Page 29 of The Preachers' Promise
“I can walk,” I hiss, trying to pull away, but he’s far too strong, and he gives me a shake.
“Just do as you’re told.”
He takes me to a hatch in the wall where several patients are also lined up. A woman in white scrubs sits behind a plexiglass window with a gap at the bottom. She has a thin, pinched face, and doesn’t offer anyone a smile as she counts out pills and places them into tiny paper cups. I watch as the person at the head of the line takes the paper cup from her.
“You know what to do,” the woman says.
The patient knocks back the pills and then opens their mouth and wiggles their tongue from side to side, demonstrating that it’s empty.
“Good.” She looks farther down the line. “Next.”
Each patient swallowing their meds takes me one step closer. My mind races, trying to figure out a way I can get out of this, but I can’t see how. I bet almost every patient who has come before me has thought the same.
Finally, it’s my turn.
“Name?” the woman barks.
“Ophelia Sinclair.”
She checks a chart, then decants the pills into a cup and hands them to me. I glance around. Don’t I even get any water?
“I need water to swallow these.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes. “Just get on with it.”
My mouth is already dry from stress and lack of any fluids yet that morning. I’m genuinely worried I’ll end up choking. I imagine the pills lodged in the back of my throat, coating it with their acrid taste as they slowly dissolve.
My vision blurs with tears, but I don’t want to cry. “Please.”
“Fine.” Her gaze shoots to Carter. “Get her some water.”
He huffs out a breath of irritation but leaves my side. I’m aware of the other patients behind me and their annoyance at the holdup. I just want to vanish.
Carter returns with a larger paper cup, this one containing water. “Here you go, Princess. But don’t think you’re going to get special treatment all the time. You’ll be asking me to give you a back rub next.”
Not likely.
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. There’s an oily hunger in his gaze that reminds me of the way some of the older men at the commune would look at the younger women as they came of age.
Not wanting to be a total wuss, I hold his stare as I tip the pills into my mouth and swallow some water. I still almost gag on them. I hate taking tablets, and there were four in my little cup. I don’t even know what they were, but I manage to swallow them.
“Open wide.” Carter smirks at me.
I do as he says and stick out my tongue, but he takes hold of my jaw with one hand, and sticks a thick, ungloved finger into my mouth, just like he did the night before. I retch around it, the shock of the intrusion, and the salty taste, making me gag.
Slowly, he runs his finger around my mouth, taking his sweet time.
“Good girl,” he says finally with another irritating smirk.
I hate him, I decide. I wonder how long I will have until the pills knock me out.
I take a seat at the long table, unsure what to do next. Carter approaches me again, and I die a little inside.What now?
“You need to go and fetch the food yourself. We don't serve you here.” He rolls his eyes. “God save us from princesses.”
Standing once more, I walk to the serving hatch, where a few people are waiting in line. I reach the small hole in the wall and peer inside.
“What is there for breakfast?” I smile at the girl behind the serving hatch. I know it's probably just the porridge, because I've not seen anybody with any other food, but it doesn't hurt to ask.
