Mischief

Chapter 38

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I think it had been three weeks? Maybe four, or at least something similar to that. How was I supposed to know? I had no clock or watch or even sunlight so I never had any clue what time it was or how many days had gone past. The only thing that gave me any sort of idea was how my wounds healed. My leg had in fact gotten infected and filled with pus and had a weird, red/purple rash around the gash.

I was battered, bruised and had semi-healed, ugly scabs across my stomach arms and legs. I think my wrist was broken and maybe my nose.

They broke me down until I was literally just existing, nothing more. They had stripped me of my blood-stained clothes, thankfully leaving me in my underwear. They had tried everything they possibly could to get me to talk and at this point, I don't even know why I bothered keeping it from them. I mean, sure, they would probably just kill me as soon as they got the information out of me but at at least I wouldn't have to go through any more of this. I was kind of surprised that they hadn't already given up and just killed me or done God only knows whatever else they do to people like me around here.

Elijah had been down once. He didn't hit me or cut me or anything like that. He just crouched in front of me and asked me why I didn't just give Ace what he wanted. Apparently, Ace had sent him down here to hurt me because he was 'the best guy they had'. He left with no more knowledge than the rest of the guys.

I hadn't seen anyone in a while, I think they were trying to drive me mad with isolation. I honestly wonder if this is any better than being beaten all day I mean, at least with the torturing, I don't have the time to think about everything going on, mainly because I am in excruciating pain and also too busy trying to come up with snarky comments for the guys. Whereas this? The silence? It's unbearable.

I wonder what I would be doing if none of this ever happened, if I never walked into that warehouse. Would I be at a dumb slumber party with Sarah? Would I be arguing with my dad over the phone about when he was coming back from another one of his stupid business trips?

I sigh. "Okay, c'mon guys. I've had enough now. I want my tattoo guy back!" I shout towards the door, hoping there was someone out there to hear me. Of course, there was no response. 

This is probably the tenth time I have spoken to the locked door today? I have to say, I am improving. Yesterday it was at least twenty.

Suddenly, I hear slow footsteps begin down the hallway. I bounce my leg as they grow closer. I hear a few second of mumbling before the door slams open. I sigh. Dammit. "Your not who I wanted to see," I mutter, taking my eyes off Ace and staring back at the brick wall in front of me. The door was locked behind us and the dull fluorescent light was switched on. It flickered. It was the most triggering thing ever, I swear. It was probably more torturous than a lot of the other techniques these other guys have.

Ace ignores me and comes over, pulling a small wooden chair out from the table and propping himself down in front of me. I avoid his eyes, looking to the side of his head at the brick wall. I sit perfectly still. I really don't want to look at him right now. "Yvette." His voice was cold and emotionless, as usual. I stay silent. "Yvette," he demands, louder this time. I finally look at him. "Go bother another sad, little prisoner. I'm busy." I move my eyes back to the wall and sigh. 

"Why do you care about him?" Ace mutters, confused. I glance at him again. "Well I would explain it but generally, murderous, sociopathic bitches don't tend to understand very often and I don't want to waste my time." I smile sweetly at him. "Try me," he sneers. I roll my eyes. "Fine, it about Alex as such but rather my morals as a person. I feel like I would be betraying myself just as much as him," I explain slowly. I glance down at my attire and internally cringe. Why, oh why did I have to be in my underwear right now.