Darius stutters, he whips around to stare into Sterling’s eyes. “What are you implying?”
“After this, she is going to become a Thorne.” Sterling steeples his hands. “You just need to prove to me that you have the balls to do what needs to be done. And then you both can have your happily fucking ever after.”
“But we’ll still be prisoners.”
“Yes, but you won’t be kept down here. You’ll be awarded a spot in the house. But that’s if you can prove to me that I can trust you. That you can do what needs to be done.” Sterling reaches out.
Darius wants more than anything to escape. To not be forced into what there is to come.
But he doesn’t have a choice. He can leave Sunday to endure all sorts of cruelties.
Or–
Darius shakes the monster’s hand.
21
October 5th
It’s been hours.
Separated from Darius, taken by a guard further into the underground prison, I was thrown into a locker room. Once inside, two women I don’t recognize whisked me through another door into a cold cement bathroom filled with a grid of baths and a line of sinks. The walls are a dirty white, each tub separated by nearly-clear plastic hanging from the ceiling, the ever-present fans above echoing around the space.
However, the smell was at odds, an array of floral and warm scents overlapping one on top of the other.
Stripped of my clothes I was forced into a tub and cleaned. The two women soaking and wiping and shaving and readying me. They remained silent through the entire encounter, their hair pulled back in neat, tight buns, their eyes dark and lifeless as they focused on the task at hand.
They treated me as if I were simply a job to complete, not a human being.
And then they dragged me out of the tub,dressedme, and left me without a single acknowledgement.
Now I stand in disgusting lingerie back in the locker room and with the crippling realization about what is to come.
I press my ear to the door to the outside, trying to figure out what is going on, how much longer I will be forced to wait.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
For the endless. For the inevitable.
“Here she is,” a guard from outside speaks, causing me to jump back.
With my back pressed flat against the far wall of lockers, I use my arms to wrap around my front. Trying to hide myself as best I can.
“I won’t be long.” I recognize the voice, and it ignites my ire.
Jutting my chin out and squaring my shoulders, I attempt to appear calm. To pretend that I am not terrified.
That ever since I stepped foot in this horrible nightmare, I haven’t been one step away from a complete breakdown.
“Sunday.” William marches until he is right in front of me. He looks over his shoulder through the open door at the guard. “Shut the door.”
The sheriff’s son. Maxwell’s best friend.
William.
“Why are you here?” I ask. My hands come up between us, trying to push him back, but he catches my wrists.
He stares at me with a critical intensity. “I can’t save you too. I can’t save anyone.” Wiliam’s hand comes up to my throat.
