Page 34 of Tangled in Knots

The alternative is falling though. The stitches came out last night, or at least I think it was night. It’s so hard to keep track of time when I sleep for so much of it.

“What’s going on?” I rasp, my voice heavy with sleep.

Morris gives me a sweet smile, leaning down to pick me up.

“It’s early, I wanted to get you up and moving a little. It’s pretty outside,” he says as I drop my head sleepily on his chest.

“It’s cold out there,” I mumble. “Do we have to?”

“We do. Bathroom?” he asks as he begins to walk in that direction.

It’s quiet with no one around. I don’t think I’ve seen the brothers in a few days. I’m pretty sure it’s been at least that long, but again time is moving funny for me.

“I think I may be able to walk it,” I say carefully. I don’t enjoy being carted around. I’m not a princess. My father treated me like one, and look where it got me.

Naive, too innocent, in a position where I have to trust people who shot me. My memory before the gunshot is clear, it’s everything after that feels hazy. I don’t want to be a rag doll anymore.

“Are you sure?” the beta asks. The way he says it is as if he’s humoring me.

I don’t like it.

“Yeah, I am,” I say stubbornly. I’ll force the strength into my legs, but I’m going to pee alone, damnit.

“You’re the boss,” he says easily.

A sliver of fear fills me, the instincts that tell me when someone is lying to me, coming back online like a freight train.

As Morris puts me down, it’s away from the wall, and my knees threaten to buckle. I curse at him in my mind, leaning forward with a gasp. Laying on the couch for so long has made me weak. The skin around where I was shot is still healing, and I can feel the slight pull, which makes me nauseous with the fear that I’m hurting myself.

“Need help?” he asks, a little amusement in his tone.

“No, thank you,” I say, steeling my spine and stepping forward. Three steps and I’ll close the door. If I have to crawl to the toilet from there, then no one will know but me.

Curling my fingers around the wooden door frame, I use it to hold myself up as I flick on the light switch. Morris folds his welltoned arms over his chest and I ignore him as I keep my back to him. I’m wearing someone’s long-sleeved shirt, and I can smell leather.

Jed. Wonderful. A part of me wants to lose the shirt, but being naked feels like the greater evil. Walking the rest of the way inside of the bathroom, I close the door on Morris’ next words.

“Ten minutes and then I’m coming in after you,” he says, looking uncertain as he begins to lose sight of me.

“Yes, Warden,” I mutter under my breath. I'm being held captive. There’s no sugar-coating it.

My life isn’t mine anymore.

I use the toilet and wash my hands in exactly six minutes, using the remaining time to splash cold water on my face, in an attempt to push the last dregs of sleepiness away. I want to be awake and aware of anything that happens next.

I feel apprehensive. Morris doesn’t typically wake me up early, because there’s nowhere to go. What’s so different about today?

Drying my face, I feel better by the time Morris turns the knob and pushes the door open. What does it say about me that I didn’t even bother to lock it?

“You good?” he asks, his eyes running down my body as if to search for injuries.

I want to yell and rail at him. Ask him why it matters outside of how much I’ll sell for. The longer I’m awake, the more I’m reminded of how angry I am with this pack.

“Mmhmm,” I murmur instead, turning to face him. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s take a walk outside, then,” he says.

I refuse to mention the lack of clothing I’m wearing, specifically shoes, and simply nod instead. Morris states platitudes, but doesn’t give me answers. The cobwebs arebrushing free. My mind is turning and whirling as I process things, still confused by what he’s doing.

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