Page 66 of Retribution
I begin to nod and say that I’m fine, but then I stop.
‘No,’ I say very quietly, telling the truth to this one person. ‘I’m not okay. That nurse is a sadistic and cruel woman. Joe Banderville is a psychotic megalomaniac. They’re hurting me. Trying to break me.’
Samantha’s eyes widen. ‘Can I do anything?’
‘If you can, I’ll let you know,’ I say.
8:56
She nods. ‘I have to get back. Hide it in the spot you and Stephens picked.’
Samatha leaves and I message the guys some half-truths quickly about why I’ve been MIA.
Sorry. Phone was dead. Stephens in hospital. Have a cold so couldn’t go to class. See you in a couple of days if I feel better. Night xx
I turn it off and stash it behind the books before glancing at the clock for a final time.
8:59
I walk quickly from the room, and up the stairs. I feel as if someone’s watching me, but I can’t see anyone. I get to my room and go inside.
She’s waiting for me.
‘Lights out, Marguerite.’
Like I can’t tell the time.
‘Can I have my laptop back, please?’ I ask.
‘I’m not done with it,’ shesniffs.
‘I have class in a couple of days. I have a paper to write for it.’
Nasty Nurse doesn’t answer, but her gaze doesn’t waver as I take off my clothes and put on a white nightdress that looks like it belongs in 1901. I try to ignore how she watches me because I know it’s to mess with me.
‘A gift from Joe?’ I query, as I trace my fingers down the coarse woolen fabric.
She nods. ‘Perfect for you, isn’t it?’
‘Perfect,’ I echo, as my skin begins to itch.
She watches me pee and brush my teeth in the bathroom with the door wide open, and then she yawns.
‘I was told you went into the kitchen without asking. You know your fiancé wants you on a diet for the wedding. You can’t stuff your face all the time, you pig.’ She shakes her head at me. ‘But I’ll be nice and not correct you this time. You’ve earned a day in your room tomorrow with no food though.’
I open my mouth to ask her why that’s suddenly a rule, and how I was meant to know about it, but then I see the remote to the Stinger in her hand. Her fingers move over it, and she flips it in her palm. She could so easily press the button, even by mistake. She’s playing with it, playing with me. This is just a game to her.
‘Thank you, Nurse Smith,’ I say instead, and she laughs.
‘Now, isn’t this so much easier than constantly being at odds with each other?’ she asks, giving my cheek a hard pat that makes me flinch. ‘Joe wants your hair shorter. I suggested a pixie cut. I’ll be doing it tomorrow.’
She leaves my room, closing and locking the door.
A pixie cut?
There’s no fucking way that is happening.
I get into bed and close my eyes, but after a few minutes, sleep doesn’t come, so I turn on the bedside lamp and take my mom’s diary out, flippingto the next entry.
