Page 10 of Demon Rejected

He smiled, holding his hands in sight all time. “Yes, but I kept my eyes closed the entire time. I am not your enemy. They are." He pointed towards my wrists. “The clinic uses people like us and turns them into brainwashed weapons." He kept going when he noticed I didn't say a word.

“What do you mean by people like us?"

“You’re a wolf shifter, like me, right?"

“No, I mean. What? You’re a what? A wolf? That’s not possible. I only have issues with fire."

“I know that. It’s the way your wolf is manifesting. Mine does other tricks. Hey, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours."

He smiled again. This time his grin was sexy and damn wicked. I felt too weak to say anything and sunk back into the pillow. Even the bedding was plaid flannel, but it smelled nice, like fresh soap and sunshine.

“You kidnapped me. Why should I trust you at all?"

“That’s the right attitude. Have some breakfast and find me outside. We have work to do.”

The man stood up and left.

The warm steaming coffee mug was sitting on the nightstand on a small tray. Next to it was a plate that made my mouth water. Scrambled eggs, toast, jam, butter, and bacon fried crispy. I had no idea how hungry I was until my brain sent the message that there was available food next to me.

Standing up fast, I wanted to reach for the tray, but my entire body shook severely and I fell back on the bed. Nice, at least he was already outside and couldn’t see me making a fool of myself. My hands shook so bad, I had to steady the cup with both hands to bring it up to my lips. There is no feeling in the world that compares with the first sip of hot coffee in the morning. I’m an addict, a coffee junkie. A librarian I befriended in high school got me hooked. After the delightful Columbian woke up my sleeping cells, my stomach was still grumbling.

Invigorated, I was tempted to keep going. Why was my captor so nice? He made a great breakfast and kept the place here clean.

The next was the bread that I dunked in jam. I swallowed the bites of bread with jam so fast I barely had a chance to taste it. Only after I inhaled the first slice of bread with jam, I recognized the taste of sweet juicy strawberries.

Coffee first, thinking later.

As I looked around, I saw the cabin was made of logs, the rustic decor present. It was clean, and it didn’t look like a place that belonged to a single guy. A vase was on the side table, filled with beautiful wild flowers in all shades of blue and yellow.

My hands shook so hard even after I eat that slice of toast with jam. To ensure that the scrambled eggs landed in my mouth and not all over the bed, I took the plate, placed it on my chest, and started to load the food into my mouth. The more I ate, the more alive I felt. My stomach rumbled and hurt. Thick blue bruises spread over my wrists. Needle marks that hurt littered my lower arm. I took another sip of coffee. It was warm and tasted like this house, warm and sweet.

Where did he sleep? Who was this guy who seemed to know more about me than I did?

After spending so long time tied up and pumped with drugs, having breakfast in bed while the sun sneaked in through the window felt like heaven. The house smelled nice, like forest and coffee.

I emptied the plate in a few minutes. I felt like a termite. After eating the last slice of bread with jam, I grabbed the banana that lay on the tray and ate it, too.

My bladder let me know I needed to go, badly.

Mystery Man, which my addled brain decided to call Mountain Man, was gone. I could hear the sound of splitting wood from outside. It was time to try to stand. I pushed the thick, warm blanket to the side. My legs looked very much like my arms. What did those people do to me? Everything started so well, just to teach me one thing again and again. You can never let your guard down. You can never allow yourself to trust anyone, not even for a second.

Just as I sensed the fear rise back inside me, feeling like a caged animal, I wanted to run. It was an illogical need that had me on my feet and made me want to run somewhere else and hide away from the world.

The plate landed on the floor with a thud. The wooden floor was covered with a thick, old, colorful, and very used-looking rug. Sadly, my legs betrayed me. As I tried to stand, they felt shaky, and I landed back on my ass. The bed stopped my fall. The world spun fast, and my body hurt in a way I never experienced before. A growl of frustration left my lips. In all my almost eighteen years, I was sick and all my wounds healed fast. Was I eighteen already? Did I do the Sleeping Beauty thing and missed my birthday?

What I did next was so not dignified at all. I pulled the chair Mountain Man sat on before close to me and grabbed its back with both hands, the way an old lady would. “Great job, Scar,” I muttered to myself. The chair would stop me from falling and crashing down on the floor. Breathe in, breathe out or shit like that. Damn!

Leaning against the back of the chair, I stood up slowly, pushing one leg down, allowing it to get familiar with my weight and then the next. Just as I stood up, I felt faint again and leaned over the chair. It took me more than five minutes to stand upright and stop the room from spinning. Sure, I could call Mountain Man and ask for help, but how could I escape this place if I can’t even walk straight? My first issue was that fuck, I hadn’t the slightest idea where I was, except that I was in a cabin, and the cabin is somewhere in the forest. Slapping me mentally for not joining Girl Scouts, I kept trying to find clues about where the fuck I was.

Breathe, slowly.

Two doors opened on the left side of the cabin. One of them should be the bathroom. After considering walking with the chair like a walker in front of me, I reconsidered and stood on my own. Letting go was harder than I imagined. One step after the other, I shuffled to the first door. I turned the knob, pulled the door, and sweat broke on my back and forehead.

“A closet, awesome. Let’s see what’s behind door number two.”

The second door rewarded my expectations. I found a tiny bathroom with a shower in a corner, neat cleaning supplies lined up under the sink, and a toilet in the corner. If I ever took going to the toilet for granted, I regretted that now.

Planting my behind on the toilet was not only difficult because my body felt broken. It hurt like hell and had me shaking. A shower sounded tempting, but I wouldn’t risk it. All I need is to pee, find some boots, and run away from here. Running is a relative concept, more like stumbling and crashing, and hopefully I’ll land somewhere. The last time I relaxed, I was unwillingly turned into a guinea pig. No more.

---