Page 10 of Trapped

“Espèce de merde,” I swear, irritated. “Who’s he to tell me what to do anyway? Who’s anyone to tell me what to do?” Letting go of the tree, I rest my hands against my upper legs, shaking myself a few times. “Enough of this,” I decide. Enough of the drugs, of this game, of this psychological mindfuckery. “You can’t tell me what to do! “ I let out.

It feels so, so good.

Expanding my chest, I take in a deep breath of air.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” I rumble a little louder. My knees buck, but my eyes see clearer. Yes, this is helping. Taking in another inhale, I open my mouth wider this time as I cry out the same phrase. And again. And again. I continue until I’m left a shuddering, panting mess. But fuck me, do I feel better. Tears roll down my flushed, covered cheeks. Yeah, much better.

“Sir?”

I flinch at the sudden greeting and my head jumps up, eyes creating a teary, hazy sight. For the shortest of seconds, I wonder if I should hide.

As if he can hear my thoughts, the bodyguard, who slowly approaches me from the sand trail, lifts his hands in defeat. One of them is carrying a bottle of what seems to be water. I lick my lips at the thought. “No need to run away from me, I’m not participating in the games.”

I slowly make my way out of the bushes. “Does that mean that it’s finished?”

He’s one of the bodyguards who awaited me earlier tonight, at the given time and place in the gardens outside. The one who placed the mask in front of my face and tightened it behind in my nape. He seems vaguely familiar, but it’s difficult to place him because of our current position in the woods. The bodyguard gives me an apologetic smile. “Not quite. But I’ve come to bring you some water. You must be thirsty.” He holds out the bottle that I eye suspiciously.

“Does everyone get water?”

“No.” He shakes it a little in an invitation for me to grab it and I can’t help licking my lips at the sight. He’s right, I am thirsty. “But you must be thirsty. It hasn’t been spiked, I promise.”

“Yeah? And what’s your promise worth to me? Nothing.”

His smile widens. “He told me you’d be snappy.”

Snatching the bottle out of his hand, I glare at him. “Who?”

The one who chose me.

I swallow the thought down altogether with a big sip of water. It feels great.

“You already know who, sir.” He watches me take a few more sips, then takes the bottle back into one of his large hands, surprising me as he leans forward. “He’s watching you,” he murmurs. Then he turns around and walks away. Leaving me there, on that trail, right between two torched beacons, bewildered.

Wait! I imagine shouting after him. Don’t you walk away from me, you son of a bitch. Don’t you… But he’s been swallowed up by the shadows.

I stay like that, just standing there, staring into the void of the forest and vanished silhouettes, for what feels like a long time. My thoughts are accompanied by a steady thumb that creates even more chaos inside my head, making my mind swim.

“I want to go home,” my thoughts voice out loud, words coming out slurred. “Where’s home? Where the fuck is home?”

I grimace. Guess that drink was spiked after all. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s my family catching up with me through my head, accusing me of trying to get into their precious fraternity. Accusing me for being different from them. Accusing me for being into art.

The usual bite stays away. So many years of fighting, and I’ve grown tired. Or maybe it’s just my head…

One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all

“Maman.” My mind whispers.

It’s been so long.

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?”

At the sound of that smooth, teasing voice I spin around so fast that I lose balance and hit the ground on my knees. The sharp sting makes me hiss, sand burning my palms as I reach out the ground for stability. I look up from below my hair, and fear seizes me when I see who’s found me. Who was apparently watching me.

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