7. Grace

Chapter seven

Grace

I couldn't judge the passing of time in this boring room, not without a clock or even a window to see outside. I tried counting in my head for a while, but that only made me tired, and I didn't want to sleep anymore, not with a group of strange men right outside the door. Eventually though, that bottle of water forced me to move, and I scooted myself to the edge of the bed, watching the door as I stood on shaky legs. My muscles ached from sitting curled up for so long, and I stumbled toward the bathroom as I worked out the pins and needles in my limbs.

Ugh, the mirror was not my friend right now, and I avoided looking in it, hurrying to the toilet instead. I was pretty sure the mirror in the middle of the bedroom wall was one of those windows like they had in police stations, so I tried to cover myself as much as I could, in case they were watching me in here, too. I stared wistfully at the shower next to me. I'd definitely love to clean myself off, but with my luck, one of them would burst in while I was inside, all naked and vulnerable. I settled for splashing some water on my face, and when that only made things worse, I tried to use some of the hand soap to scrub my makeup off. It probably didn't do my skin any favors, but it did the job. By the time I was done, the hand towel they'd left me was stained, but my face was pink and clean. I wet the cleaner part of the towel and dabbed at the cut along my throat. It was sort of a papercut mixed with rug burn–from a seatbelt, was my best guess. I'd scoured my memories, but there was a big hole where last night should've been, from right after I'd left the club bathroom to waking up here. Snippets of terror, Sergio's face, fingers digging into my thighs, all of these things flashed through my brain, making me dizzy and nauseous.

I shivered, thinking about how mad Doug was going to be. He'd consider this an inconvenience. I was sure he'd figure out some way to place the blame on me. That would give him the excuse he needed to punish me, although I didn't know why he'd even bothered with one—we both knew it didn't matter. He just liked to cause pain. I gripped the edge of the sink, feeling tendrils of rage spreading out of my chest. How was this my fault? I was nobody . I knew they were only doing this to hurt Doug. Well, the joke was on them, because my brother didn't care enough about people for this to affect him. I was pretty sure he had no soul at all.

Tiptoeing back into the room, I retook my seat on the bed, ignoring the bowl of fruit the pretty surfer had brought in. For a kidnapping psycho, he had the face of a god, and that just wasn't fair. He even had those piercings— what were they, spider bites? The ones that nestled in the dimples of his cheeks, blue stones glinting when they caught the light. He must've been the good cop, so I kept a wary eye on the door, waiting for the bad cop to show up.

At some point, the boredom must've gotten to me, or maybe they'd drugged me earlier, who knew. I woke up with a start and nearly tipped over from where I'd propped myself up against the wall. The lock on the door clicked, and I quickly scanned the room. The bowl of fruit had disappeared, and in its place was a wrapped chocolate bar. My blood ran cold, knowing that someone had been in here while I'd been asleep. I pinched my arm and scrunched my toes a few times, forcing myself to stay alert.

It was incredibly hard not to doze off when there was nothing to do. When I felt myself beginning to lag, I stretched out my legs, pinching them to get the sensation back. An image of someone biting into chocolate flashed through my mind, and I glanced at the door, scowling. Pretty Surfer was like Doug and I, obviously. At least, I was quite sure he was responsible for the images that randomly came into my head. I didn't think my stomach could handle anything at the moment. But it had been forever since I'd last eaten… so what could it hurt?

I leaned over and grabbed the bar, bringing it back to my corner. I tore off the top of the wrapper and nibbled on a corner of the chocolate, eating one of the squares before I set it down on the bed. My stomach didn't appreciate the tease and promptly clenched up, and I groaned and reached for the bottle of water, hoping that would help. A couple of gulps soothed the cramping, and I sighed in relief and screwed the lid back on the bottle, saving the rest for later.

What the hell were they waiting for? Clearly, someone was watching me, maybe they all were, but what for? Were they negotiating with Doug for my release? Or trying to figure out where to dump my corpse when they were bored with me? "Just kill me and get it over with already," I muttered, resting my chin on my knees.

My eyes were just starting to drift closed again when the door swung open, banging into the wall and making me jump half-out of my skin. A tall, strapping man strode in, glaring at the chocolate bar on the bed. "Eat that," he snapped, pointing at it. His short brown hair was messy and in need of a trim, it kept falling into his eyes, and he would brush it away, only for it to fall right back into place.

"No, thank you," I replied tartly, lifting my chin. He glowered at the bar on the bed, like it had offended him deeply, and stalked forward, looming over me.

"Do you know how low your blood sugar is right now? Your body is struggling to function because you're refusing to fuel it properly. You're experiencing fatigue, aching muscles, thirst, and headaches, which will compromise your ability to heal or fight off infection," he snapped again, and I raised my eyebrows at him. Who was he, some kind of doctor? He certainly had the bedside manner of one. "So eat the fucking chocolate bar, or I will make you eat it." His golden-hazel eyes flicked to mine for just a moment, full of dark warning, before he looked away, focusing on the wall behind me. This was quite possibly the weirdest threat I'd ever received.

"Don't make me ask again," he warned, and I picked up the bar quickly, taking another little bite. "More," he ordered, taking a step closer, and I took a bigger bite, breaking off two squares and sliding them over my tongue. He harrumphed and glanced around the room, shoving his hands in his pockets. I decided to test my luck a bit, more out of curiosity than anything else. I sent out a little tendril of light toward him. He had the opposite response than what I'd expected. He tensed instead of relaxing, his eyes flashing with anger as he met my gaze. My heart jumped into my throat, speeding up until I started to hyperventilate. "Don't do that, this is your only warning," he bit out, and I nodded, gasping, as my heart rate slowed back to normal. Definitely not a doctor, and not a regular person either.

The room was silent after that, except for the occasional snap as I bit off pieces of the chocolate bar. He stayed until I popped the last bite in my mouth, then grunted and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I had to admit, I was feeling better now that I had something in my stomach.

Unfortunately, the knowledge that there were three men outside that door—two of whom with abilities like mine—was more than a little terrifying.

I waited, watching the door for what felt like hours, but no one else came in. My body ached from being curled up for so long, so I finally gave in and slipped under the thin blanket covering the bed, laying down with my back pressed against the wall. I tried to stay awake for a little while longer, scared of what would happen if I fell asleep. Would they tie me up again? Or worse? I squeezed my eyes shut tightly to stop the tears from coming out, eventually falling into a restless doze.