Tierney
Nights and daysblurred together through the haze of my turmoil, so I wasn’t exactly aware when it was that Achilles took me from the hospital.
At some point, strong arms fastened around me. I was put in a wheelchair. I kept my eyes closed, refusing to cooperate.
When he wheeled me out to a waiting vehicle, I let my eyes flutter open momentarily. It was dark outside. The whispers of autumn licked at my skin. I must’ve been hospitalized for at least a couple of weeks.
He placed my limp body in the passenger seat and rolled the window all the way down. Then he drove through the pitch-black night on desolate roads, passing woods, rolling hills, and even the ocean at one point. The brine from the water teased my nostrils, awakening something in me. A primal sense of being present somewhere beautiful.
The mystical silence, the gentle touch of a silvery moon, and the sharp fragrance of fall pleased me, bringing me back, even if momentarily, from my misery.
Fucker. How dare he?
He knew what he was doing.
Achilles didn’t say one word the entire drive. I didn’t ask how long it was or where we were going, but when we arrived, dawn broke across the horizon in gorgeous pinks and blues.
I wondered if this was a part of a meticulous plan. To show me the sunrise. To remind me that the world could be heartachingly beautiful, despite all the ugly things it harbored.
As always, he didn’t ask. He took. That was all I needed in order to know Achilles hadn’t changed. Not really. He still thought he could control every aspect of my life.
He parked in front of a solitary cabin so close to shore it looked like it could be swept away by one big wave. I didn’t know what state we were in, let alone what town. It seemed remote, if not completely deserted.
Achilles rounded the car, opened my door, and lifted me up. My eyes were open, but he knew better than to take that as an invitation to talk to me.
Prowling the short walk to the house, he kicked the unlocked door open and marched inside. I couldn’t muster enough interest to look at the place. I let him put me in a bed and turned my back to him.
Then I fell asleep, praying to never wake up.
____________
I did wake up, despite my prayers.
I wasn’t surprised nor disappointed. If there was God, He’d made it clear He did not take mercy on me.
I woke up crying to the memory of five men mounting me.
They were fully clothed, all unbuckled, and I was naked, on the snow.
I must’ve fought them in my sleep, same way I did in the camp, because my blankets were tossed to the floor and my limbs were in disarray.
I could feel the sharp bite of the cold against my back, even though when I looked around, the room was nice and toasty.
I couldn’t remember the last time I ate or felt the sunlight over my skin and felt little desire to provide my body with either. But I did need to pee, so I kicked off the suffocating pressure socks Achilles had put me in and treaded barefoot around the small, one-story house. I found the bathroom adjoined to the living room and another bedroom down the hall. This must have been where Achilles was staying. As I shoved my underwear down my knees and squatted to pee in the toilet, I wondered if waking up to go to the bathroom was a positive sign.
I wasn’t wearing the hospital gown anymore; now I wore comfy sweatpants and an oversized sweater, and I smelled of a basic soap and toothpaste.
That meant Achilles did wash me and probably cleaned my bodily fluids.
I waited for the shame and embarrassment to torment me, but they never came. Whatever consumed me stripped me of my pride, as well as my will to live, and I no longer cared.
When I finished peeing and flushed the toilet, I found no motivation to wash my hands, let alone make the journey back to my room.
Sitting on the cold toilet, however, didn’t seem too appealing either.
I slithered down to the floor, curled into a ball, and cried into my chest until I fell asleep again.
Chapter Forty-One
