Page 61 of Jackson

His eyes widen, and his head jerks back. “No shit. You’re the one who took out that entire club.”

I weakly raise a hand. “Guilty. I didn’t do it alone, though. And if asked, I’d do it all over again to be free of him.”

He murmurs something to himself that sounds a whole lot like, “I wish.”

Could I get this man on my side?

“We could help each other ...”

My words cause his back to straighten, and he shakes his head, as if snapping himself out of something. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. Eat your food.”

“Please, if you’ll just ...”

He turns and moves toward the door.

“Please. I’m begging you.”

He doesn’t stop; he opens the door and gets the hell out of here.

What he doesn’t realize, in his rush, is that he forgot to inject me with the drugs.

Which means I’m going to get some of my strength back.

22 – Serenity

He doesn’t come back.

Not for an entire day.

Which works in my favor because the drugs mostly wear off, and I’m finally able to stand. The first thing I do is rewrap my foot. It looks like it’s growing infected, and the redness around my stubbed toe is terrifying, but I can’t think about that now. I can only keep it covered and pray I get out of here before I lose more than just my toe.

I manage to move my body slowly around the room, looking at every inch of it, finding anything I can to use if needed. That doesn’t amount to much, except for an old rusty pipe that I have to tug off the wall, and a few screws. Still, a good stab from this pipe would cause some damage, right? I mean, that is if it doesn’t break before it penetrates the skin, it’s that frail.

It's better than nothing.

I plan my next move, keeping my last bit of water for when I absolutely need it. I should probably use it to wash my toe, but I don’t want to risk dying because I run out, so for now, I’ll let it be. Moving only brings the pain on; as my blood begins to flow properly again, my toe throbs. Take away the drugs, and my body is slowly but surely feeling everything again.

My face hurts, my body is stiff, and the pounding radiating through my foot is nearly enough for me to beg for the blissful nothingness those drugs bring.

After pacing until I’m exhausted, I lie back down and place my hands under my cheeks, closing my eyes. It’s hard to sleep now that I’m in so much pain, but my body is also so depletedof everything good that it has nothing left, and, slowly, my eyes flutter closed, and I fall into a fitful sleep.

I’m woken when the door opens.

I open my eyes, jerking awake, and then I rub them frantically, trying to focus as I pray that it isn’t Hound.

It’s not.

It’s him again.

I don’t even know his name.

He has another bottle of water and a sandwich, as well as that needle full of whatever it is they have been injecting me with.

I almost beg him for it.

Almost.

“I know he’s a monster.”

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