Sweat coated my skin. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stumbled out of the bathroom without bothering to flush the toilet.
As I passed the bedroom door, I tried opening it again. The knob still didn’t move.
“Assholes,” I said under my breath.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been locked in. My mind tended to drift, something that had started happening with increasing frequency since waking up from my moonshine binge. Trapped as I was with nothing to do but lay in bed and stare at the walls and nailed-shut windows, it was no wonder, really. Yet, despite the drifting, I felt certain at least a day had passed.
Out of boredom and sickness, I’d fallen asleep twice. It had been dark the last time I’d woken from a dream of my mom. She’d come to me, materializing out of the darkness, to comfort me because even in my sleep, I hadn’t been able to escape the way my middle cramped and my body ached.
I could still feel the echo of Mom’s dream-hand stroking my hair and hear her whispering for me to be strong. She’d told me I would survive. I was meant to live.
After waking from that dream, I’d curled into a ball and sobbed, hating that she’d felt so real. More so, I hated that I’d been pulled away from the comfort I so desperately wanted, something I hadn’t had since the day she died.
Reaching the bed, I collapsed on the mattress and gave up trying to remember. I didn’t honestly care that it was light outside now. I hurt and was thirsty, but the only thing I wanted to drink wasn’t available to me.
With the exception of the magical appearance of food-filled bowls on my bedside table, Emily and Merdon left me alone. That suited me just fine. Other than dumping the peace offerings into the toilet along with my steady contribution of bile, I stayed in bed.
So I lay there, shaking, waiting for the time to pass and my misery to end, one way or another.
My mind started to drift again.
An image of my mother appeared in the corner of my room. She was smiling and waving for me to join her. Behind her, I saw the kitchen of our family home. My hands twitched on the covers. I wanted to throw them back so badly and help her bake cookies.
The image wavered, and my mom and the kitchen changed. This time, she was motioning for me to stay. It was a scene I remembered well. Her clothes were dirty, and the dimly lit kitchen was a mess. She was telling Katie and me to stay put while she snuck over to see if the neighbor, the one my dad had killed, had any food.
I shook my head, feeling the tears gather.
“Don't go,” I whispered.
“I won't.”
The words didn't match her lips, which were mouthing, "I'll be right back. Stay quiet and stay together."
I trembled as she turned her back on me and faded into nothing. Tears made slow treks down my cheeks. Everyone always left. Even me.
For a while, there was just a wall to stare at.
Then, Katie appeared. She was kneeling beside a bed, moving jerkily.
“No,” I said loudly.
I curled into a ball, covering my head with my arms, and rocked and trembled. I didn’t want to see that memory.
“Not that one,” I panted. “Anything but that one.”
Again, the dream of running through the trees returned, and I relived every terror-filled moment. Knowing how it would end made re-experiencing the moments before even more painful. I wanted to yell at myself to keep going, to push Katie ahead of me, or maybe to try climbing a tree. This dream didn’t allow me any such kindness, though. It was no more than I deserved. So, I relived abandoning my sister, over and over, the pain cutting deeper and deeper into my soul.
I sobbed.
My mom returned again with her gentle hand smoothing over my sweat-slicked curls.
“Be strong. You will live.”
I knew I would live, and that was my shame. I didn’t deserve life.
“I don’t want to live,” I whispered. “I want to die.”
The hand stilled.
“That’s no longer a choice you can make.”
She was right. Emily and Merdon had taken that from me.
“Soon,” I whispered.
“Never.”
The voice was right and wrong at the same time. Like the mismatched lips. I wished I could see her instead of just feel her.
Sighing, I waited for the memory and some of the pain to fade. When it did, so did her hand.
Exhausted, sick, and mind-numb from all the thoughts I didn’t want to think, I almost missed the sound of the door opening. I shifted my gaze, wondering if this moment was real, and watched Emily as she entered and coughed lightly before covering her nose.
She left the door open behind her and moved toward the bathroom.
I pushed off my covers and forced myself to my feet. Freedom beckoned.
The toilet flushed, and I hurried toward the door. Just before I reached it, tall, dark, and pain-in-my-ass filled the space.
He stared at me impassively and crossed his arms.
I stretched my lips in a silent snarl, turned around, and crawled right back into bed. He continued to watch me, so I rolled over and gave him my back.
Didn’t he have anywhere else to be?
There was a scrape of noise on my bedside table then footsteps retreating.
“She’s not drinking or eating,” Emily said softly. “I think she’s giving up.”
“If she was giving up, she wouldn’t still be trying to leave.”
The door closed on the rest of Merdon’s words. Was he right? Was I not really giving up? I wanted to. I’d jumped off the damn roof, hadn’t I? What more did I need to do to leave the pain of what I’d done behind?
Merdon abruptly entered my room again, a glass in one hand.
“You need to drink.”
Without waiting for my response, he slid an arm under my shoulder and brought the cup to my lips as he braced me up.
I kept my lips closed as I glared at him.
“You can do it yourself,” he said in a deadly whisper, “or I can force you. Your choice.”
I glared at him, my mouth firmly closed.
His expression shifted slightly, almost as if he was glad I was resisting. Then, he dumped most of the water right in my face.
I sputtered and swore at him. The glass clanked against my teeth, and water flooded my mouth. Faced with a choice of swallow or drown, I swallowed. Damn him.
He didn’t let up, continuing his attempt to drown me until the water was gone. He straightened abruptly, letting me fall back onto the bed as I choked and gasped. Our gazes locked as I caught my air, and I made a noise between a hiss and a growl, ready to flip off his retreating form. He didn’t give me the opportunity. Rather than leave, he sat in the chair, not far from my bed.
His angry gaze held mine.
“That water will stay in you. If it doesn’t, I will do that again and again until it does stay. Do you understand, Hannah? I won’t play your game. You will drink.”
I hadn’t spoken since they’d locked me in here, but Merdon’s antagonistic words tempted me to break my silence. However, even if I had the balls to tell him to screw himself, after his little display of force, I knew better than to provoke him further.
Since the quakes, I’d learned a lot about myself and other people. Most had wanted pleasantness and smiles even in the face of complete desolation. They’d wanted to be lulled and lied to. It made them feel better, a false sense of security and normalcy.
Giving people what they needed gave me a certain level of power. I just needed to wait and figure out what it was that Merdon needed. Then I would be the one with the power.
If he thought he had patience, I had more.
Turning my back to him, I closed my eyes. It was bad enough being locked in my room, alone and with nothing to do. I didn’t need the additional misery of Merdon’s presence or the water in my stomach.
My middle cramped painfully and a pre-puke burp escaped me. I started breathing fast through my mouth, doing everything I could to keep it down. I did not want a repeat performance of the forced drinking process.
After a time, the cramping in my middle eased, and I swallowed hard. Merdon remained quiet behind me. So quiet that I was tempted to turn around and see if he was still here. I knew better than to give in to the temptation. He wouldn’t win. I wouldn’t let him.
When the door opened again, the lighting in the room had changed.
“Two glasses of water this time,” Emily said quietly. “I think we should have Cassie look at her.”
I wanted to snort. What the hell would Cassie do? By her own admission, she had only been a nurse in training before the quakes. She couldn’t even figure out what kind of sleeping pill to give me.
Merdon grunted. Why the hell couldn’t he just say “yes” or “no” like a normal person?
“Hannah, are you going to sit up and drink, or do I need to help you?” he asked instead.
Stubbornly, I didn’t move.
“Leave, Emily,” he said softly.
The door closed, and I braced myself, waiting for his arm under my shoulders. It never came.
Fingers clamped down on my jaw, digging into my cheeks with enough force that I unwillingly opened for him. Water gushed into my mouth and up my nose.
“I warned you,” he said as I choked and spluttered.
After a moment, he let me up and held out the half-empty glass.
“This will be the last time I offer you a chance to keep your independence. Choose wisely.”
Impotent rage boiled in my veins. We both knew he was strong enough to force me to drink. He’d just proven that. He’d also just proved he wasn’t afraid to use that force on me. The fey were supposed to be nice and cater to anything with boobs. Merdon wasn’t following the rules I knew. He had his own set, and that meant I needed to tread carefully. Anything was possible with him.
I glared at him, cheeks aching, then grabbed the glass from his hand.
“All of it,” he warned lowly. “Not a drop spilled.”
I took my sweet ass time drinking it, like a normal person. We glared at each other the whole time. When I finally drained what was left of that glass, he handed me the second one. The need to throw the empty one at his head rode me hard.
“I see what’s inside you,” he said, his expression shifting ever so subtly again.
It felt like he was laughing at me, which only made me grip the empty glass tighter as I glared at him.
“Have you reconsidered? Do you want me to help you?”
His tone remained the same, but I knew he was taunting me, not just with his words but his change in subject. What did he see inside of me? He was goading me to speak. I knew it.
Extending my hand with the empty cup, I waited until he moved to reach for it before opening my hand, mic-drop style. He moved with speed, catching the glass easily before it could shatter on the carpet. I had him just where I wanted him. While he was crouched in front of me, I shifted my weight back, planted both feet on his shoulders, and heaved with all my might.
He fell onto his ass with a satisfying thump.
Instead of looking pissed about it, he slowly stood and tilted his head at me. It was a gesture I’d seen countless times on other fey when they were clueless about something. Merdon didn’t look clueless. He looked dangerous, and his next two words proved it.
“You spilled.”
I looked down at my shirt, where barely a dribble wet the material, then back up at him. Anticipation lit his gaze and sent a jolt of panic through me. With his warning ringing in my ears, I quickly lifted the glass to my lips and slammed the contents.
“Good.” This time, he held out his hand. “Should we try this again?”
He was daring me to repeat my trick.
Hell, no. I wasn’t stupid. But I also didn’t want him to think he’d won this contest of wills by meekly handing the glass to him like a trained monkey. More importantly, I didn’t want him thinking I was afraid of him.
I stood, coming almost toe to toe with him because he’d been so close to my bed. He didn’t step back, but then, I hadn’t expected him to. Holding his gaze, I tossed the glass onto the far side of my bed.
He glanced at the cup then at my face. The moment he moved, so did I. He went for the glass, and I bolted for the door. He caught me before I laid a single hand on it.
Spinning me around, he slammed my back against the wood. One hand, pressed just at the base of my throat, pinned me in place. I could feel his thumb against my collarbone.
He lifted the glass he held in the other hand as if I needed proof of how fast he could be. My move hadn’t been about me escaping although I would have if he’d tripped on his face or something. It had been about proving I wasn’t afraid of him.
And that was my biggest mistake.
He leaned in close and growled low, right in my face.
“Hannah, I see what’s inside of you, and you’re already using it.”
Before I could ask what that meant, he had me over his shoulder. This time, I fought him as he strode to the bathroom. Breaking my silence, I called him every hateful name I could think of just before he plopped me down and cold water blasted my back.
He once again resumed his leaning position outside of the glass door.
“Bathe. You reek of vomit.”
I stood in the cold water, shaking with rage and reminding myself to have patience.
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded.
“Because you’ll leave.”
I lifted my hands and mimed myself choking the life out of the idiot.
“I didn’t mean why are you standing outside the shower. I meant, why are you here? Why are you involved?”
Thankfully I’d put my hands down before he glanced over his shoulder and met my gaze.
“Because Emily asked.”
“I see,” I said neutrally, my thoughts already racing with what that meant and how I could use it.
“No. You don’t, but you will.”
He turned around, missing my glare.
“Wash, Hannah.”
I gave his back the finger, then stripped out of my clothes and once again tossed them out on his head. He flicked them to the floor, as unbothered as he was the first time I’d done that, and waited with seemingly endless patience as I washed. I decided to test just how far that patience stretched and took my time with each limb. I lingered long after the water cooled and my fingers pruned. He just continued to lean there.
Giving in, I washed my hair.
Like the last time, he left the bathroom just before I shut off the water. Privacy was good. I needed to think without him watching me.
Merdon was here because Emily asked. A small, victorious smile tugged on my lips. He’d given me the key to my freedom with those three little words. I knew how obsessed fey could get over a girl. He would do anything Emily asked.
I toweled my hair and thought of my next move.
Swaying Emily into stopping this lockdown shouldn’t be hard. She said all along that she only wanted to help me because she thought I was drinking too much. Pulling myself together and acting normal for a while wouldn’t be a problem. I’d done it hundreds of times before. But because of that, convincing her my actions were real might take some time.
That thought exhausted me.
Resting a trembling hand on the countertop, I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t look good. Dark shadows smudged the thin skin under my eyes; my overall hue could only be described as waxen and sickly; and I was far too thin, something that Emily had been worrying about for a while. As I stared, another face superimposed over mine, likewise sickly and waxen.
I quickly turned my back on the memory and clutched my head while humming a flat note. My mind wanted to wander back to that day. It whispered that I hadn’t yet suffered nearly enough to make up for what I’d done. It was the small, hateful voice eating at my thoughts and stirring my misery that reaffirmed my plan. I needed out of this room so I could find enough booze to shut down the memories and the voice again.
It took another minute of rocking and humming for my head to clear enough for me to consider my next steps. Emily wouldn’t believe I was better until I stopped looking like I was two breaths away from turning into an infected. That meant food.
The thought of eating something didn’t appeal to me in the slightest, but by eating real food, bathing, and acting nice, Emily would see the change she wanted to see. She always had in the past. I’d be out of this room by tomorrow morning, latest. No problem.
With my mind set on a plan, I wrapped my towel around my torso and left the bathroom. I only made it a step into my room before pausing and blinking in confusion.
The mattress no longer had any sheets covering it, and Merdon wasn’t sitting in his usual place in the chair beside my bed. The chair now waited by the closet with a TV tray set up next to it. Merdon leaned against the door, blocking any means of escape.
I looked at the soup waiting for me, the shirt and yoga pants set out on the mattress, then Merdon.
“Would you mind facing the door so I can change privately?”
He tilted his head, considering me, then moved so he was facing the window. If I stayed by the bathroom door and changed there, he wouldn’t see me. It was at least something. Grabbing the clothes, I quickly dressed while glancing at the soup. There wasn’t anything in it. No noodles or meat. How was I supposed to show Emily that I was better by drinking that?
“I’d like to talk to Emily,” I said.
He grunted and returned to his original position, making no move to get her.
“The broth smells great and everything, but I was hoping for something a little more substantial. And maybe a cake. She knows I like cake.”
“You don’t need cake. Eat.”
“I wouldn’t be eating; I’d be drinking. I’d still like to talk to her.”
He neither did nor said anything, just stood there.
Fine. I could get her attention without him.
“Emily!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“She won’t answer you,” Merdon said.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re mean.”
I wanted to kick him in the balls until they popped out of his mouth, make him swallow them, then do it all again.
“I’m not mean. I’m nice.”
“Maybe you were once. Not anymore. Eat, Hannah, or I will help you.”
We both knew what his version of helping meant. I sat and drank the broth. It wasn’t easy. It almost came back up twice, and I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if it had been real food.
When I finished, I looked at the bed.
“Is Emily washing everything?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“There should be another set of sheets in the hall closet. I can get them.”
He just stared at me.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“Figure out how to live.”
My fingers curled before I could stop myself. His gaze flicked to them, and that hint of amusement crept into his expression.
I didn’t think it was possible to hate him more, but he always managed to up his game.