Ivy
Present day
I’d lost all track of time.
How long had I been in this torture chamber? Three weeks? Six weeks? A year? It was hard to tell anymore.
I hadn’t talked with Cami since I arrived, and I knew she was probably terrified. I was the only family she had left, and in the state I’d been over the last few weeks, I wasn’t sure anymore that I was going to make it out of there alive.
One thing was crystal clear: there was no film. No job. No big break. Instead, I was hanging on to life with a claw-like grip.
All the pleasantries and smiles had died once I’d donned the medical gown, my only wardrobe now. Mr. Casas—Santos, they called him—had stopped being so accommodating after he’d taken my cell phone and wallet. I had no way to communicate with the outside world, no ID or money if I was even able to find a way to escape. And that in and of itself was a long shot.
There were armed guards everywhere. On my hall there was one for every three rooms, as far as I could tell. And another half-dozen or so who rotated shifts in the large room where they took us to conduct more testing.
Sometime shortly after I’d arrived, a girl had tried to escape. They’d caught her and brought her into the lunch room, a larger room at the end of the hallway where we were held in our rooms. They’d taken turns beating her until she was no longer able to stand, her face a bloody mess. Then we were all sent back to our cells.
That’s right. Cells. The room I’d been shown to was one of many prison rooms that locked from the outside. On the other side of the hall, the partition walls that had been pulled to when I arrived opened to large medical stations as well as the common area where we ate our meals and had a few minutes to be free from the constant testing and isolation.
As the days had gone by, those who were able to congregate in the common area had grown less and less numerous. Several times I’d seen stretchers wheeled out with a white cloth over them. It was best not to try and make friends.
Although, even that would be difficult with how we were not allowed to talk above a whisper and weren’t given ample time to be free from the constant testing.
If you even had the energy to talk.
Which I did not.
Shortly after I realized I was not here of my own free will any longer, the injections started. A few days later, so did the cough. Then the fever. A week into the infection, I coughed until blood ran from my eyes and mouth.
And then suddenly, it was gone.
More doctors arrived after that. They poked and prodded me, always with puzzled looks on their faces. When the injections started again, I wanted to die. I’d never been so tired in all my life. And the coughing. I was certain that during this last round I’d broken a couple of ribs.
There were no cough medicines, no ibuprofen to bring down the fever, no warm or cold compresses to ease the pain. I was left in my cell to suffer with constant monitoring. I now understood the hospital bed. The medical equipment was brought in shortly after I arrived, and I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors and IV drips. That’s how they kept me alive during the worst of it. Bags full of vitamins that did little more than keep me breathing.
I’d lost weight. A lot of weight. And while most days I’d be happy to shed a few pounds, this wasn’t a look I was proud of.
I stood before the mirror in my tiny bathroom as I stripped the hospital gown off and readied myself for a shower. Most days I didn’t have the energy to bother, but the last round of injections were two weeks ago, and I was suddenly feeling better again.
Of course that wouldn’t last long, since a new round of doctors and scientists had been in earlier that day to take more blood and examine me. This round of injections hadn’t been quite as bad, but still the coughing and bleeding were horrible. I had no desire to repeat the process.
I cocked my head to one side, pulling on a strand of hair that was limp and stringy. My beautiful golden-brown locks were now dingy and dull. My hazel-green eyes were rimmed with purple as if someone had punched me in the face. There was blood dried under my nose, and my lips were chapped and cracked. I smiled, and it was grotesque. Blood was dried along my gum line from the capillaries breaking during coughing fits.
I skimmed my hands down my body, and winced at a particularly sore place. When I looked down, my ribs were lined black and blue. They protruded from my body, and I remembered watching a video about women with anorexia. That’s exactly what I looked like. Every bone in my body stuck out at sharp angles, a skeleton with skin on it.
My eyes stung as if tears were trying to form, but nothing fell. My body was dried out, dehydrated from the lack of nutrition and fluids. The IVs had stopped a couple of days ago, and I was still trying to find my appetite to eat anything.
The worst thing about it all was that no one would answer my questions. I’d tried during the first few days. Every doctor, every nurse. I’d pleaded with them to let me go. They pretended they didn’t hear me.
One particularly bad night, I’d begged Dr. K to let me go. After he’d performed his examination, he’d smiled and told me I was doing just fine. I hadn’t been. I coughed so hard that day that I’d thrown up all over myself.
“Dr. K, please,” I’d begged him, tears welling in my eyes when I still had the ability to cry. “Please just let me call my sister. She’ll be so worried.”
“You have a sister?” With his thick accent it was sometimes difficult to understand him completely.
“I do. She’s bound to be looking for me. I just need to let her know I’m okay.”
Dr. K laughed. “Ah, my dear, but I’m afraid that’s simply not possible. Better that she thinks you have run off without her.”
I had no idea why he thought it was better if she thought that. But I wasn’t done.
“Please. Please just let me go. I’m so sick. I want to go home. Please.”
I’d become violent then, pulling at the IVs and thrashing about. Once I was free, I’d stood on wobbly legs, and the whole time, Dr. K had watched me with humor on his face. He’d pressed a button on a device in his pocket, and my cell door had opened. Two men in orderly scrubs walked in, a large shot in their hands.
“No! Please, no! Just let me go! Let me go!”
I’d been no match for the two large men who’d pinned me down and injected me with something. Dr. K stood over my bed as my world spun in circles, and the darkness threatened to overtake me.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Ivy. You will never go home again. Once you accept that, things will be much better for you.”
He’d squeezed my hand before tying it to the bed. It had taken two weeks before they’d released me from that bed.
I stepped into the shower and let the spray run over my emaciated body. I was going to die here. There was no other option, unless I could find a way to escape. But that didn’t seem like a plausible outcome. There were guards who constantly walked the halls, plus the orderlies who must have all escaped from the World Wrestling Federation. They were big and strong and ugly, and no match for me even when I was in excellent health. In the shape I was in, it was entirely hopeless.
After I’d showered, I put a clean gown on they’d dropped off that afternoon and slid under the sheets. I was always so cold these days. No meat on my bones meant no way to keep myself warm. I shivered under the thin blanket and stared at the wall. No one was interested in our entertainment, so I had nothing to spend the time. No books. No movies. No magazines. No phone. No television. Just me and my thoughts, which weren’t exactly the best company.
At dinnertime, I met another girl in the common area. Lola was around Cami’s age, and it was obvious she’d once been very pretty. She’d just arrived and still had no idea what was going on. The sickness hadn’t overtaken her yet, but I knew it was coming. She looked feverish, her skin pale and her eyes hollow.
“What is this place?” she’d whispered as she’d retrieved her tray and sat down next to me.
“Hell.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “I just want to go home.”
I scooted closer to her, allowing my leg to rest near hers. If the guards saw me touch her, they’d reprimand us, and depending on what kind of mood they were in, that could be a full-on beating, a slap to the face, or a verbal scolding. I wasn’t taking any chances.
“I know. Me too.”
“What did they do to you?” Her eyes scanned my face. My eyes were bloodshot from busted capillaries, and crusty underneath from the bleeding. I knew I looked like something from a horror film. But the worst part was, I felt like it too.
“I’m not sure. I’ve been sick for weeks. Then I suddenly get better. Only to get sick again. I don’t understand it. I don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish.”
“I saw a girl die last night. The alarms went off in her room, and she was screaming until it was cut off with a gargle. Minutes later they wheeled her out, her body covered with a white sheet.” Fear pulled her eyes wide and her mouth taut. “I don’t want to die.” Her voice had escalated with her fear, coming out louder than she’d intended.
“Shh.”
But it was too late. One of the guards jerked his head around, narrowing his eyes on us. “You! Come here.”
He pointed at Lola, and she shook her head no. “I—I’m s–sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
“You’re new here. You need to know the rules. Come here. Now.”
Lola stood on shaky legs and walked over to the guard.
“There’s no talking!” As quick as lightning, he backhanded her hard across the face. Blood flew from her mouth and hit the floor behind her. The crack was so loud my ears rang from the reverberation through the room. Lola stumbled backwards as two guards took her arms and led her away. She’d be in isolation for the next week. It wouldn’t matter. In a few days’ time, she’d no longer be able to get up and walk around anyway. A few days after that, and she’d probably be dead.
I felt the tears building behind my eyes, but I blinked them rapidly away. The guard walked over and stood behind me.
“You’re lucky we have instructions not to hurt you, or you’d be worse off than her. You know the rules. No talking.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. Instructions not to hurt me? Why? What separated me from Lola or anyone else?
A few of the other patients eyed me suspiciously as they sat in silence finishing their food. I wasn’t hungry in the first place, but after watching that creep strike Lola, I couldn’t eat if someone paid me to. I stood, dumping the food off my tray and into the trash. Then, with my head held high, I walked back to my room. Back to the quiet. The isolation. The nothingness.
I reached for the locket around my neck, finding the space between my breasts empty of its presence. I’d repeatedly asked for it back, especially during my moments of delirium. I missed it. It was all I had left of my baby with Oscar.
Oscar.
I’d never forgotten him. During the worst of the days, I’d imagine that he’d never left for the army. That we were still together and that Zachary was alive. Would we have had many more kids? Filling our house with laughter and joy?
Oscar had always known how to make me smile. Even during lovemaking, he’d crack a joke, making me laugh as he loved my body with his own. I ached for him, but I hadn’t fought for us. He hadn’t fought for us either, not like I’d wanted. Sometimes I wondered if I was too hard on him back then. And then I’d remember delivering our stillborn baby and decide that I’d been young and hurting. I’d seen no other way at the time.
It plagued me why he hadn’t filed for divorce in the eleven years we’d been separated. Surely he’d met someone in all those years whom he wanted to be with. Perhaps he’d decided never to marry again, so it just didn’t matter. I’d heard through a mutual friend that he’d finally left the army. I’d hoped maybe he’d come find me, but he hadn’t.
It was too late for us. I knew that. But in my darkest moments, my mind couldn’t comprehend it. My subconscious made up its own stories of what our life should have been like.
I curled in on myself and shut my eyes, just as the lights flickered on. Dr. K and two orderlies walked in. That wasn’t good news. If Dr. K was at my bedside, that meant more injections, more pain, more sickness.
I crawled backwards in bed, wrapping my arms tightly around my waist.
“No.” The word came out in a ragged whisper.
Dr. K smiled, almost kindly. He was never loud or angry. He didn’t seem to get upset. He’d just call in the orderlies and take care of the problem.
“Please. No.”
“Hello, Ivy. How are you feeling today?”
I shrugged, unsure how to answer his question. If I told him I felt better, would he just pump me full of something that would make me feel bad? And if I told him I wasn’t feeling good, would he still go ahead with his nasty cocktails of desperation?
“You certainly look better. That’s excellent news.”
Really? Was it? It was hard to say these days.
“Please just let me go home. I need to be with my sister. She needs me.”
“Ah, yes, Camellia. Well, good news. She’ll soon be joining you here.”
No! No, that wasn’t possible. They couldn’t bring Cami here. I had to protect her.
I slipped from the bed and ran to the other side. The two orderlies took a couple of steps towards me before Dr. K lifted his hand to stop them and shook his head.
“Leave my sister alone!” The words tore from my throat, leaving my vocal cords raw from lack of use especially at such a high-decibel level.
“You are quite perplexing to us, Ms. Ivy. We hope that maybe your sister can shed some light on that.”
“Shed light on what?”
“It’s not important. Now, don’t make me restrain you. You know the drill.”
If I was doped up on whatever he had in the vial in his hands, I’d never get out of here and save Cami. Would I even remember to save her when I was able to function again?
The most recent injection had worked in a matter of hours, and I’d hardly remembered anything that had happened in the days before. My back hit the wall, and I shook my head, looking for an escape. It was three against one. Even if I got away, there was no way I’d get past all three of them.
I waited until the two orderlies were near, and struck out with my foot, hitting one of them in the groin. The other lunged for me, and I sidestepped him just in time. The door was wide open, and I raced forward, hoping against hope that I’d make it outside the room and then down the hall before they could sound the alarm.
Just as I tasted freedom, a hand wrenched tightly in my hair and jerked me back. I cried out at the pain shooting through my skull. Large arms held me tightly against a broad chest, as Dr. K shook his head in disapproval.
“I guess I should expect it, but Ivy, dear, it is best for you not to fight us. There is no way out. This is your home now, and the sooner you accept it, the better.
“Never!” I spat at him, and it hit him in the face. He flinched and then retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. Then he took the vial out and walked towards me.
The first prick was never fun, but it was the aftermath of the poison flowing through my veins that was worse. It wasn’t as if it actually hurt, but I knew it was going to make me sick, and I could imagine the dark fluid racing through my veins, its tentacles clawing at me from the inside out.
The orderly that I’d kicked in the crotch released me, and I stumbled towards the bed. This cocktail seemed worse than the others. I was already feeling the effects.
“What… Wha—what’d you do to me?”
“We added a little something extra to keep you sedated for a couple of days. We want to give the virus ample time to really take effect. It will be easier if you are sedated and weak.”
I swayed on my feet, just as the two thugs picked me up and laid me down on the sheets. Dr. K attached an IV to my arm. “We want you weak, but not dead,” he explained as he hooked the bag onto the pole by my bed.
I blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake. There was something very important I needed to remember, but what was it? The world was spinning, Dr. K’s face blurring into two, then three copies. Six orderlies stood by my bed, staring down at me with angry eyes.
Cami. There was something I needed to remember about Cami.
I tried to grasp the thought that was just out of reach, tried to rein it in and hold on to it. It was no use. The room spun in a kaleidoscope of images, colors, and voices.
“Her blood is important. You’ll need to draw it every hour—is that understood?” The voice echoed in my head as a woman’s voice agreed to the instructions.
The lights cut off and a hissing sound filled the room.
“What is that?”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Sir, we have to get you out of here. We’ve been breached.”
I could hear the words, but they made no sense to me as a fog floated towards me. Yelling and shouting rose up all around, and I struggled to sit up. It was no use. My head weighed a hundred pounds, and my arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate. What was happening?
Black figures danced in the hallway, furiously racing by.
“Help.” I opened my mouth to say the word, but it didn’t come out. The blackness was settling in. I tried to press against it. I strained to keep my eyes open to see what the commotion was all about.
My vision tunneled, the darkness taking over, only a pinprick of light remaining. I slowly slipped into a deep sleep, but just before my eyes closed, I saw Oscar’s beautiful face covered in black paint.
It was a weird way for my subconscious to picture him, but I was happy to see him nonetheless.
“Oh, dear God, Ivy. What have they done to you?”
His soft, tortured words were the last thing I heard before I gave in to the night.