11. Chapter 11

11

Chapter 11

Mia

I drift in and out of consciousness, my body feeling weightless and disconnected. Fragments of sensation filter through the haze – strong arms around me, a steady heartbeat against my cheek. The scent of sandalwood and pine.

Soren Daire.

The vampire who has imprisoned me here.

My mind recoils at the realization, but my body betrays me, instinctively curling closer to his solid warmth. I hate how safe I feel in this moment, cradled against the chest of my captor.

Suddenly, I'm being lowered onto something soft – a bed, I think. The loss of contact leaves me feeling strangely bereft, and I hate myself for it.

"What the fuck have they done to you?" His voice is sharp with an emotion I can't quite place. Anger? Concern?

I try to speak, to lash out with some biting retort, but my tongue feels thick and useless in my mouth. All I manage is a weak groan.

Things go foggy again.

"Mia," Soren says, his cool hand brushing my forehead. "Can you hear me?"

My mind drifts, pulled back to the moments before everything went dark. The icy spray of the shower. The tile floor rushing up to meet me as my legs crumpled. The sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears as my vision tunneled.

I'd known I was in trouble. They'd been taking too much, pushing me to my limits day after day. But I'd be damned if I'd give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Now, lying here, I realize just how close I came to the edge. The thought sends a shiver through me, and I feel Soren tense in response.

"You're safe now," he murmurs, and I want to laugh at the absurdity of it. Safe? In this place? With him?

But exhaustion pulls at me, dragging me back toward oblivion. The last thing I'm aware of is the overwhelmingly male presence nearby and the traitorous part of me that doesn't want him to go.

The sound of voices pulls me back from the brink. He's speaking to someone. Clearly female. A part of me wants to recoil at the thought that it might be Patty. It's not, though. This voice is warmer. Modulated.

"Take care of her," he says to the woman. The warmth of his presence suddenly vanishes, and an unexpected wave of anxiety washes over me. My eyes flutter open, struggling to focus.

A woman with gentle eyes and graying hair leans into my field of vision. "It's alright, dear," she soothes. "I'm Dr. Chen. I'm here to help you."

I want to spit that I don't need her help, that I don't need anyone's help – especially not from the people who've done this to me. But my body feels like lead, and even the thought of speaking exhausts me.

As Dr. Chen busies herself checking my vitals, I try to make sense of the turmoil in my mind. Why did that bastard's departure leave me feeling so…exposed? He's my captor, for fuck's sake. I should be relieved to have him out of my sight.

But a traitorous part of me whispers that he's the only familiar thing in this sterile, terrifying place. The only one who's shown even a hint of concern for my well-being. And before today, there wasn't even that.

I squeeze my eyes shut, furious with myself. This is exactly what they want – to make me dependent, to chip away at my resolve until I'm nothing but a compliant little blood bag for their twisted experiments.

You're stronger than this, Mia. Don't let them break you.

I force my eyes open and use sheer willpower to drag myself back from what feels like a yawning chasm of darkness.

"There you are," Dr. Chen says. I take in her face. There's more kindness there than I've seen in weeks, and it makes my chest tighten.

I try to focus on her voice as she explains each step of her examination. My head throbs and the room seems to tilt and spin if I move too quickly.

"I'm going to check your pupils now," she says, shining a small light into my eyes. "Follow the light with your eyes, please."

I comply, wincing at the brightness. As she continues her examination, asking me to touch my nose with my finger and testing my reflexes, I shudder. I suddenly become acutely aware of my state of undress. I'm naked, aside from a jacket that's been draped over me, his jacket. Vulnerability crashes over me like a wave, and I have to fight the urge to curl into a ball.

Dr. Chen must notice my discomfort. She pauses, her expression softening. "Let's get you some clothes, dear. You'll feel much better."

She turns to someone I can't see who must have been standing near the doorway and requests clothing be brought for me. I'm grateful for her consideration, but it does little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I'm still a prisoner here, no matter how kind this doctor might seem.

As we wait, Dr. Chen's brow furrows as she looks over a chart. "I'm quite concerned about your condition, Mia," she says, her tone serious. "The amount of blood that's been drawn from you is far beyond what's safe or ethical. Your body needs time to recover."

I want to laugh bitterly at the word "ethical" being used in this place, but I don't have the energy.

I eye Dr. Chen warily as she continues her examination. Despite her gentle manner, I can't forget that she's part of this place, part of the system that's keeping me prisoner.

"Mia," she says softly, "I need to understand what happened. Can you tell me about the incident that led to your collapse?"

I press my lips together, torn between my instinct to stay silent and the desperate need to have someone – anyone – acknowledge the horror of what's been done to me.

"It was Patty," I finally rasp. "The guard."

Dr. Chen's eyebrows lift slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.

"She…" I swallow hard, fighting against the memory. "She's been rough during the showers. Today, I was already weak from all the…" I can't bring myself to say "blood draws." "I slipped. She didn't catch me."

I watch Dr. Chen's face carefully, searching for any hint of her true feelings. Will she defend Patty? Dismiss my account?

To my surprise, a touch of genuine concern crosses her features. "I see," she says. "And how long has this treatment been going on?"

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. But something in Dr. Chen's eyes – a warmth I haven't seen in any other face here – makes me want to trust her, just a little.

"Since I arrived," I admit. "It's been…difficult."

Dr. Chen nods, making a note on her chart. "I understand this is hard, Mia. But I need to know – have there been any other incidents? Any other pain or discomfort you've been experiencing?"

I close my eyes briefly, weighing my options. How much can I safely tell her? Will it make any difference?

I don't get to answer Dr. Chen's question because the door suddenly opens. A female guard enters, carrying a bundle of fabric. Relief washes over me at the sight of clothing, even as I resent feeling grateful for such a basic necessity.

"Here," the guard says, handing the bundle of fabric to the doctor, who passes it to me. It's another of those simple tunics, rough to the touch but blessedly clean.

Dr. Chen gives me a reassuring nod. "Let's give you some privacy to change. I'll be just outside if you need anything."

As they leave, I struggle to sit up, my muscles protesting every movement. I pull Soren's jacket tighter around me, hating how I've come to rely on its warmth. With trembling hands, I reach for the tunic.

Dressing is an awkward, painful process. My limbs feel like lead, and every motion sends waves of dizziness through me. But the simple act of covering myself brings a small measure of comfort, a tiny reclaiming of dignity.

As I fumble with the fabric, I take in my surroundings for the first time. This isn't the sterile medical bay I've grown accustomed to. The room is sparsely furnished, with a large desk dominating one corner and bookshelves lining the walls. It's clearly someone's personal space, and with a jolt, I realize it must be his. The vampires.

The thought makes me uneasy. I'm in the lair of the beast, so to speak. But as I look around, I'm struck by how…impersonal it all feels. There are no photographs, no artwork, nothing to suggest the personality of its occupant. It's as if he has deliberately kept any trace of himself from this space.

I find myself wondering about the vampire who's become such a central figure in my captivity. What kind of person chooses to live in such stark surroundings? Is it a reflection of his inner world or just another mask he wears?

The door opens again, and Dr. Chen returns to continue her examination. I watch her carefully as she approaches, trying to gauge her true intentions. There's a softness in her eyes that I haven't seen in anyone else here, genuine care that makes me wonder if she might be different from the rest.

As she checks my vitals once more, I notice the slight furrow of her brow, the tightening of her lips. She's not happy with what she's seeing, that much is clear. I can't help but wonder if her disapproval extends beyond just my physical condition to the practices of this facility as a whole.

Part of me wants to press her, to see if I can glean any useful information. But exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and even the thought of engaging in subtle manipulation feels beyond my capabilities right now.

"Mia," Dr. Chen says gently, "I want to explain some of what you're experiencing. The blood harvesting process has taken a significant toll on your body."

I brace myself, unsure if I really want to hear the details, but knowing I need to understand what's happening to me.

"Your body is struggling to produce new blood cells fast enough to replace what's been taken," she continues. "This is causing severe anemia, which is why you're feeling so weak and dizzy. You may also experience shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat, and difficulty concentrating."

I nod slightly, recognizing many of those symptoms.

"There's also a risk of your immune system becoming compromised," Dr. Chen adds, her voice laced with what sounds like genuine concern. "Your body is under extreme stress, which makes you more susceptible to infections."

As she speaks, I can't help but notice the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes dart toward the door occasionally. It's almost as if she's afraid of being overheard, of saying too much.

"I… Okay," I say feebly because I'm not sure how else to respond.

"I'd like to keep you under observation for the night. I'm going to send you to the medical bay," she tells me.

I try to process Dr. Chen's words. The idea of staying in the medical bay overnight fills me with conflicting emotions. On one hand, the thought of not returning to my cold, lonely cell brings a wave of relief. But fear quickly follows on the heels of that relief. What does this mean? Are they planning more tests? More "procedures"? The unknown looms before me, dark and threatening.

"You'll be more comfortable there," Dr. Chen says, her voice gentle. "We can monitor your condition more closely."

I want to trust her kindness, but experience has taught me to be wary. In this place, even small mercies often come with a price.

"What exactly does that mean?" I ask, my voice hoarse. "Monitoring?"

Dr. Chen explains about IV fluids and heart monitors. "You need rest, Mia," Dr. Chen says, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. "Real rest, without fear of…interruptions."

The way she hesitates makes me wonder what she thinks about what's been done to me. I'm pretty sure she disapproves. Unless this is all part of some elaborate good cop, bad cop routine.

As Dr. Chen heads to the door to call the guard in, I take a moment to take stock. This could be a chance to gather information, to observe my captors from a new angle. If I can just stay alert, maybe I can find something – anything – to aid in my escape.

I try to stay alert as Dr. Chen and the guard prepare to move me. Every detail could be crucial. As they help me onto a wheelchair, I take in as much as I can about Soren's quarters. The layout, the furnishings, anything that might prove useful later.

My head spins as they wheel me out into the hallway. I force myself to focus, mentally mapping our route. Left turn, long corridor, right turn… I count the doors we pass, noting any distinguishing features.

The guard pushes my wheelchair while Dr. Chen walks beside us. Their voices drift over me as they talk, thinking I'm too weak to pay attention. But I strain to catch every word.

"…can't keep this up," Dr. Chen murmurs, her voice tight with concern. "The quotas are unsustainable."

The guard grunts in response. "Tell that to Marlowe. He's pushing for even more."

"Doesn't he understand the risks? We're already walking a dangerous line…"

Their voices fade as we approach a busier area of the facility. But those few snippets are enough to set my mind racing. Quotas? Risks? It seems there's more going on here than just my captivity and some sadistic need to drain me dry.

As we continue through the winding corridors, I notice signs of strain in the facility. Tired-looking staff hurry past, their faces drawn. Equipment looks hastily stacked in corners, as if they're struggling to keep up with demand.

What exactly are they doing here? And how many others like me are trapped within these walls?