River probably wanted me to humiliate myself by pissing right here.
…fifty, sixty…
Wait. I shook my head. I got it wrong again.
…thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two…
I didn’t know why I was counting anymore. I’d tried to search for patterns in the thread count of the burlap bag, but it wasn’t bright enough. It strained my eyes. So I’d started counting to one hundred instead, over and over.
…sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six…
“Ow…” I whimpered as I tried to stretch my arms within my confines. The cuffs weren’t that tight; my wrists didn’t hurt much. My shoulders, though…fucking hell. Tears streamed down continuously at this point, and my breath kept hitching on a cry. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to pee and then sleep for a week in River and Reese’s bed.
I tried to stretch my neck a little. Never knowing when that loud-as-fuck music or laughter would return had forced me into a position where I was keeping my head lowered. Ready to press one ear against my shoulder to drown it out.
What number was I on?
Fuck. I had to start over.
One, two, three, four, five…
I missed Reese. I wanted him here to comfort me and tell me everything was gonna be all right, even though I already knew.
I was fucking pathetic!
I snarled to myself and took a deep breath, which I promptly choked on when I heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening. Holy shit. My heart started pounding instantly, and I turned toward the sound. They’re here! They’re back! They’d actually left me. So, there had to be a camera of some sort, right?
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I rasped. “Please. I beg you.”
“I put my knife around here somewhere…”
The low muttering had to belong to River, and I was so relieved to hear a voice other than my own that I became weepy.
“River, is that you?” I croaked. “May I please, please, please go to the bathroom?”
“Riv—”
“Quiet,” River snapped. At me, I assumed.
Emotions surged forward. The defeat was too crushing. It hurt my heart—like, my goddamn feelings. Hell, everything hurt. There was pressure on my chest, my eyes stung, and my throat closed up. A rushing sound in my ears prevented me from deciphering anything, though I thought I could hear whispering.
“Grade your pain level, boy,” River ordered.
“Almost eight.” I swallowed hard, refusing to sob like a baby.
I went rigid and steeled myself as one of them came closer. Something heavy and metallic clanked against the floor. At the same time, a door opened and closed.
I jumped at the contact when two hands materialized along my sides.
“Stand up,” he commanded quietly. It was River’s voice. I was certain now.
He didn’t touch my arms but tightened his grip on my sides and hoisted me up.
“Ow,” I whispered. Every joint and muscle hated me.
Uncuffing me was next. He stuck a key into the lock, and I heard the little snick.
“Careful when you move your arms now.” He removed the handcuffs. “So, you’ve been sitting here this whole time?”
No, I went fucking shopping.
“Where else would I go?” I groused.
He flicked the back of my head with a finger. Who the hell did that anymore? My mom did it when I was little.
“I meant, you’ve been sitting here on your ass the whole time,” he said. “You haven’t gotten up to stretch your legs or anything.”
Oh.
I…didn’t know what to say. Why hadn’t I gotten up? Why hadn’t the thought even entered my stupid brain? The silent tears kept rolling down my cheeks, but for every inch I brought my arms forward, the pain intensified and messed with my head. I was losing my footing. It’d been such a long day. How long had I been in this room, or wherever I was? Six, seven, eight hours?
“I’m tired,” I mumbled.
“No, you’re just weak.”
I flinched.
By the time my arms were hanging limply along my sides, River left his spot and walked away. But he wasn’t leav—
“Gah!” I recoiled at the sudden downpour of cold water, which automatically made me lift my arms—and my God, that hurt. Owww. Was I in a freaking shower? My voice echoed, though. Like, enough that it’d convinced me I was in a bigger space. My voice carried farther than it would in a small shower.
No, no, no, this was too much. I couldn’t process anything anymore. The cold turned warm, but there was never a second left over to relax. One pain set off another. If it wasn’t my arms or my itchy face, it was the cramps from having to piss or exhaustion or hunger or thirst… I could drink. The waterdrops trickled into the burlap sack, and I tried to catch them with my tongue.
“You’re still not moving,” River said, baffled. “What the fuck is wrong with your head? Two steps sideways and you’d be away from the water, but you won’t even try. You can’t think that far. If I came at you with a knife, would you just stand there and bleed out?”
I screwed my eyes shut and felt a wave of shame roll over me.
What was wrong with me?
“Fucking useless,” he laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room and reverberated in my skull. “And since you insist on standing there, even when I’ve told you that you can move, let’s test my theory.”
What was he going to do?
Fear twisted my insides.
A small voice at the back of my mind screamed at me, urging me to move, urging me to think faster, urging me to react. But where would I go? I was so tired, and I couldn’t focus on anything for longer than fragments of moments.
“No!” Panic slashed through me as something
