Undefeated

Part 3: A New World

The man takes off his white jacket revealing a black shirt underneath. He presses the white jacket onto both sides of my shoulder as we walk in an effort to slow down the bleeding.

We make it to the bottom of the hill and I see a huge metal thing. It has wheels on it with windows. What the hell?!

The man suddenly opens a door and I nearly jump back.

"Is something wrong?" he asks in a deep voice, catching me even more off guard.

"What's this?" I ask.

"What do you mean? I'm asking you to get in." He points into the door to a leather seat. At least, I think it's a seat.

"I know but, what is this?" I gesture vaguely to the metal object and he gives me a bewildered look.

"It's... a car?" He questions, looking between me and this thing.

"A car? What does it do?" I gently poke at it, walking around it.

"It drives you to places. Why? Do you not know what a car is?" He leans against it and crossed his arms, following me with his darkened eyes.

"No. When were these things invented?"

"I... don't know, exactly. Probably in the 1800s, I guess."

The question pops into my mind and I work to keep bile within my stomach. With all my effort, I croak out my concerns. "What year is it?"

He blinks quickly and looks at me with dilated pupils. "It's 2021, did you hit your head?"

"No, just a joke. Let's go, shall we?" I'm doing my best not to start crying, realizing that I've been in that disgusting cell for two centuries.

I awkwardly get into the 'car' and hear him close the door behind me. The smell of leather and vanilla fills my sinuses and I can't help but look around.

He opens the door on his side and gets in his seat in one swift motion.

Maybe I shouldn't ask him any more questions, he's already pretty suspicious.

The sight of his face close to mine snaps me out of my thoughts and I practically sink into the back of my seat. His arms reaches over and grabs some sort of strap, pulling it out in front of my torso.

"Lift up your right arm," he mumbles. I quickly oblige and he maneuvers it around my arm, clicking it into place beside my left thigh.

I watch him pull his own over his body and grab a ring of keys from his pant pocket.

The car starts and my body jumps upward, looking around frantically.

"Uh... are you alright?" he asks. I catch my breath and nod at him, looking forward.

Just when I thought everything was fine, the car starts to move. My heart jumps and I hold back a gasp.

Holy sh*t. Whoever invented this thing is a genius! No more horseback!

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    "Can you please look away?" I sheepishly ask, staring at the bandages on the bathroom counter.

    "I have to dress your wound though..." he gives me a concerned look and I return the expression.

    "I prefer if you don't look at it," I mumble and give a shrug.

    "If it makes you more comfortable, that's fine. Do you want me to tell you what to do, though?"

    "Yes, please. Can you maybe just stand behind the door?"

    He nods and exits the bathroom, closing the wooden door with a click. Once I make sure he can't see me whatsoever, I manage to reach the zipper on my back and unzip the jumpsuit.

    I pinch the bland, beige fabric and watch intensely in the mirror. I begin to slowly pull it off my shoulder, fighting back any reaction.

    A burn scar. A knife scar. Another burn scar. Some suture scars. A surgical scar. Even more disgusting burn scars.

    I can barely find any normal skin at this point. I take in a shaky breath and try to shift my focus to the bullet wound.

    "Okay, I'm ready," I call towards the door.

    He begins to explain what to do, warning me about anything that might hurt as I do it.

    It's sloppy, but soon enough I finish wrapping the bandage around the wound and zip my jumpsuit back up.

    I open the door and see him leaning on the wall right beside it. He quickly turns his head to me.

    "I'm done, thank you." I begin to walk to the front door when a hand grabs my uninjured shoulder, turning me around.

    "Where the hell are you going?" He questions, crossing his arms.

    "Well, I'm done here, so I have no reason to be here anymore." He lets out a sigh.

    "You don't have anywhere to go, though," he says while looking into my eyes.

    "I don't want to trouble you by stayi-"

    "You won't trouble me, I promise."

    I tap my foot and look to the ground, freezing when my stomach rumbles.

    "Come to the kitchen, I'll get you something to eat."

    He walks towards where his kitchen is, leaving me standing in the main room. Something to eat? Something I can taste, chew, and swallow?!

    I haven't eaten in decades, I think. I'm still having trouble tracking time.

    My feet mindlessly bring me towards the direction he walked to, and I find myself standing beside him at the counter.

    "I'm making cinnamon toast, hope you like it."

    I give an eager nod and he smirks, shifting his concentration back to the bread. I watch him place two slices in a strange metal object on the counter, pushing down a switch.

    "Oh!" I exclaim, making him look at me. "My name is Imogen, but you can call me Minnie."

    "Like Minnie Mouse," he replies. Who's Minnie Mouse? "My name is Dane."

    "Nice to meet you, Dane." We share a smile, making small talk.

    Suddenly, the object on the counter launches the bread upwards with a loud thunk, making me fall to the floor and move away quickly.

    "I guess you're a little jumpy," he mentions, removing the toast and plating it. I sit at the table in embarrassment and he puts a plate in front of me, sitting down beside me with his own plate.

    I suppose I live with him, now.