Page 60 of Vicious

I let out a small cry, and I don’t know if it’s of relief or distress. I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with him.

None of it makes sense.

I don’t fucking know what I want anymore.

Those minutes where he’s gone stretch out endlessly. What if he never returns? What if he lied, and that punishment was only the beginning? I’m going to be locked in this basement forever, and all I have to look forward to is whippings that make me hate my body almost as much as I hate him.

I start crying even harder, and I can’t stop even when Chase returns.

“Shh, May, it’s all right,” he says, and while it sounds like he’s trying to sound soothing, it doesn’t reach me. “Are you thirsty? I brought water. And some snacks, too, to help you recover some of your energy.”

It’s preposterous to think a little bit of water and food could do anything to help me, and I give a small shake of my head. I try to curl up into the fetal position, crying out in a strangled sort of sound as my back stretches and the cuts threaten to pull farther apart. I’m going to end up having a panic attack at this rate, and I don’t want to feel even more helpless, even more dependent on him.

He slides into the bed next to me, and I tense, my back rippling as I try to pull away. I give up after a moment, and he pulls the sheet up over my ass.

Everything hurts.

My body, my mind, my soul, it all fucking hurts.

He puts a hand on my shoulder when I whimper again. “It’s all right. Just rest now, Ah-May. I’ll take care of you.”

Take care of me.

Those are such stupid words for him to say when he’s the reason I’m like this in the first place. The sound I let out is a mix of disbelief and dark amusement, somehow, and I rasp out, “No. Want to… want to be alone.”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he says, and there’s something in his voice I can’t put words to. “You’ll end up causing yourself real harm.”

“Real harm?” The thought is laughable—like this isn’t already real harm, like I’m not already in pain and confused and miserable. I lift my head slightly, trying to look at him and read the look on his face, but I can’t make sense of it. Finally, I just end up resting back against the pillow and closing my eyes.

“This will heal. But I don’t want to cause permanent damage, Ah-May.” He gently rubs my shoulder, and I don’t even have the energy to try to pull away.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t a thousand percent horrible.

Once I’d gotten over the initial surprise—once I’d realized how to relax into the blows—it hadn’t been that bad. I’d never tell him that. He’d probably preen and crow about it, before trying to come up with a worse punishment to make his doctor friend happy over a fucking mistake that I’d made.

And I’m not entirely certain Stef hadn’t exaggerated her reaction, either, which is something I don’t understand.

She’d mouthed that she was sorry, and I?—

I don’t want to think about her.

I don’t want to think about any of it.

“Just please go,” I mumble, even though the idea of being left alone down here in the dark, cold and in pain, sounds even worse than another whipping.

“That’s not a good idea, Ah-May.” His hand is so warm against my skin. In Chinese, he adds, “You need to be taken care of.”

“Not by you,” I mumble back in English.

I lean into his touch anyway.

After a few minutes of this, Chase leans over to grab the water bottle. He flips the straw portion up and holds it to my mouth. “Drink, Ah-May. You really don’t want to be dehydrated right now.”

“Don’t care,” I mutter, but I drink anyway. I don’t think anything has ever tasted as good as that water, even though I know it’s nothing special. It doesn’t have to be. It’s life-sustaining, refreshing, cold.

It’s everything I need to soothe a part of me that I don’t even understand.

Chase keeps petting my hair as I drink, and I don’t have the energy to bat his hand away.

---