9. Chapter 9

9

Chapter 9

Mia

I stare at my pale reflection in the mirror over the washbasin as I pass it. There are dark circles under my eyes, which are haunted. My lips are colorless, aside from a faint blue tinge.

When I glance down at my wrists, the tracery of my veins is visible through my translucent skin, which is just as colorless as my face. Except for the bruises. They're beginning to fade now. Probably because there are no new ones. I fought like my life depended on it that first day. The second day, too. And again on the third, fourth, and fifth. After that, it seemed pointless. They're just too strong. And I'm just so weak. And tired.

God, I'm so tired.

"Get a move on, buttercup. It's not like you're getting pretty for an Instagram reel." Patty's characteristically bitchy.

"They use filters," I mumble.

"What was that?" she asks sharply. I never talk back. I learned that within the first couple of days. Although, right now, I'm too exhausted to give a damn.

"Nothing," I say. For some reason, the word comes out slurred.

"Strip," she instructs me. We go through this same routine every day. I think she gets off on it. Right now, I couldn't care less.

My hands shake as I reach for the hem of my rough cotton tunic. It almost feels like too much of an effort to lift them high enough to pull the simple garment over my head.

"Fuck sake, girl," Patty snaps. "You want me to do it or something?"

I shake my head. God, no. The last thing I want is to give her an excuse to put her hands all over me. Gathering my strength, I tug my tunic off and then fumble to get my panties down my thighs. Patty is probably ogling me again, but if she is, I barely notice it. I drag my feet to get to the bare wall, then brace my palms against it, head slumped forward as I prepare for the frigid blast of water.

When it hits me, it takes my breath away. As she directs the powerful stream at the back of my head, I struggle to stop my knees from buckling.

"Bitch," I mutter.

"Think I didn't hear that?" Patty's voice is harsh. "Turn around, cupcake."

"Screw you!" I've had enough of her shit.

"Turn the fuck around!" she barks. The water force ratchets up, stinging in its intensity. Reluctantly, I turn, knowing there's no point in fighting.

The water hits me in the solar plexus, knocking the breath from me.

"Fuck," I choke out.

"Got a filthy mouth on you, girl," Patty sneers. "Maybe I should wash it out."

Before I know what she's about to do, she aims the stream directly at my face. The force of it snaps my head back. I stagger, my shaking legs finally giving out. I'm stumbling back, my feet slipping on the slick tiles as I scramble to regain my balance.

I go down hard, my head cracking against the wall behind me. Pain bursts through my skull, sending a wave of black spots dancing before my eyes.

I struggle to focus, my vision blurring as pain radiates through my skull. Patty's voice sounds distant, muffled, like I'm underwater.

"Get up, you stupid bitch! Stop fucking around!"

I try to respond, to move, but my limbs feel impossibly heavy. The cold tiles press against my cheek, water still pooling around me. I blink slowly, fighting to keep my eyes open.

Patty's face swims into view, her features twisted with anger and…is that fear? She's shouting something, but the words are garbled, meaningless noise.

"…can't be…wake up…shit, shit, shit!"

I want to tell her to shut up, that her screeching is making my head pound even worse, but I can't form the words. My eyelids are so heavy.

Maybe if I just close them for a moment…

A sharp slap across my face jolts me back to semi-consciousness. Patty's hovering over me, her hand raised to strike again.

"Don't you dare pass out on me, you little bitch!"

I try to muster a glare, but even that small effort is too much. The pain in my head intensifies, a relentless throbbing that threatens to split my skull. I'm so tired. So cold. I just want to sleep.

Patty's panicked voice fades in and out.

"…need help… she's not… Fuck, what do I do?"

I feel myself slipping away, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. I try to fight it, but I'm too weak, too drained. I'm aware of Patty's frantic cursing before exhaustion claims me, and I surrender to the welcoming oblivion.

It doesn't last long. There are voices again. Male this time, as Patty shouts frantically to someone outside. Then she's back.

I drift in and out of awareness, my thoughts hazy and disjointed. One moment, I'm floating in a peaceful void, and the next, I'm jolted back to a harsh reality of pain and confusion. Something's pressing down on my chest rhythmically, each compression sending a dull ache through my body.

Patty's face is back. Her lips are moving, but I can't make out the words. It takes me a moment to realize she's performing CPR.

Get off me , I try to say, but my lips won't move. My body feels impossibly heavy, disconnected from my will. I want to push her away, to tell her to stop touching me, but I'm trapped within myself, unable to act.

The pressure on my chest continues, each push sending a jolt through me. I try to focus, to summon my magic, but there's nothing there, just the empty void that's become so familiar lately.

Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, and for a moment, I let it take me. The pain fades, replaced by a comforting numbness. But then I'm back, Patty's frantic face hovering over mine. Her hands are on my face now, tilting my head back.

No! I think desperately as she leans in toward my mouth. Don't you dare!

I try to turn away, to resist, but my body won't respond. I'm a prisoner in my own skin, helpless as Patty's mouth covers mine. The feel of her breath forcing its way into my lungs makes me want to gag, but even that reflex is beyond me now.

Time loses all meaning. I drift between moments of clarity and stretches of blissful unawareness. Patty's face, the cold tiles beneath me, the ache in my chest – they all blur together in a confusing jumble of sensations as she begins pounding on my chest yet again.

Maybe I'm dying. Maybe it will be my way out of this place. Death doesn't seem so bad right now.

I feel Patty's weight suddenly lift off me, and in her place, a new presence looms. It's strong, powerful, and imposing, but strangely, I don't feel threatened. Instead, a sense of safety washes over me, easing some of the tension in my battered body.

A male voice cuts through the haze of my semi-consciousness, calling my name. "Mia… Mia, can you hear me?"

The voice is deep and smooth. I want to respond, to open my eyes and see who's speaking, but my body still refuses to cooperate. Yet somehow, I feel calmer just hearing it.

"Mia, if you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand."

I feel a warm, strong hand envelop mine. It's a stark contrast to the cold tiles beneath me and Patty's rough handling. I focus all my energy on that simple task – squeezing his hand. It takes an enormous effort, but I manage a feeble twitch of my fingers.

"Good, that's good," the voice encourages. "You're going to be alright."

A hand brushes wet hair from my face. I flinch as firm fingers explore my skull, tracing the source of the screaming pain in my head. There's a muttered, "Fuck," and then I'm being lifted.

"Mia. Look at me. You need to stay awake."

I open my eyes.

And it's him.