Spark ( Book 3: Stronger Series )

5. Worthless

My wrists burned in agony. Chains rattled above me. Dirt and sweat covered my body.

Where was I?

"Look at me, slave."

My heart stopped in its tracks. Slave...

My eyes snapped to find him, and then I immediately regretted it.

"There is no escaping this, and there is no escaping me. I am four times your size and over twice your weight. My strength and speed will always exceed yours. Always. Whatever hope you have left of beating me in this little game is false as well as foolish. In what world do you ever imagine escaping me and your future?"

"FUCK!" I screamed as I jolted from my hospital bed.

My heart was pounding out of my chest, my face was sweaty, and my breath was coming in and out of my lungs like I might die if I didn't take my next breath that very second. I was back in my hospital bed; the last thing I remembered was passing out on my reading nook, so I didn't know how I got there. Hank probably.

Snagging the hair tie from my wrist, I bunched my hair back into a messy knot just to get it out of my face and ignored the ache in my wrist. When my hair was secure, I pulled my knees to my chest, rested my temple against my knee, and looked out the window. The sun was rising, and the birds were already awake. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on their songs, hoping to calm the storm raging inside me. I stayed like that until Ginsby finally entered my room unannounced.

"Oh, good, you're up," she said, surprised. "I brought your breakfast."

"Not hungry," I said without moving from my position.

"Jaden, please!" she shrieked, and I immediately snapped my head toward her in shock and concern, scowling in her direction. She quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry," she said in a huff, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You've just become so difficult these last two days."

For some reason, that was enough to make me feel bad. So I released a deep breath and traded my bed for the table, sat down, and attempted to eat my breakfast. Ginsby smiled and sat down to make sure I ate enough for Darren's approval. I silently picked at my egg white omelet and sipped on my orange juice until I was full, which consisted of only three-quarters of it, but whatever. Valiant effort and all.

After breakfast, I took a shower and changed into a flowing teal blue sundress, allowing my hair to air dry. I practiced my jaw and wrist exercises under Ginsby's instructions, took my medications without complaint, and was rewarded with a trip to the pool. Escorted by Hank and Benito, who were still pissed off from yesterday, I lounged in the shade with my tablet and tried to read for a while, but my thoughts kept lingering back to my conversation with Sid.

"You can choose to be a victim, or you can choose to be something else entirely."

The question was, what was that something else? What did it make me if I chose not to be a victim? I didn't know. Was there even another choice of status? I was the stolen, and as of a few weeks ago, officially the forgotten. I was gone, but I was still here... barely a survivor, but a survivor nonetheless. Yeah, I was wallowing in my self-pity; so much so, I probably deserved an Oscar for it. I was only depressed because my body was useless. End of. Once my strength returned, so would the rest of my fire-breathing antics. For some reason, it was just hard to find the mental motivation.

After a while, my lunch was brought out and placed on the table next to me. A bowl of hot creamy potato soup and a smoothie awaited me, but I wasn't interested in the soup. It was too hot outside for that, so I sipped on the smoothie instead.