Delirious || Bozari

Chapter Thirty-One: Mari

The spider crawled along the floor in front of her.

Mari watched it go, its orange and black legs moving it across the ground. It looked like it was covered in hair, and there was a white symbol that looked like a cross on its abdomen.

She used to be scared of spiders. Whenever she'd found one in her house, she'd make whoever lived with her, be it her parents, roommates, or Peter, kill it. They had terrified her. Her nightmares had been full of them, their spindly legs crawling all over her skin.

But she'd faced far more vicious creatures now, ones that made spiders look like dust. The sight of the spider didn't make her feel anything.

Slowly, she brought her hand from where it had been placed on her crossed legs and put it in front of the arachnid. It crawled onto her skin, tickling her slightly as it did.

Mari brought her hand in front of her face, examining the creature closer, making sure that it never crawled onto the rest of her arm with her other hand. Watching it move was the most excitement she'd had in hours.

Truth be told, she had no idea how long she'd been in here. Ericka had left what felt like days ago, but Rebel had only brought her three meals; dinner, breakfast, and lunch. The fact that it had been less than twenty-four hours seemed insane to her. 

It was the boredom, really. Atomic had had the ability to slip into her own mind and distract herself there, with thoughts of Silver and violence. Mari couldn't. She didn't miss much about being Atomic, but that; that was a gift she'd never get back. Not unless she shocked herself.

So the boredom sunk in, and she was stuck in here, the minutes ticking by like hours. Every once in a while, one of Ericka's girls would come and gawk at her through the glass, wanting to see if the rumour was true. There must be rumours; Rebel wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut, and she knew for a fact that Atomic was dead. The entire Compound must know by now.

Whenever a girl showed up, Mari would stare at them until they were unnerved enough to leave. Being gawked at was the last thing she needed right now.

The other thing she definitely didn't need was time to herself. Time to think. Thinking was dangerous to her, now. Because Mari was terrified of herself.

Wes had fucked her up more than he possibly could've known. Everything he'd put her through; the kidnappings, the murders, the constant fear for her life and safety, and, of course, the torture. The scars on the side of her head burned whenever she thought about it, as if she was still strapped to that table, an electric current flowing through her brain. All of it, combined, gave her more trauma than she could deal with.

She didn't know if she wanted to scream, cry, or punch something. Maybe all three. Maybe she just wanted to die.

He'd killed her. The Mari Takahashi who had accepted Wesley Johnson as a patient had been murdered a long time ago. Her blood was on his hands, along with that of all his victims.

After the first kidnapping and escape, when she'd gone back to ballet, she'd tried to put her past behind her. She'd written her book as a way to confront her trauma and forget about it. She'd gone to countless sessions with multiple different therapists, trying to resolve her nightmares about him. None of it worked. She was still trying to find a solution when she'd gotten the call from Agent Bereta.

Maybe, if she'd coped with her trauma better in the year that he was locked away, she wouldn't have been as vulnerable to him as she was. She still remembered how she felt on the roof of that car. That acceptance, that surrender to him, her mind finding a way to fit him in to relieve the pain that he brought. If he hadn't brought her into the electroshock therapy room, she never would've tried to escape. She'd have let the fucked-up part of her brain take over the rest of it and try to live her life as his docile girlfriend.