Winger is standing off to the side, but I can’t make myself look at him. He’s probably enjoying my discomfort. I know I would be if the shoe were on the other foot.
I have to hold onto the top of the door for a few seconds until I know my legs will hold me up. He waits me out, then finally closes the door behind me. I shuffle toward the elevator, barely picking up my feet as I move.
Winger covers his hand as he enters another code into the pin pad. Frankly, I’m surprised he even allowed me to see the building he’s keeping me in. Maybe it means he knows it won’t matter because he’s not planning on letting me live.
The doors open immediately, and I step inside without prompting. It may be dumb, but I’m past the point of caring right now. I feel like shit, and I want to lie down, maybe even sleep for the next week.
I lean my shoulder against the wall and let out a small huff when the muscles in my abdomen engage. I know it doesn’t go unnoticed, because Winger snaps his head in my direction as if I just farted.
I close my eyes and breathe through the pain.
“Come on,” he says gruffly before the door even opens, wrapping his arm around my back for support. I hate how badly I want to lean on him, but I do it anyway just so I can get to bed quicker…or that’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
Cheryl is standing in the kitchen when we enter the apartment, as if she jumped up when she heard him unlocking the door. Her mouth opens to speak, but he cuts her off with a single word, “Wait,” then leads me back to the same room, where I eagerly sit on the bed with his help.
“Thank you,” I mumble like a dejected child.
He doesn’t even acknowledge my gratitude or how hard it is to be appreciative of someone holding you prisoner. I give his back a double finger salute the moment the door clicks closed, leaving me alone.
WINGER
I don’t think I have ever met a more infuriating female in my life. Her tongue could slice a fucking statue. Every time I speak to her, she gets more hostile, so then why the fuck am I so concerned with her well-being? If I were smart, I would get someone else over here to make her give up the information I need, but even the thought makes me irrationally angry.She’s already suffered enough.It’s thoughts like that which make me want to punch myself in the face.
“Have you heard anything?” I question Cheryl after motioning for her to follow me to the other side of the apartment, so we aren’t overheard by Maxine.
“Just got her results. There was definitely some internal bleeding, so she’s probably going to be black and blue soon if she isn’t already, but everything looked intact on the scan. She’ll be sore for a while and need at least another round of antibiotics, but she should make a full recovery.”
I take in a deep breath, feeling relief that should not belong to me. “How long are we talking before she’s fully recovered?” I need to know when she’s going to get serious about escaping. There’s no doubt she’ll try sooner or later, and I’m betting it will be the former.
“It’s hard to say without knowing her and her level of pain tolerance, but it’s safe to assume she’ll be moving around, without help, in the next thirty-six hours. I don’t think she’ll be signing up for any marathons, but she will be functioning.”
“All right, make sure I have the shit she needs, like pain pills and antibiotics, and then you can go.”
Cheryl’s eyebrows rise to her hairline. “Y-You’re going to take care of her?” she stutters.
I clench my teeth and let her see I have no plan of answering her question or any others she might ask. That’s not how this works, and she should know that.
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I’ll write down my instructions.”
I close myself in the other bedroom, giving her a chance to do her thing and clear out. When I hear the door to the apartment close softly, I hop up from the bed and peek out into the living room.
Cheryl is gone, and there are a couple pill bottles on the counter, as well as a small piece of paper. My eyes go to the other closed door. I don’t fight the nagging urge to make sure she’s still in the room, but I do try to be as quiet as possible so she won’t notice I’m looking in on her like I actually am taking care of her.
Maxine’s feet, still in shoes, are hanging off the bed as she’s curled up on her side, facing away from the door. I get a small kick to my gut. I should have known she wouldn’t be able to get her shoes off alone, since Cheryl helped her get them on.
I push the door open a little more and slowly walk in. Reaching for her heel, I watch her face for a reaction, but she seems to be sleeping. The first shoe slips off without incident, not even an eye flutter, but the second I grab the other, she flips onto her back in a bid to escape me, then hisses while grabbing her stomach.
I don’t apologize, even though it’s on the tip of my tongue to do so. Her eyes are wide as she stares up at the ceiling, and I swear it looks like she’s trying not to cry with the way her bottom lip quivers. I have to look away. “I’m just taking off your shoe,” I tell her before reaching for her foot again. She doesn’t fight me. In fact, it looks like it’s taking everything out of her to keep her breathing shallow and even.
I leave the room after placing her shoes by the door and grab two pills. I haven’t read the instructions yet, but it’s not going to kill her to have a couple. “Here.” I extend the medicine to her, then open the bottle of water for her once she slams her palm over her mouth, not even questioning what I’m giving her.
She looks up at me, and without taking the water, just swallows hard. I don’t think she wants to move right now, which I understand. I place the bottle on the bedside table and leave her alone for a while but keep the door open.
A good hour passes before I hear the floor creak. I move to the edge of my seat, ready to get to the door before her if she thinks she might escape, but she just pokes her head out and looks around, stopping when her eyes land on me.
“I need the bathroom,” she announces, then drops her eyes from mine as if she’s embarrassed. I rise and walk toward her. She doesn’t shy away from me, but this time, she doesn’t seem quite so defiant, or maybe I’m just overthinking her subdued posture.
“Right here.” I push open the door to the main bathroom and lean in to turn on the light, then I press my back against the apartment door, making a clear statement that I plan to wait right here for her.
