Page 6 of Watch Me Turn
I gesture to the digital timer above his head. The red numbers glow and tick down ominously:232:41:55... 54... 53...
"For that long," I say.
"What the hell is that?" he asks, though from his tone I think he already knows.
"That's how long until that door opens again," I say, nodding to the fortified door behind me. "You’d better start enjoying my company, because you're about to get a whole lot more of it."
He stares daggers, trying to intimidate me, but I ignore him and read in silence for a bit, vaguely aware of him tossing and turning against the restraints. Oscillating between trying to get more comfortable and escape. After a few halfhearted attempts, he gives up and lies back down again.
"What if I need something?" he grumbles.
I smile. "If you need something, then all you gotta do is ask."
"Okay, then I need something."
I put my book down. "What do you need?" I ask, propping myself up to look at him.
He scowls at me in return, awkwardly pawing at his cuffed ankles and rubbing his feet. "I need the bathroom," he says, his voice tight with embarrassment.
"Oh."
I hadn't really considered this part, but it makes sense since he's only on day two. From what I've read, soon enough his normal bodily functions will cease to be as his organs gradually shut down. One by one. It'll be painful at first, and then the venom will kick in. Healing him from the inside and forming the new parts of him. Old human processes, emotions, and habits will go, leaving something darker and far more immortal in its wake.
For now though, I guess he still has to pee.
"Erm, right, okay," I mumble.
My eyes dart around, hunting desperately for a bathroom. I land on a closed door beyond the kitchenette and pray that it houses a toilet. If it doesn't, then I guess we'll have to improvise.
"Which number is it?" I ask as I pull the chain over my head and place the key in his wrist restraints and release the lock with a satisfying click.
"What the..." He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and his voice drops a few decibels. "One."
He rubs his wrists, but when I go to undo the restraints on his ankles, I freeze with the key an inch from the lock.
"Look, I'm not going to?—"
"Run? Attack me? Try to escape?" I interrupt. "Yeah, you probably would. All of the above, actually."
He grits his teeth. "I give you my word."
I laugh. "It's not me I'm worried about. I just want to make sure you're not going to do anything stupid and hurt yourself."
"I won't. Look at me. I can barely hold my head up."
"Fine," I say, reaching for the key around my neck. "But we do this my way."
I unlock the restraints around his wrists, but when he tries to sit up fully, his legs shake. The transformation is weakening him more than he wants to admit.
"Easy there, tough guy," I say, offering him my arm for support.
He hesitates, pride clashing with necessity, then reluctantly accepts my help. His skin is burning hot against my icy cold, and I can feel the tremor in his muscles as we make our way to the bathroom.
"I can take it from here," he says when we reach the door.
"You won't get any argument from me," I say, raising my hands like a barrier.
When he opens the door, I am relieved to see a bathroom hidden inside, a nice one too. Black, shiny, floor-to-ceiling subway tiles line the walls, and gold fixtures adorn the black marble facilities. There's a rainfall shower in the corner of the room big enough for two, a huge freestanding bathtub in the center, and a pristine porcelain toilet tucked away at the side. No one has ever used this place. It's so new that I can smell the adhesive in the grouting.
