My wins are her wins.
“Baby,” I whisper. She tries to move but can’t. She’s so out of it from the drugs that I’m not sure she knows what’s real.
“Brielle, baby.” I lean forward and press my lips to hers. They are dry, not the soft lips I remember. My eyes fill with tears, but they don’t fall. She wouldn’t want me to cry.
“I’ll get us out of here, baby. Please hold on for me. Please.” It’s like she can’t hear me. “I love yo—” Something stabs into my neck.
I look back and see Peter there, another syringe in his hand.
“Now, why would you lie to her? Neither of you are leaving.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before I fall to the ground, Brielle’s hand slipping from mine. Maybe praying to a God I don’t believe in to take us now would be our best bet, because there’s no living without her.
There’s nothing without her.
47
BRIELLE
I thought I saw him.
But it wasn’t real. Nothing feels real anymore.
Hours pass before my mind clears even a little, and still I can’t shake the image of Emris—of him standing there, solid and breathing. The drugs blur everything, mushing my thoughts until I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.
They told me he was dead, so if I saw him, there must be something wrong with me. That’s what they want me to believe.
My mind is turning on itself, replaying his face over and over again until it hurts. I slam my eye shut, willing it away, but it lingers. Too vivid to be a damn dream.
I’m not religious. I have never been, but I still beg. I beg for it to stop. For someone to help, for something to break through this fog.
But nothing answers.
No God. No voice. Fucking nothing.
My wristsache from the restraints, and the more I move, the tighter they seem to get. Susie’s sitting in a chair next to my cot, her knee bouncing a mile a minute until she notices me.
“Finally. Now we can get this shit over with,” she sighs, getting up from her chair and leaving the room. My limbs feel weak. Weaker than they’ve ever been. If I tried to stand right now, I’d fall to the ground, no doubt about it.
A few minutes later, Susie and a man in a lab coat enter. He doesn’t look at my body like all the other men do. The nurse, I think.
“Let’s begin,” he says, pulling up the chair Susie was using. His hand grips my thighs, and I try my hardest to keep them closed as fear makes its way into my body.
“W-what the hell are you doing? Who are you?!” I try to raise my voice, but it feels like I swallowed sandpaper.
“I’m checking to see if you’re a virgin or not,” he says nonchalantly, before grabbing my thighs harder and trying to force them apart. “This can be quick and easy or rough and painful. It’s up to you.” When I don’t cooperate, he sighs. Rough straps wrap around my thighs, securing them open with the help from Susie and another guard.
“Fuck. You.”
He only shrugs before his fingers find my opening. “Done. Not a virgin.” He takes his gloves off, tossing them in a trash can.
I lay there shocked.What the fuck?
“How many partners have you had?”
I keep my mouth closed, and he doesn’t waste any more time. He removes the straps from my thighs, gets up, and leaves the room without another word.
“Insufferable little girl,” Susie huffs, rounding the cot and grabbing a key from her pocket. The cuffs on my wrists fall off, and they scream in relief, followed by the ones on my ankles.
