I got the call after eight at night to get myself to Whisper’s room ASAP.
What the hell is going on now?
Anybody else could have been summoned, but I was still paying for my insubordination. Grunting and groaning I get myself dressed, going commando, and swallow a couple Ibuprofen before making my way to stall thirteen. I can hear a loud banging and hasten my pace, the movement irritating my ass until it feels like I’m sitting in a blazing fire pit.
What the hell is the little rabbit doing in her room to draw attention to herself with all that pounding?
I reach her door and the banging stops. I turn the handle and expect the door to open freely, but it doesn’t. I’m met with resistance, which makes me use muscles I didn’t want to use at the moment as I curse. I put my shoulder into pushing the door open and hear a dragging sound, until I can get through it.
“Dritt!” I lapse into Norwegian for the word shit when I see why the door had to be shoved hard to open. “Whisper?” She is lying in only her underwear at an awkward angle, slumped across the floor, her hair covering her face, and she’s not moving.
Has she been raped?
I’m going to have to bend down to assess her, and that is going to hurt like a bitch. I take a knee, sweat breaking out on my body from the pain I’m in. I need those pills to kick in, not that they’ll do much. “Little rabbit?” I raise my voice, knowing the camera can’t pick up sound. Chances are Cezar is dipping his hand into a bowl of popcorn, watching the silent show we’re giving him, so I have to still be careful of my actions.
I feel the back of her head, massaging the large egg that has formed, but there’s no blood.
Was she banging her head on her door?
I brush her hair away from her face. Her skin is ashen and she’s out cold. Her chest is rising and falling, and her underwear is intact... thank fuck. I see no evidence of rape and hope I’m right. I touch her shoulder and give her a gentle shake. “Little rabbit?” She doesn’t respond.
Fuck!
I get to my feet, come around behind her, yank her up, my hands under her arm pits, and drag her limp body away from the back of the door. Sweat is dripping down my face. She’s not heavy. I’m just hitting an eleven on the one-to-ten scale of pain.
I lay her onto her bed and seek out her clothes, which are over by the far wall, picking them up. It looks like she took them off herself, because nothing is torn. There are blood spots, but that would be my blood. I come back over to where she lays just as Cezar strolls through with purpose.
“I saw her having a meltdown in the surveillance room,” he states.
Meltdown? Thank fuck not rape.
“She faking it?” he inquires.
Yeah, fitte tryne, fuckface. She’s faking it. What she’s been through in the past couple weeks alone deserves a meltdown. Not to mention her whole life has been one big fucked-up psychiatrist’s wet dream.
He looks at me for an answer.
“I don’t believe so.” Asshole.
“Where’s your mask?” he snaps. Fuck. I forgot to put one back on. “Here.” He pulls one from his suit pocket. He must have grabbed a spare after seeing me in here without one on, but I’m the least of his worries at the moment. “You’re lucky she hasn’t seen your face.” He observes the sweat on my face. He knows I’m hurting. “An allowance is made for your previous punishment. Just don’t forget again.”
I place the mask on while he bends down close to her face. “Let me inspect her myself.” I hold my tongue, because I don’t want him anywhere near her while she’s in her underwear. He opens her eyes, checking to see if anybody is home.
Nobody is home.
He pulls his phone out. “Rose. Come. Stall thirteen now!” He looks at me as he puts his phone away. “This is unfortunate. I saw her banging her head against the back of the door, and then she was roaring something like a crazy person before she appears to have blacked out.”
Don’t even get me started on who the crazy person is here. What does he expect?
He puts his hands behind his back. “Seems she may not be as strong as my Rose, after all. Her previous master had kept her captive for twenty years.” He pauses for effect. “I may have, as they say, broken the camel’s back.” He sniffles a little with exasperation.
Rose arrives, looking like she’s just woken up. Her tank top is stuck to her back and there’s blood stained on it. She needs her dressings changed. Rose doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s back in Terminator mode, her defenses strong.
“Rose, as you can see, we have a little problem.” He waves his hand toward Whisper’s prone body. “The girl appears to have had a small breakdown. See what you can do for her. If she’s decided to become a vegetable, then I’ll find a use for her.” He sounds too perplexed by the situation to know which way to behave. “I can’t be another female down,” he mutters to himself. He obviously has never had a girl lose it before—probably because they never had a past like Whisper.
Whisper nearly lost her tongue and had been forced to cane me. She never became a robot after the life she led; she retained her humanity. But Cezar thinks this means she won’t be pushed over the edge... but has she?
He keeps all the girls malleable with a workout, three meals a day, and the calming therapy of coloring books. He doesn’t rock their boat unless their behavior warrants rocking. That fucking booklet has them brainwashed into thinking they will walk out that door to freedom at the end of his event.
How can one man have so much power?
Rose sits on the bed and shakes Whisper like she’s a ragdoll. I’m worried about her neck. Rose is back to behaving like a soulless robot, simply following orders.
“Not so rough,” Cezar croons. “If she’s still in good working order, I don’t need her neck broken.” Rose stops the shaking and motions she wants a water bottle.
He holds up two fingers. “Go bring two back.” She leaves. He turns his attention to me. “Was I wrong to bring you into my fold, Mathias?”
Shit, where is this going?
“No, sir. I faltered. It won’t happen again.” He keeps watching me. I want to look away, but I hold his eyes, determined not to wind up buried somewhere. I have to see this through, for Whisper and Rose.
Rose arrives with two bottles of water, taking a little longer than expected, her back to me. Some more of her bandages are now newly soaked with blood. What did she just do? Her face is flushed, and it looks as though some of her stitches have torn. I see out the corner of my eye Kane walking past the open doorway looking in, smiling.
Kuksuger!
What did he just do to her? My eyes flit all over her body, trying to work out what has just gone down, apart from what I can see. She’s not letting anything on. Why is he even here? Rose hands a bottle to Cezar, making sure her back is kept out of his eyesight.
“If she wakes up and is coherent, you will both become her friend. I don’t care if you color with her or play charades—in fact, that would amuse me to no end—but the both of you are going to spend time with her in shifts every day, babysitting that poor, neglected soul of hers. She will believe she has people in here. You will be her frenemies.” He grins stupidly at himself. “Whisper is my trophy, and I can’t have her losing her mind just two weeks before the event.” He twists the top off the bottle and soaks her head with it until the last drop falls, wetting her bed.
Whisper’s body starts to respond, so he continues, “Give her the other bottle to drink. We may have neglected her feeding schedule today. Rose, go get her something to eat. Food might recharge her batteries, and then you can return to your stall. Mathias will have first shift.” Rose leaves, carefully angling her body away from Cezar.
“Mathias, call me in fifteen minutes reporting her condition, and I’ll have worked a time schedule out between you and Rose.” He watches Whisper slowly open her eyes. She’s staring ahead, unseeing, her big brown eyes very lost. She doesn’t see the monster standing before her.
Cezar points to me then makes a chopping motion with both hands. “Aaand... action!” And with that parting smartass comment, Cezar leaves.
I go shut the door, allowing me a small amount of privacy to speak with Whisper and gauge her condition. At the same time, I worry about Rose and what happened to her with Kane.
“Whisper?” She doesn’t respond to her name. She just keeps staring ahead, a blank look on her face. “Little rabbit, I know you’re in there,” I speak in hushed tones.
“Don’t let this beat you. I’m okay. Rose is okay.” I know she can hear me. I need to stay positive, or Cezar could quite possibly execute her before I can save her.
I wave my hand in front of her face and watch her slowly blink. She just needs time to find herself again. She’s been overloaded with too much, and her mind is now cocooning her.
“Honey, you’ve got me in here.” I tap her head, careful of the camera, careful of the door opening, careful to keep my voice lowered. I want to tell her I’m on her side. I’m the good guy in wolf’s clothing, but I can’t.
I pull her forward and slide in behind her so she’s nestled against my chest, her body limp and unresponsive. Her eyes open, but nobody home.
My ass is on fire. I swipe the sweat from my face as I angle myself onto my side, grunting through the horrendous pain.
I’ll feed her once Rose comes back. I’ll be her best frenemy in Cezar’s eyes. He just won’t know how much I want to play the part. Kane or any of the other sentinels, I wouldn’t trust her with. Rose can’t talk to her, but she is female, and better Rose than Kane.
Cezar called Action, so let the show begin.