He stands from the bed and walks away from me. There’s a door at the far end of the room that he pushes open, revealing alavatory inside. From what I can see from here, it’s much nicer than what I’m used to.
The one at the facility was cold and dark, with sterile white tiles covering the walls and the floor. There was a bathroom with a toilet, and a drain in the center to collect the water from the showers.
He kneels behind a large cream-colored tub. He turns on a stream of water and holds his hand under it.
I’m suddenly aware that I could run away. I could dash to the door and find my way out of the house and escape before any of them have a chance to catch me. I’ve done it before, escaping guards that are far scarier than any of them. But even as the thought crosses my mind, the familiar clawing I felt all these years whimpers inside me. Like it’s sad about leaving.
I don’t know why, but I tell myself I can trust that. I’m still wary of this house and everyone in it, and of their intentions toward me. But right now, I go with this feeling in my gut and decide to stay.
The man walks back out of the bathroom toward me, gently holding out a hand. “I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt you. You’ll soon realize why. But right now, this bath will help you a lot.”
I hesitate for a moment before taking his hand. He helps me stand, and I’m acutely aware of being naked in front of him. But that’s only a momentary feeling before my legs practically give out under my weight.
He rushes forward to catch me so I don’t fall, and my entire body tenses. “It’s okay,” he assures me as he wraps his arm around my waist and guides me toward the bathroom.
I follow, in spite of every part of myself screaming that I shouldn’t trust this.
Once we’re in the bathroom, he lifts me effortlessly and lowers me slowly into the tub, until the warm water engulfs me.It’s the perfect temperature. Not hot enough to scald my skin or irritate any of my wounds, and not too cold. There are some suds and bubbles, and I smell a pleasant floral scent that makes it all the more inviting.
“It’s nice, right?” he asks, sitting on the tile beside the tub. “My sister is really big on bath oils and things like that. She makes them all herself, and it’s her default gift around the holidays.”
“Holidays?” I wrinkle my eyebrows.
“Like birthdays and Christmas,” he answers with a shrug. When that doesn’t clear anything up for me, he wrinkles his eyebrows. “You know what that is, right?”
I don’t say anything, and I suppose that’s enough of an answer.
He grabs a circular blue sponge from a hook on the wall and covers it in some kind of liquid, squeezing it around until more suds form. He reaches for my shoulder tenderly and brushes it against me.
I look down as dirt that has been clinging to my skin is washed away, revealing the pale white underneath.
“What happened to you?” he asks, his green eyes landing on mine. “Who are you? You don’t seem to know about a lot of things. Common things that everyone knows.”
I don’t say anything. I just look down at the water.
“Can you tell us where you came from? Who hurt you?” he continues asking. I still don’t reply. “I know it’s got to be hard for you to trust us. And I’m sure you have a good reason. We can help you, but only if you tell us what brought you to the woods.”
He waits a moment like he’s expecting me to fill in the silence. A part of me wonders if I should, but an even bigger part thinks that all of this could just be a trap.
What if they let me get away? What if this is some test that I’ll fail the moment my confession slips from my lips?
I can’t risk that. “My name is Zeke, by the way,” he says after a few moments of silence. “Can you at least tell me what your name is?”
I don’t plan to answer. The less these people know about me, the better. But then again, what can knowing my name really hurt?
“Addison.” The word feels strange on my lips. I haven’t heard it in ages. I’ve been referred to as “the patient” or “the girl” for far too long.
Even though I’m afraid, I tell him because a part of me, deep down, trusts him. I can’t explain why, and the thought of that is unnerving. How am I supposed to trust anyone if I can’t even trust my own feelings?
Chapter 4
Zeke
Addison standsin the tub with water dripping down her body. It’s hard not to look at her right now. With her skin clean, I can see just how beautiful she is under all of the dirt.
I wrap her in a towel as quickly as I can. I’m sure being covered gives her some comfort, too.
She is still so weak, I practically have to lift her out of the tub. I’m not sure if it’s from the drugs or running, but regardless, I’m going to do everything in my power to bring her back to good health.
