He's seen them.
I start to panic. Fear freezes me in place. He can see my legs, the scars, my past! I try to take control but my limbs refuse to listen. It takes all my strength to turn around and sit back down on the bed. To hide my legs. The constant reminder of my pain.
I can’t do this now, can’t answer questions about those marks just yet.
“I wouldn’t let you go in that condition anyway.” He continues, his voice dry and emotionless. A laugh tears out my throat.
As if he cared! Funny.
I may not be in peak condition, but I sure as heck could make my way out of here. This little jail cell; I’ve broken out of harder.
I can’t move with my legs visible though, but I don’t need to, not yet. Of all of us, I can do the waiting game better, last longer. After all, I’ve been practicing for years.
I hear a sigh and the door opens, allowing one person out. Nikita by the sound of the steps. Julian and Miss Melody stay behind talking quietly.
After a while Julian exits, leaving Miss Melody alone with me. After Julian closes the door, I hear the click of a lock. They obviously don’t trust me, smart but useless. Surely Julian remembers me picking those locks in hell. Even without my lock picks it wouldn’t take me long to find something else to do the job just as fast.
Miss Melody comes and sits on the side of the bed. I keep my face directed towards the opposite wall, away from her.
“Julian told me what happened.” She stops and sighs, “How long have you been doing those sorts of things? By the sound of it, long before you came to me.” How little she knows, how little they all know.
Does she really think she can break me? Do they even know how? As if she heard my thoughts Miss Melody speaks.
“We’re not going to keep you against your will. Once I feel you’re healed enough. If you want to go then you can. But,” Miss Melody pauses and is silent for a minute, “but,” she continues, “I hope you’ll at least tell us, me, something. What, what happened to you? What made you like, like this?”
I remain silent and Miss Melody leaves. She knocks once on the door and someone on the other side unlocks it and lets her out. Nikita comes in straight afterwards. I hear her footsteps as she walks slowly to the bed.
“Thank you miss. You saved me.” She whispers softly. I hear a clink of glass against wood, then she leaves and the door locks again behind her. I glance at the bedside table. There is a glass of water sitting there. I look at the door bewildered; they said I’d get nothing unless I spoke, and yet. . . . .
I pick up the glass and sniff it warily. It smells of nothing and doesn’t seem to be diluted with anything. I take a small sip. Nothing, no poison I can find--not that they’d know how to get it. I take a larger gulp. The water soothes my throat and satisfies my thirst.
I don’t get their tactics. I don’t get them.
I stand again and stretch walking stiffly around the room, warming up my muscles. My head spinning.
If they are true to their word. I could be out of here soon, and the I can finally start the rescue of my country, the revenge of my family.
So long as they give me back the envelope, that is.
I have a plan worked out, but I don’t remember every detail. It’s hidden in the room Miss Melody gave me. I need to go back and get it.
I could try and pick the lock in this room. But, if they let me go of their own free will, I should be able to go back to Miss Melody’s to retrieve my stuff without raising any suspicions.
The door unlocks and Miss Melody and Julian walk in. I wonder where Nikita is, maybe she’s gone home, or she just doesn’t want to see me. Probably the latter.
Miss Melody is holding a plate of food, she puts it down next to the glass of water. “Eat, please,” She waves at the plate and sits down on the end of the bed. Julian takes up a stand at the door to make sure I don’t escape.
As if he could stop me if I really wanted to.
I reach towards the food hesitantly, then quickly pull back. What if there is some kind of drug in there? To put me asleep, or make me talk?
I know it could just be me being paranoid, but why risk it? Why risk freedom, escape, revenge--why risk it all on my stomach?
I pull my hands firmly into my lap, and shake my head a resounding no. I catch the look on Julian’s face, turmoil and confusion. Along with that other emotion, the one I can’t identify.
He looks more like the boy at the youth club now, younger, baffled. More sympathetic than this other Julian I’ve just met--he’s harder, older, wiser. It confuses me. He confuses me. How did he find hell, and why, why did he help me even though he looks, and acts, like he hates me?
Miss Melody interrupts my thoughts, “It’s safe Snow, we didn’t stick any drugs in it or anything,” I shake my head again, more firmly.
I’m not such an idiot as to blindly trust anything she says. I’ve lived long enough to know people lie, and lie often. It’s far safer to be paranoid. I’ll live longer. At least for now.
Miss Melody sighs and stands. She walks over to the plate of food, picks up a piece of bread and nibbles it. She tastes everything on the plate in the same way before going back to the end of the bed. “There. See, nothing in it. Will you please just eat it now?”
I nod hesitantly, it’s probably safe. I don’t think they would have thought to not put drugs in a tiny bit of the food so she could taste it without issues.
At least I hope not.
I eat slowly stone faced. My eyes darting from Miss Melody to Julian to my food and back again. I’m sure I look like a wild animal, untrusting of humans, and the looks on their faces convince me.
The pity in Miss Melody’s eyes is what gnaws at me the most though. I’ve always hated pity--it’s not a useful emotion. If the pitied sees it, it turns them sour and sore; no one likes to be pitied, especially those that deserve it.
I finish my food then stare silently at the floor. Miss Melody takes the plate from my limp hands and departs.
Abandoning me all alone with Julian.
We stay there in silence for what seems like ages, until, finally, he speaks, “You know, if you just told us the truth, we might be able to help,” That uneducated statement causes me to turn and eye him with amusement. He has no idea what he’s talking about and yet he thinks he can help me?!
“It couldn’t do any harm at least,” He continues, keeping eye contact with me. “We’ve already promised to let you go once you’ve healed, how can telling us the reason for everything hurt?”
I shake my head. The moment Miss Melody hears my plan, she’d do her utmost to prevent me from executing it. Of that, I’m positive.
“At least think about it, for Melody’s sake if nothing else,” With that parting remark he leaves me alone with my thoughts.
During the solitude; the peaceful, relaxing, safe, solitude. I work my tangled thoughts through and emerge with a plan.
If I pander to their whims by telling them something of what they want to hear, I might actually be able to use them to my advantage. So long as I don’t tell them the truth. Something close though could work.
So long as I phrase it right, I should be able to convince them I’m telling the truth. A truth they can believe.
With their help I might even be able to lessen the amount of violence needed to complete my goal. That is something I desperately want. I have to try; I don’t want any more blood on my hands if I can help it.
There is a clock in the room. By its hands I can tell it’s been hours since they left me. It’s now late afternoon, nearly evening. When they bring me more food, I’ll pretend to break either from hunger or plain old tiredness, depending on how long it is.
While I wait, I try to think up a believable story. Close enough to the real thing that it’s not too hard to remember, but far enough away from the truth that it’ll be plausible.
No one would believe the truth anyway, that I am a princess, Queen, dethroned, with my family murdered. It sounds like the ravings of a mad women, especially if I start about the man with the dragon tattoo.
I fall asleep, with deceit on my mind and awaken to the smell of freshly baked bread. Miss Melody is standing in the doorway. A big, if slightly strained, smile on her face and a plate of something in her hands. The door behind her is closed, most likely locked. So, no matter the expression on Miss Melody’s face, they still don’t trust me.
I wouldn’t trust me either. I don’t.
“Do you feel up to breakfast?” Miss Melody chirps cheerfully. She practically bounces over to me--I’m amazed she doesn’t drop the sandwich.
Seems like they’ve decided to smile me into submission--at least that’s Miss Melody’s idea. I accept the food she offers and her smile goes from strained to genuine, she’s no actor.
“You were sleeping so deeply last night, we thought it best no to wake you up for dinner. So, I’m sure you must be starving!” Still in the overly bubbly voice. She’s still not sure of me, but wants to believe the best.
This time I force myself to eat the food without showing worry. I still don’t trust her though, and I definitely doubt that Julian would be above spiking the food. But I doubt either of them know where to buy the dangerous drugs and poisons, so I just have to swallow my worry and do as I need to.
If I want this plan to succeed, I have to deal with the risk.
Once I finish, Miss Melody bounces off with the tray. I smother the giggle that forms before its escapes--I doubt even Miss Melody would believe such a sudden turn of face.
They leave me alone for another hour or so and then Julian comes in. He leans against the door with crossed arms, staring at me silently. Now this is funny, him giving me the silent treatment. Doesn’t he know I’m immune to it?
I stay quiet and unconfrontational. No need to let him know that I’m ready to talk straight away--let him sweat for it a bit. Call it payback.
It doesn’t take long for the silence to work on Julian. “Have you made up your mind to talk to us yet?” Julian enquires, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you just going to stay silent?”
I stare at him, trying to work up the courage to actually speak. Even though it’s my plan, I can’t seem to make my body oblige.
It takes too long and Julian throws his hands up in disgust. “Fine! Have it your way,” He announces angrily as he turns to leave. It’s now or never. If I’m going to speak, I have to speak now.
“Wait,”
It comes out a soft croak. I doubt he heard me. I clear my throat and try again. “Please wait,” Julian freezes halfway out the door. He slowly turns to face me, his eyes wide open in complete surprise.
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