how crazy it is to think that Damien was the least bit affected by my inability to kiss him back. He kidnapped me, after all. It’s far more likely he regrets the kiss itself.
Everest nods, suddenly understanding.
“I will,” he promises. Then the door shuts and the key turns once more in the lock.
I’m alone again.
-
Hours of boredom pass, mingling with the crushing shame of what I’ve done. I’ve opened myself up, shown vulnerability, to a man who doesn’t care. Who probably finds me pathetic.
By the time the clock tells me it’s 9 p.m., I’m already getting ready for bed. I don’t have much else to do these days, especially since I got that note with the order to wake up at 7 a.m. I know better than to disobey, even though it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.
So I brush my teeth, wash my face, undress, and lie down in bed. I stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to sink into sleep, but all I feel is boredom tinged with shame. Frustrated, I turn onto my side.
