Sunshine peered in through the windows. Its warm glow lingered over my face, yet it did nothing to lift my mood like it used to. I had just woken up from another long nap that took up a good third of my day thanks to the heavy meds I was on; though, to be honest, I didn't want to be awake anyway. The past three weeks had been nothing but torment, and if there was anything that could relieve me of it, it was the deep abyss of my drug-induced slumber. At least, then, I was too numb to remember my nightmares.
Practically shackled to my hospital bed for the first week on this godforsaken island, I'd barely been allowed to move an inch without Darren's approval. Apparently, he wanted me to get as much rest as possible, so that meant the least amount of movement as possible. And in a way, I was almost grateful... because I had no desire to move even a single muscle. After one week of being bedridden, I had been forced to start moving around again. Apparently, it wasn't good to simply waste away in my hospital bed. Another lesson in learning my body's movements were not my own decision.
Every move was painful—even breathing hurt—but apparently, sleeping off my injuries wasn't in my recovery plan. My wrist, jaw, and ribs might be broken, but according to Darren and Sid, my legs worked just fine. I'd fought back winces and tears as I was forced to walk through the halls of the house, straining against the pain of breath, and showing none of it. I refused to let Darren see my pain. Just because he had broken my body didn't mean I had to act like it.
My wrist would remain in its cast for the next few weeks, and the wiring in my jaw proved to be the most uncomfortable and humiliating experience ever. I couldn't really speak. Only mumbles or inaudible sounds could escape my lips, so I eventually just gave up on my vocals altogether. Nurse Ginsby tried to teach me some simple sign language to help me communicate, but I was only interested in using the one containing a single middle finger.
Looking down at my bare left wrist, I found slight enjoyment in the lack of a particular silver cuff on my wrist. There was no need for them here. One was useless without the other, and I was on an island, for fuck's sake. Where the hell was I going to go? The others remained around my ankles, as did the collar around my neck. Even though I could bypass Darren's invisible electric fence, the collar itself had a greater purpose than just keeping me within my confines. It was the reminder that I did not belong to myself, that I was not of equal standing... because I still belonged to him, as if the tattoos on my wrists weren't enough of a reminder. At least I only had to endure the sight of one of them... for now.
I was now at the end of my third week of recovery, and the pain in my jaw was finally starting to fade, or maybe I was so doped on painkillers I didn't notice it anymore. Sid said it was healing well, and that I'd be able to have the wiring removed in a week or so. I couldn't wait to get the fucking thing off. Not being able to open my mouth or speak made things even harder than they already were. I could tell Darren was enjoying the silence, even though I didn't have shit to say to him anyway.
Thankfully, since my panic attack the last time I'd seen him, he stayed away most of the time. Sid felt it would help speed up my recovery if I was less stressed, and seeing Darren always pissed me off and stressed me out. Surprisingly, Darren had agreed, but he still managed to get his fill of me at night when I was asleep. Ginsby would tell me if he was on the island; he'd sit by my side for hours, watching over me as I slept my pain away. She thought it was sweet, but I knew it was anything but. Sometimes, I could still feel his presence the following morning—smell his cologne—and it often chilled me to the bone knowing he was there and I was helpless.
Apparently, Darren still had a lot going on back home from all the damage I managed to cause, plus his usual business. A single word hadn't been uttered about the status of my family, nor the outcome of my "funeral," and in a way, I was glad. If something had happened, I didn't want to know. I wouldn't be able to change it, and it would only set my recovery back by weeks. I figured if Darren had done something, he would have told me to ensure my continued obedience...or to simply torture me. But still, the uncertainty about it made me nervous because eventually, I would find out, and I couldn't do shit about it. After all, Darren had said he was a man of his word.
I realized now that I could never really hurt Darren. Not physically, in the way I wanted. After what he did to me in that jail cell after escaping him, it was obvious to me he had been holding back so much; I was just too proud to see it. I was stupid if I thought I could withstand his physicality. It's not like it would ever be difficult for Darren to subdue a 120-pound girl, now technically 110.
I was so sure of myself. So sure I could handle him, but I was wrong, and now, I was paying for it.
For some reason, I didn't expect him to hurt me so badly, but thinking about it now, I realized the pain he inflicted on me wasn't what constituted my punishment; it was my recovery. It was taking away my skillset and replacing it with discernable vulnerability. My skills were useless now that my body was broken. And that was Darren's message to me: "You may have skills, but I can easily take them away." Fucking asshole. I'd be lucky if I could complete a butterfly kick by the end of the year.
My vulnerability was terrifying. I couldn't defend myself for shit, and it was the worst feeling in the world. If something happened, I was useless, and in a situation where you're constantly threatened, and your guard is always up, it really is the worst feeling in the world. I hated being left in such a weakened state, left to depend on others to take care of me. Every time I tried to do something on my own, Hank, my new shadow and bodyguard, would rush over and stop me. Everything I did required assistance, whether I needed it or not.
I sat in the cushioned reading nook of my medical suite and leaned against the large bay window. My tablet in my lap, I was listening to calming music and failing miserably at reading my book. Nurse Ginsby was preparing another bowl of chicken broth for me now that it was lunchtime. I had gotten so fed up with the smoothies, but it was all I could eat until my mouth was unwired. I had lost nearly ten pounds from my new liquid diet, losing my muscle tone along with it since I wasn't exactly working out anymore. I felt like I was withering away, both physically and mentally.
At least I had Ginsby to keep me company, though she wasn't much for conversation, but then again, neither was I. I had Hank, but he never spoke much, not unless he was telling me what to do. He never let me out of his sight. Whenever I had to leave my suite, he escorted me, which wasn't often since I had no desire to ever leave my room anyway. Upon Darren's approval, I could roam the house, but I had zero interest in going anywhere or doing anything. I preferred to just sleep.
Darren informed me that when I fully recovered, I would have two guards since he didn't trust me with just one. There was a compliment in there somewhere, but in the end, it just made me feel more hopeless. I had strived so hard for freedom, yet I set myself back further than when I had first started. I couldn't allow myself to get upset about it, though. I knew the risks as well as the consequences, and now, I had to live with them. It didn't make the situation suck any less, though.
Broken, defeated, and restrained, I didn't know what hope I had to escape Darren a second time. I knew I would have to kill him first, but just the simple thought of that was exhausting, especially since there was a prerequisite to complete first — namely, his empire. I wasn't giving up, though. I promised myself that and I promised Jason. I owed it to my family and to everyone else who had ever been wronged by Darren's organization. But it didn't mean I couldn't wallow in a little self-hatred for a while. I'd earned it, after all. I was just so tired of being stronger than I felt. It was exhausting. I needed a break... and I suppose I was getting it... literally.
"Here's your soup," Ginsby said with a smile, breaking me from my train of thought. She handed me the thermos, and I took it from her, placing it in my lap and returning to my book. "Oh, I should inform you," she began a little nervously, "Mr. Davis would like for you to join him for dinner tonight."
My stomach immediately dropped, as did my appetite. I gave her an incredulous look before turning to my tablet. I pulled out the stylus and began to write on the notepad app.
'Why,' I wrote.
She shrugged. "He just does, dear. He's been gone for over a week now and would like to see you."
Best week of my life.
I cleared my notepad and wrote 'great' on it and flashed it to her.
"We'll need to get you ready in a couple of hours. He'll be arriving on the island around six p.m."
Fucking. Fabulous.
****
I spent the next several hours sitting in a shower chair while Ginsby helped to wash me. It was difficult to wash my body and hair with a busted wrist and ribs. For the longest time, I tried on my own, but it took me forever, and the struggle just wasn't worth it anymore. At first, I didn't like the idea of Ginsby washing me and seeing me naked, but eventually, I stopped giving a fuck. She wasn't much for beauty help, but she could flat iron my hair like it was her own. My hair was ridiculously long now, past my breasts and annoying as hell. I always managed to get it caught in something or lay on it wrong. For the most part, I kept it back in a ponytail and out of my way, but I knew Darren liked it down and fanned out.
When I was presentable, Hank escorted me to the dining room where I sat and waited for Darren to arrive. The moment I sat down, my long smooth hair fell into my face, and I just couldn't take it anymore. It was so long and annoying that I didn't care if Darren preferred it down. I took the hair tie from my left wrist and pulled my hair into a loose low ponytail. My hair was never this long, ever. I didn't have the time to manage it, and it just got in the way. I planned to ask for a real haircut soon, but I doubted Darren would grant it. He liked my hair long and still wanted it longer.
As Darren's doll, I had been dressed in a light yellow strapless sundress and glittery nude flip-flops for shoes. While my hair was straight and smooth, my face no longer had to bear the annoyance of makeup. Over the past few weeks, I hadn't worn any during my recovery, and Darren seemed to appreciate my natural beauty now, rather than mask it with something fake. Although, he expected to go the extra mile for special occasions apparently.
I never knew what the fuck he was thinking. Like he'd decide to suddenly wine and dine me, and I would finally settle down with my life and accept him. Sometimes, I honestly considered just giving in and forgetting about my vendetta. It would be a hell of a lot easier and definitely less exhausting. Maybe my rebellious soul would finally die and rest peacefully in Darren's pocket, leaving me to crumple into the complacent robot he so desperately wanted.
Normally, I was fairly vocal with my emotions, but since the wiring of my jaw, I had to learn to swallow them whole. There were so many times when I had almost choked on my own anxiety while I slowly drowned in my depression. I felt useless in my broken state, and totally helpless in my recovery. But I had to remind myself over and over again... this was only temporary. My body would eventually heal. Darren was not invincible, and I would inevitably kill him, no matter how long it took me.
Somewhere in the house, a door shut, and I listened to the thunderous steps that followed. My heart rate spiked, knowing it was Darren and that he was on his way toward me. Anxiety flooded my system, and I couldn't help but place my elbows on the table to rest my head in my hands. Knots tore away in my stomach while my head throbbed with a knowing pain at my temples. I could see Hank from the corner of my eye, watching me intently as I sat in silence and focused on my breathing rather than the impending torture of Darren's presence.
And then suddenly the footsteps stopped, and I felt a giant looming shadow behind me. I shuddered when I felt his warm breath against my skin.
I sucked in air as Darren's large warm hands came to rest on my bare shoulders. Heat bloomed under my skin where he touched me, and even though I hated him with every fiber of my being, I almost wanted more of it. I just wanted to feel good. I wanted to feel loved and cherished... and when he touched me like that, it felt real.
Darren dipped low and placed a gentle kiss on my neck. I closed my eyes as his lips on my skin forced my blood into an all-out marathon.
"Hello, princess," he drawled smoothly into my ear. My body immediately stiffened.
Fuck, that voice of his.
The knots in my stomach tightened from the mere sound of his voice. The deep baritone that could terrify and entrance all at the same time, and it made me shiver. His hands moved to gently pull my hair out of the ponytail and casually drape it over my right shoulder, and I couldn't help but flinch from his touch.
His breath tickled my neck, leaving behind a tingling sensation that I fought with all my might to ignore. Despite what this man had done to me, he was still able to leave me breathless with just the touch of his hand. I hated him for it, but I still craved it. The tip of his nose traced up the side of my neck, quietly inhaling me while his hands continued to burn into my shoulders.
"How I have missed you," he breathed into my ear.
My body was on the verge of trembling, not only from anticipation but also from fear. It may remember the pleasure, but it also remembered the pain. It knew he was the reason for my wired jaw, my useless wrist, and the sharp ache of each breath I took. But apparently, none of that could compare to how good he could make me feel, and it had been some time since he'd made my body erupt in total volcanic bliss.
Eventually, Darren stepped away from me, and my body shivered from his sudden lack of body heat. He pulled his chair out, unbuttoned his light gray suit jacket, and took his seat at the head of the table. He wore a white dress shirt underneath with a silver tie, matching his gray slacks as per usual. It was rare to see him out of a suit. Even on the island, he still conducted business via webcams or meetings on the nearest land outside of the island. At least, that was what Ginsby had been telling me.
I could feel Darren's eyes on me, but I just stared straight ahead out the window that gave me a perfect view of the white sandy beach outside.
Thankfully, the island staff brought out our dinner, interrupting the silence before Darren could. A tall bowl containing beef broth and teeny-tiny vegetables and noodles was placed in front of me with a large straw. It was still all I could manage until my jaw was unwired. I was beyond sick of this liquid diet. I longed for something solid in my stomach; so much so, that I wouldn't put it past myself to beg Darren for a fucking steak when I could finally open my mouth again. Darren started on his plate while I sucked small amounts of soup from my straw.
"I spoke to Sid today about the progression of your recovery," Darren said as he bit into the fresh island fish he'd been served.
I merely glanced at him to acknowledge I heard him. I knew he didn't like to be ignored.
"He said you're healing just fine, but he worries about your mentality."
I looked back at Darren confused. My mentality? The fuck was that supposed to mean?
"Hmm?" was all I could manage. I had been reduced to muffled sounds in order to communicate now unless I wrote it down my tablet.
"You've been diagnosed with depression, Jaden. I'm concerned."
I snorted. I couldn't help it. It never ceased to amaze me that he would never understand why I felt the way I felt. Of course, I was depressed—this wasn't news—but he would never guess why even if I spelled it out for him in capital fucking letters.
"Do you find this funny, Jaden? Do you think your recovery is nothing but a joke to me?" he replied sternly.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but then again, how could I be? He was the frickin' cause for my recovery in the first place. Darren apparently didn't see the irony and continued to glare at me until I backed down. I finally sat back in my seat and took another sip from my straw. I didn't have the energy to argue with him, nor did I have the verbal capacity.
"Tomorrow, the wiring in your jaw is being removed. If Sid doesn't see a change in your attitude by the end of next week, I'm putting you on an antidepressant."
My gaze immediately shot to him, my eyes lit up in shock. He would drug me with fake happiness? Fucking seriously? I gave him my pleading puppy dog look and shook my head.
He glared back at me with a warning in his eyes to let me know how serious he was. I had to do something to prevent this.
I quickly turned to my tablet and pulled out the stylus, writing intently with my stupid left hand since my right was still in a cast, and flashed the pad to Darren so he could read it.
'Compromise?' I wrote.
He barely even glanced at the tablet before the word no quickly left his mouth as he took a sip of his red wine.
I looked at him incredulously before rolling my eyes and setting the tablet down. Of course, it was a no. Darren slammed his fist down on the table in response, causing me to flinch in my chair.
"Goddammit, Jaden, this is not a game anymore!" he bellowed at me. "There are no more compromises. You will do what you're told, and that's final."
I looked at him with so much pain in my eyes I could practically feel them burning. No longer able to stand the sight of him, I shot out of my chair, ignoring the intense pain that raged through my ribs as I turned to leave the room. Hank immediately halted my attempt as he moved right in front of me, blocking my exit to the hallway. He then gently, but firmly, gripped my upper arm and escorted me back to my seat. Darren remained perfectly calm and seated as he nonchalantly took another bite of his fish while Hank forced me to sit back down. I crossed my arms and huffed an irritated breath through my nose as I stared straight ahead.
"Finish your dinner, Jaden," Darren ordered without looking at me.
I didn't move. Just stared out the window with hate in my eyes.
"I swear to God, little girl, you do not want to push me today," he warned, staring at me intently, that dangerous glare back in his eyes.
Fear gripped my heart again as I felt my body shudder from the look he was giving me. Honestly, what more would he do to me? He couldn't hurt me physically since he was so "concerned" about my recovery. If he took away any more privileges, I would definitely succumb to my depression, which would further slow my recovery. All this I had against him, yet I was too afraid of him to use any it. I no longer felt the need to test him because he would always exceed my expectations. Always.
Swallowing back my fear, I tried to keep my hand from trembling as I reached for my bowl and took a small sip from my straw, hoping to placate him. He seemed happy enough as he returned his attention to his dinner. We were silent for the rest of the evening. I managed to finish almost all of my water and most of my soup and took my evening medicine without complaint.
When we were finished, Darren gently took my hand and carefully pulled me from my chair to him. His other hand rubbed my arm up and down, softly caressing my skin as he looked me over. I kept my eyes down. I couldn't bear to look at him anymore.
Darren tugged me along to the parlor where a fire was flickering away in the white marble fireplace. Still holding my hand, he laid down on the couch and carefully pulled me down to lay on top of him.
Even with broken ribs, I had to admit for as solid as he was, Darren was quite comfortable to lay on. My cheek pressed against his chest while he continued to clutch my hand near his heart, his other hand gently soothing me by rubbing my back and playing with my hair. I stared off into the fire, listening to Darren's heavy pounding heartbeat.
What I would give to hear it stop...
Eventually, his hands began to travel into my hair, and I found myself lulled into a trance of warmth and comfort. Darren might be a raging hurricane, but his softer side almost made him tolerable. I craved this part of him; the part that made me feel special and cherished... even though I didn't want to be.
Darren's lips brushed against my forehead as he kissed me sweetly, rubbing my arm up and down until he finally exhaled a long heavy breath.
"You're going to go for a walk on the beach tomorrow," he suddenly said. I tensed slightly, confused at his words. "I think the sunshine will do you some good. You're looking paler than usual," he finished.
I nudged him slightly, letting him know I heard him. I didn't have much interest in venturing outside my room or the island itself. I'd rather sleep my pain away than deal with it. But maybe he was right. Maybe some sunshine would do me some good. My skin was looking pretty pasty, after all.
Eventually, I felt my eyelids grow heavy. I knew it was still early, but my meds often made me drowsy, especially after I had eaten something. I closed my eyes and released a heavy sigh as I allowed myself to slip into sweet unconsciousness.
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How does it feel reading book 3, are you excited?