Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,60

a blanket in its place. He was treating me as though I were broken. Foggy, stabbed, achy, yes. But I wasn’t broken. At least not yet.

The way he had me faced didn’t have a view of the toilet or sink, so I wasn’t able to see what he was doing. But I heard the water running and the toilet flush. I smelled the sweet scent of the soap. Then, there were footsteps and a rush of air as he knelt down beside me.

“The water is as hot as I could make it.” He lifted the blanket and tucked it up to my knees. “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

He dropped the soapy toilet paper onto my toes, and I jumped. “It’s okay. Put it back,” I said when he lifted the paper off me. “It was just hotter than I thought it would be.”

“Your toes are in pretty rough shape.”

I didn’t want to tell him about the babies. The less I talked about it, the easier it would be to get it out of my mind. I hoped.

“You’re making them feel more comfortable,” I said.

He left the clump soaking over my feet and moved up to my face, holding another clump of heat against my cheek. “Did someone bite you?” He ran his thumb over the mark on my bicep. “And stab you?”

“I…don’t know. I think I blacked out.”

A lie.

Another one to add to the growing list. I just didn’t want him to worry or to get violent the next time Beard came in to give us food. The gun Beard continued to flash at us every time he came into our cell made it impossible for us to try and escape or to win a fight if we tried to start one.

“Tell me what happened to you, Kyle.” His stare was so healing, so nurturing. But so helpless in this horrible place.

“It looks much worse than it feels. Like I said, I blacked out. I don’t remember much, besides waking up a few minutes ago.”

You lied. Again.

As he tended to my wounds, I relived it. There was no hope of forgetting it. Snapshots of how each mark was born—the torture, the threats, the promises. How every part of Breath’s body had been used to abuse me.

Every time I was taken from this cell, I returned in worse shape. I had to come up with a plan before there was nothing left of me.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked.

I didn’t know how many clumps of toilet paper he’d brought over, but there were now several on the ground. All of them were tinted a dark brown, but at least my skin was clean.

“You were gone for three days, I think. I counted how many times the window turned light and dark. And you’ve been back for at least one. You’ve been asleep since Beard dropped you off.”

All of that pain because I was unable to answer Breath’s simple question.

“I’m not going to let it go, Kyle. I want to know what he did to you.”

I lifted my hand to his face. The bruises were almost gone. The scrapes had all but healed. “Did they take you?”

“No.” His hand circled around my fingers and squeezed. “Answer me. I know you remember.”

Everyone wanted answers.

“Garin—” My voice was cut off by the look in his eyes. There was so much anger in them. I was worried about his fists, and what he was going to do to the cement walls. “I survived. That’s what matters. Recounting the details isn’t going to help my breathing. It isn’t going to help you. And it certainly isn’t going to help us.”

“I want to kill them.”

“Shh.” I stuck my finger in the air, signaling him to come closer.

He wanted to protect me, and I loved that about him. He wanted revenge, and I loved that even more.

When he gave me his ear, I whispered, “They can hear you. There’s a microphone somewhere in here.”

It wasn’t on any of the walls or the ceiling. I’d looked at both of them so many times. I’d memorized them. Every bump, every rock, every dent in the concrete. It had to be somewhere I couldn’t see.

I pointed at the windowsill.

He moved over to it, gripping the ledge to pull himself up. He was only up there for a second before he lowered himself back down.

Camera? I mouthed.

Microphone, he mouthed back.

He returned to the wall that I was now leaning against, and he sat next to me. He wrapped