He twitched aside the curtain and looked out over the rugged landscape. In the distance, he could see the sea, whipped up into a froth by a raging wind.
What horrors awaited him here? It might once have been a spa, but Tyler clearly hadn’t sent him here for a holiday. He expected Alex to return broken and obedient. How was Belvedere going to achieve that? What did it evenmeanto be broken? How did that look, sound, and behave? More to the point, what would satisfy Tyler that he was a broken man? Nothing he’d done so far had convinced his houder of that, so what would?
Hefeltbroken. His entire body ached and he walked like an old man. He was weary to his soul. Surely he’d been broken long ago on a country lane, crouching beside his mother’s body? How much of him was there left to break?
He tore his mind away from such useless questioning and shuffled to the bathroom. Like the dormitory, it was a study in white, from the shiny tiling on the walls to the pristine towels hanging neatly over the heated rail. Another huge mirror took up all of one wall.
It felt good to wash away his time under Tyler’s roof. He wasn’t free here, but at least there was some respite from the strain of being in proximity to his houder.
He stepped out of the shower and stopped in shock as he caught a glimpse of himself naked in the mirror. His skin was almost as white as the tiled walls. His cheekbones and jaw jutted out sharply and his eyes were sunken with great purple shadows beneath them. His body was emaciated, all his ribs showing clearly through a thin covering of flesh. Yet, what shocked him more was that his reflection was so wispy and insubstantial. The light from the frosted window glanced off the white walls, giving him a ghostly appearance. He stared at his reflection and a wraith stared back. In this place, he was called Alexander Tyler. Was that who he was now?
“My name is Alexander Lytton,” he announced to nobody but himself, writing it in the condensation on the mirror. It was his name, but it felt taboo to say it out loud. “Alexander Lytton,” he said again, louder. His gaunt face stared back at him, unconvinced.
“MY NAME IS ALEXANDER LYTTON!” he screamed. His reflection’s chest heaved with emotion. “That is who I am,” he rasped tearfully. “I will never,everbe Alexander Tyler.” His reflection jerked his head in grim acknowledgement, and he calmed down, convinced that he had found himself again. He was about to turn away when he heard a whisper of doubt niggling away at the back of his mind.
But who is Alexander Lytton?
During those long, terrible months as Tyler’s whore, he’d fought so hard to hold on to his identity, seeking some glimmer of himself in the mirror every day. Now he wasn’t sure what he was searching for anymore.
Who are you?
Wiping away the steam with his towel, he scrubbed out his name so he could look at himself clearly again. The apparition became more substantial, gazing at him questioningly.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. How was it possible to protect an identity he didn’t even have? “I’m Solange’s friend,” he said at last. Maybe that was all he had left of himself. If so, it was the best part of him, and he was happy enough with that.
He turned his back on the mirror and dried his body, then pulled on the white bathrobe provided. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to keep his clothes, so he retrieved the photo of Solange that Ted had given him and tucked it into a small gap behind the bathroom mirror, where he hoped it wouldn’t be found.
There was a slight, nerdy-looking man waiting for him when he returned to the dormitory. He had thin blond hair pulled back into a ratty-looking ponytail and was wearing a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and a white coat, a colour that seemed to be obligatory here.
“Ah, Mr Tyler.” The man smiled at him. “I’m C, the doctor.”
“Doctor C?” Alex snorted. “Earlier I met B. What is this place – Alphabet Mansion?”
The doctor gave a little chuckle. “We find it’s easier this way.”
“So I don’t learn your real names and use them against you when I get out?”
C looked surprised. “No, not at all. It’s just that you’re here to learn, not become attached to the staff.”
That was a strange reply, but Alex suspected he was going to find many things about this place strange, so he didn’t query it further.
The doctor was accompanied by a medibot, and he proceeded to oversee a medical exam that was both gentle and thorough.
“You’re underweight,” he said, glancing at the scale when Alex stepped on it. “Have you been fed adequately?”
“Yes,” Alex replied honestly, “I just haven’t had much appetite lately.”
“I see.” C frowned. “Will you eat for us here? We have a good chef.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Please do. You really are very malnourished at the moment. Let me know if you have any favourite dishes. Our chef will be happy to provide them for you. Now, please remove your bathrobe for me.”
Alex did as he was ordered, throwing the robe onto a nearby chair. C looked at him in shock, his astonished gaze travelling over Alex’s bruised and scarred body, his eyes full of sympathy as he took in his new patient’s poor condition.
“I see that you’re healing from a significant trauma. Are you in pain?” C asked, his fingers spidering gently over Alex’s back.
“A little. It’s better than it was, though.” That was an understatement, given how bad the beating had been.
