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“How are you? I’m sorry, I was thinking.”
About what? A score of possibilities reared their heads.
The darkness I’d glimpsed in his expression daunted me. The man had demons. With his past, I expected that. Asking what he’d been thinking might give me more than I wanted right then.
I shrugged then winced. Tiredness dulled my reply. My jaw ached when I opened my mouth. “I’m sore.”
“Mmm.” His gaze travelled over me. I could see him stopping at each wound, a frown would touch his brow then he’d move on. “I wish we could do more than wash these down.”
“There are bandages and some sort of antiseptic.” I pointed at the plate bearing Gregor’s gifts. “They brought it yesterday.”
“They left it before they took you to the Room?”
I nodded, remembering how it had bothered me.
“Fok them. Fok them all to hell and back, but I can use it. Come to the middle so I can play doctors and nurses.” He flashed me a smile then waited, maybe to see if I had it in me to smile back.
Wrapped up in misery but grateful, I walked to the middle and pretended to be tough when he dabbed iodine on the cuts.
“Doesn’t look like you need stitches. These will hurt for days, you poor baby.”
Baby? How weird being called that and by this man who’d made some of these holes in me. Then he came in close. I dropped into flight or fight mode and stiffened.
He whispered into my ear, “I’m getting us out. You need hope. Here it is. I’ve figured a way.”
So soft. Had I imagined those words?
I stared at the wall like a robot then cautiously turned my head. He gave the slightest nod.
Last time I’d had hope it’d been the boy guard and look what had happened there.
A nightmare I’d never forget, while that boy would be silent forever, wherever they’d buried him. If they had. He could be lying out there somewhere in the jungle.
I blinked.
Pieter wasn’t a man for casual promises. Like Gregor, he reserved words for when he meant them.
The next burn of the iodine seemed to add fire to my mind. Getting out. If only.
My vengeful daydream surfaced.
Run to the police. Fuck them over. God, I prayed they’d all die horribly. Then dig to find out who organized this shithole torture palace. Someone could rip this enterprise open to the world with the right article. I could do it. I fucking could.
Please let it happen.
The pain from a dab zapped me back to earth. “Owie.” I ducked away, tried to shift my feet, only to be brought up short by his hand wrapped around my knee.
“Stay, girl.”
“I never thought I’d see you kneeling for me.”
Pieter grunted.
I might be a prisoner still, but I had hope now, because of him.
He rose from where he’d been painting my thigh. Back in my real life, I’d have been horrified at a man doing this while I was naked.
“Better?” His question was loaded with extra significance.
