Page 18 of Pushed

Had I slept for five hours or had I been awake the whole time? There was no way for me to know. The same nightmare that played in my dreams was there when my eyes were open. Nothing had changed, except the person living it.

My muscles were tired, my bones were aching and heavy. I didn't feel hungry or thirsty or even have the urge to go to the bathroom. It was like my entire body had gone into hibernation and would only wake up when spring flowers and bumblebees bloomed and buzzed around me.

Machi leaned over my shoulder, his face inches from mine, sending his creamy musk rolling down over my cheek and into my nose. I stopped breathing, refusing to allow one ounce of him to fester inside me.

“This little thing you're doing, you're rebellion or defiance or whatever the fuck you want to call it—it's not going to last. One way or another, that blindfold will come off, either by you or by me.” Kissing my cheek, the mattress rocked as he stood up. “Now eat.”

Rolling my shoulders, I covered my ears with my arms. It was a measure of control, a brief protest against his orders. Covering my ears showed him that it didn't matter what he said or what he wanted.

I might not have control over where I was, but I had control over my own body. If he wasn't ready to kill me, if he couldn't decide when or how he would do it. . .

Then I controlled my death too.

I wanted to strip him of what he thought he owned. Because unless he was going to force feed me or stick a needle in my arm to purge my veins with fluids. . .

I was in charge of what I did or didn't do.

Thick fingers wrapped my arms, yanking them away from my ears. His lips hovered over the shell of my ear, breathing heavy and hard. “You can fight me all you want, you can starve yourself if you think that's better than this. But if you ever want to see the sun rise again or the fucking moon when it's full, I suggest you smarten up and stop fucking around.”

Gritting my teeth, I snarled up at him.

“Come on, let me hear it, call me a dickhead, call me a fucking prick, I don't really give a shit. But I will tell you one thing, I didn't bring you here for you to die.” Releasing his grip, he stepped back, grunting like a mad dog. “So if that's what you want, a slow agonizing death, it's on you.”

Tears began to roll freely, slipping off my lids and seeping into the cloth. I didn't want that, I didn't want any of this. There was a level of control I wanted to keep, but death, was I really ready for that?

“How can you put my death on me when you're the one who did this?”

“Good, that got your attention.” Taking a step in, his shadow thickened the blackness surrounding me. “I'm not going to apologize for taking you, I'm not going to apologize for you refusing to eat or drink. I haven't killed you.”

“But that's the plan isn't it? Kill me when the time is right?”

“The time was right the second I had you in my hands. If it didn't come then, then what makes you think it's ever coming at all?”

Sniffling, I wiped away the tears that had escaped from under the blindfold. “I don't want to die.”

“Then don't.” Placing the plate by my head, Machi whispered. “But I can't save you if you don't try to save yourself.”

His words cut through me, boring a hole into my chest and climbing inside.

Save me? Why would he save me?

“Why would you say that?” I asked, resting a hand on the plate and sitting up. “Why would you taunt me with idea that you're going to save me? That's not fair, it's wrong to dangle something like that in front of my face when you have no plans on ever letting me go!”

Laughing, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch startled me, it made me jerk nervously, sending a tremble through my muscles.

“I haven't told you my plans yet. So how do you know what's fair or not?”

Squeezing the rim of the plate, I blindly touched the food. “I hate you.”

Placing his finger on my bottom lip, he dragged it down hard, letting my lip bounce back into place. “You keep speaking those sweet words to me, little girl.”

His heels clicked against the wood like the tip of a knife against bone. The door opened and shut, locks secured, and he was gone.

Curling my lip, I screamed, “Fuck you!” Throwing the plate, it shattered into pieces, falling to the ground with sharp pings.

This place was going to kill me. This world was going to molest my fears until I broke and there was nothing left.

I had to get out.

I had to fight.

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