ChapterFour:Evaluation
1067 Words
My dad stood there in the doorway. Watching.
“You looked,” he said.
I couldn’t answer.
“I warned you.”
My mouth went dry. i..i didn't look
You want to know huh? A pause.
Somethings are better left the way they are Cleo..
Try to convince Sophie out of worry, find a way so nobody gets hurt.
And he was gone.
..........................................................................................
—Mia—
They came for me again. but this time there were no introductions or blinding lights.
Just the hiss of the door sliding open, and two guards in black opening up the lock. i could not move even if i wanted to
I was so weak, my body sore, my hand numb and palm blue from the lack of blood flow
Even my stomach ate away itself and hunger twisted my intestines
i had thrown up from all the crying and the withdrawal from whatever i was stabbed with and i was already half conscious
One of them barked, stepping forward. “On your feet.”
I could not speak loud enough but i managed to utter: "please i...i cant"
"Pick her up" she must not die.
I thought she would be stronger. They let out a blood curling Laughter laced with mockery and scorn. Have i not had enough? i thought to myself
As they lifted me like a bag of Flour i winced in pain fron the ache and stiffness. In my mind i was already negociating with death because his touch could feel warmer
They carried me through a long, dim corridor. The floor was too clean, too quiet. their boots slapping softly against the cold tile.
I didn’t ask where we were going.
I already knew it didn’t matter.
I closed my eyes as the rhythm of thier movement rang across the corridor, music to my ears
Eventually, they stopped at a room . "keypad clicking". One guard punched in a code and the door slid open to reveal a white space that smelled like bleach and something sweeter…
they lay me down into a somewhat clinical bed. I opened my eyes slightly to see a figure standig close to me.
A woman, clipboard in hand, heels clicking sharply as she walked closer.
She was tall. Elegant. Her eyes were rimmed with dark liner and her mouth was set in a tight, judgmental line.
I could place the other smell now.. it was perfume and the warmness of the room made my frozen body feel ease.
She looked at me like I was mud on her designer boots.
“So this is the Whitmore girl.” Her voice was clipped, British maybe, polished but cold. “Took long enough.”
I didn’t speak. more humiliation i thought to myself.. i wanted to cry but i was dry on water. dehydrated at this point
She gestured to the man at the other corner of the room. “cut her loose” and strip her.. i need to see what i am working with
The word landed like a slap.
“What?”
She didn’t repeat it.
One of the guards grabbed my arm and snapped the cord loose witha knife as sharp enough to cut through stone.
“I said strip her,” she snapped. “Clothes off. Hair up. youre wasting time. We’re not running a circus.”
My hands shook. My chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. I opened my mouth to argue—then closed it.
There was no point.
He pulled the thin gown over my head. Our eyes locked, and he looked away as he took down my underwear, he was more careful everytime i winced in pain
Shame burned down my back. I layed there, exposed, beneath fluorescent lights that made every bruise and scar feel like it was screaming.
The woman circled me.
Her heels echoed across the sterile floor.
She didn’t touch me, but her gaze was invasive enough.
“Hips are decent,” she said, scribbling something. “Waist could be tighter. Breasts.. passable. Skin — dry. Face… plain. Marketable, but not standout.”
"Call the nurse" she gestured.
Her words cut sharper than any blade.
Like I wasn’t right there. Like I couldn’t hear her.
I swallowed hard. she was'nt even the nurse, she was just salt added to injury.
She stopped in front of me, eyes scanning my face like she was appraising fruit at a market.
“You’ll clean up fine with the right styling. The Boss has… selective taste. He prefers obedience over beauty anyway.” She walked away heels like gunshots
The Boss.
There it was again.
My stomach turned.
Shortly after i heard footsteps, this time more subtle and another woman came in front of me and her eyes were more kinder.
The nurse’s hands were a little bit firm, but not unkind as she cleaned the raw cuts on my wrists, her touch was enough to sting my already bruised body. “Hold still,” she murmured, her voice clipped but not cruel. “You’ll heal faster if you let me clean all these wounds.
She put water in a plastic cup and gave me to drink, it felt like putting water in a dessert, i felt relieved from the chains of dehydration.
My voice was low. “Where am I?”
The nurse didn’t look up, just reached for fresh gauze. “Somewhere safe enough for now.”
“That’s not an answer,” i pressed.
A faint pause — then she wrapped the bandage with precision, and as she fixed the cannula she finally spoke “Answers aren’t mine to give.” Her tone carried a finality that warned me not to push too far.
She put a thin fabric hospital gown over my body now covered with plasters and bandages.
A cold drip was attached to her arm, the slow, steady flow of liquid cooling my veins.
For the first time since i had been dragged here, the throbbing aches in my body eased. my eyes slowly fluttered shut, the nurse’s muted footsteps receding toward the door.
Relieved but fragile, i lay there covered with a thin blanket.
But before the darkness of sleep could fully take me, i was violently woken by a sharp clang echoeing from somewhere beyond the walls , heavy metal against metal.
Followed by a muffled scream.
The blanket of relief tore away.
- Writer
