Page 26 of Lost Petal

Chapter 15

Petal

On my knees, head down, with my hands on my thighs, palms up.

That’s what he said, right?

There’s not much time to ponder these questions between the first sound of the lock and the moment someone steps through the door. Only seconds for me to decide what position I should take to welcome him. I’m uncertain, even though he has told me twice, reminding me once again before he left the last time I saw him.

When was that? Hours ago? A day ago? It’s hard to tell. I fell asleep in between, unable to keep myself awake any longer and curling up on the bench as comfortably as possible. There was a point where the light was dimmed down in my cell, either meaning that it was indeed nighttime or that he wanted me to be more comfortable as I showed signs of exhaustion. My entire body was yearning for rest, suggesting I’ve either been up for almost an entire day or I’m still feeling the aftereffect of whatever drug I’ve been given to make me pass out when I was brought here.

My gaze is lowered to the floor, so I don’t realize who is coming into the room until I see the person’s hands appear right in front of me. It’s not him, but the girl with the black curls, once again bringing a tray with her that she places on the cement floor right in front of me. I only realize it’s her in that very moment, tilting my head up just in time to catch a glimpse of her face before she turns away from me. Again, she doesn’t say a word, nor does she look at me or linger in the room for even a moment.

She’s out the door before I find it within myself to say something that could draw her attention back to me. I curse myself for that.

Talk, goddammit. You must at least try!

I promise myself to be prepared next time. To lay out the words beforehand, if I must. I won’t tolerate being treated like this any longer. Despite the sad look on her face and her apparent discomfort, I’m beginning to grow angry at the girl as well. We’re alone every time she visits my room. There are so many ways for her to communicate with me without him knowing.

What is she so afraid of? What has he done to her that makes her act like a frightened sheep around me?

I empty half the bottle of water in one swig before I start nibbling on the buttered slices of toast she brought me, tearing off small pieces to make the meal last longer. If nothing else, it’s something to do, something to occupy my underactive mind.

Boredom and loneliness are poison for the mind. It would drive any person mad. And I don’t even have memories to live in, anything to divert my attention away from this dark, gray cell that holds nothing but desperation for me. Every time I try to access the deepest corners of my mind, I become dizzy and nauseous, as if I were injected with sickening venom every time I came too close, stopping me from getting a hold of the things that have been taken from me.

The only thing I have in excess is time. Alone. So much time that’s spent all by myself, thinking, contemplating, walking up and down along the walls, because I don’t want to believe that there really is no way out for me. I keep searching for a secret, a loophole, a crack in the wall. Anything that would give me a tiny bit of hope to latch on to.

But of course, that never happened. I move in circles, turning my attention to external features in search for a way out, until I regain understanding of my hopeless situation. Then my focus is redirected, observing internal reactions and thoughts, while I reacquaint myself with the body that felt so foreign when I first woke up. It’s all I have right now, the only clue to answer my many questions.

I keep hugging myself, stroking along my own skin, feeling out every inch of it, providing comfort to myself while I learn this body that I’ve lived in without remembering. I’ve searched for wounds and scars, wondering whether I put up a fight when I was taken. But nothing on the visibly accessible areas of my body would suggest such a thing. There’s also no pain except for the area on my behind where he spanked me not too long ago.

My face remains a mystery to me. I’ve been caressing every inch of it multiple times, letting the tips of my fingers follow the outlines of my jaw, my lips, my nose, my cheekbones, my eyebrows, my forehead. Yet I probably wouldn’t recognize myself if someone were to give me a mirror.

Or would I?

Would seeing myself do the trick?

My heart skips when I hear the lock again, and I hurry to take position, quickly swallowing the very last piece of toast before the door is opened.

It’s him this time. I know right away.

His steps are heavier, calmer, more confident and assured. He steps inside, closing the door behind him and pausing for a moment before he takes two more steps to approach me. My eyes fall on his shining black dress shoes, and I tense up when he bends down to pick up the tray that’s separating us. I don’t move an inch while he puts it aside, waiting seemingly calmly while my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest.

“Look at me.”

His voice is firm, allowing no backtalk as he awaits my obedience.

And I comply. I tilt my head back, meeting his dark gaze far above me. He’s wearing all black again, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black suit pants, black shoes. His hair is immaculate as always, gelled to the side, with not a single strand of his short cut out of place. He’s smiling, but it’s not a friendly smile. An ominous threat is lacing his expression, warning me not to feel too secure.

“Are you ready to get out of here, Petal?” he asks. “Are you ready to do what I ask of you?”

I press my lips together, suppressing the urge to rebel, to tell him to fuck off and just let me go without humiliating me like this.

But I know better now. I know it won’t get me anywhere. It will end in punishment. A punishment that might be worse than any other I’ve received so far. I don’t even fear being beaten by him; I don’t fear the pain he could evoke. No, what I fear the most is being left alone again.

What I fear most is the torment of idle loneliness.

And I’m sure he knows that. If I tell him to fuck off, that’s exactly what he’d do. He’d leave the room and subject me to an even longer period of dark seclusion, watching as I slowly lose what remains of my sanity.

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