Page 11 of Locked in Wonderland

“I look like a prostitute.”

“You look hot.”

I took a step back, two additional sources of confusion making themselves known. My chest was sore. I would have been more alarmed about that if it wasn’t for the fact that my arse was sore too. Icy dread settled at the base of my very naked spine.

“What did you do to me?” I directed the question at Percy. While I wouldn’t trust Lola as far as I could throw her, I assumed she lacked the equipment that my paranoid brain was currently concerned about.

“Well, let’s see.” Percy ticked things off on his fingers. “Haircut, shave, contacts, douche, shower, clothes.”

My brain skipped the rest of the words to seize on the most alarming one. “Douche?”

He frowned. “Well, yes. We had to get you clean everywhere.”

“Everywhere,” Lola echoed.

“You drugged me and then shoved something up my arse!”

Lola tutted. “Don’t be like that. If you hadn’t been so resistant, we wouldn’t have needed to drug you. You only have yourself to blame. Percy and I are busy people. We don’t have time for arguments.”

Percy still had his fingers raised. “Tattoo,” he added.

The soreness on my chest. I strode back to the mirror and pulled the leather aside. Before I arrived here, the space below my left clavicle had been bare, like the rest of my skin. Just how I liked it.

Now it bore the image of a black bird on a branch, its wings extended. When I licked my fingers and scrubbed at it, the ink didn’t shift. Anger sparked hot and immediate. “You can’t tattoo a person without their consent.”

“It’s part of processing,” Lola said. “No one can leave here without a tattoo.”

“What the fuck is it?” I asked. “Is it a crow?”

Lola’s expression turned disapproving. “No need to swear.”

“Really? I think there’s every fucking need.”

“It’s a—” Percy started.

Lola elbowed him sharply in the ribs and gave a warning shake of her head when he looked accusingly at her.

“Right,” he muttered.

I looked between them. “It’s a what?”

“It’s a bird,” Lola said with a phony smile. She reached into a pocket and held something out to me. “Don’t forget your watch.”

My initial instinct was to tell her where to stick it. Warren had given it to me, though. The first and the last thing, so it meant something to me. There was no point in cutting off my nose to spite my face. I snatched it from her, hoping the severity of the gesture adequately conveyed my feelings for the strange pair and what they’d done to me.

For a moment, I imagined paying another visit to the police station with tales of being drugged, douched, and tattooed against my will. And then I imagined Police Constable Thornton reacting to that story the same way he had the last one, with nothing but a sceptical hmm.

I forced myself to breathe, to think more rationally. While the thought of Percy doing anything to my unconscious body made my skin crawl, it was only douching. And the days when tattoos were permanent were long gone. Once I got off this island, I could get laser treatment. Warren could hold my hand while I had it done. All of this was for him, and it would be worth it once I tracked him down.

“What about my phone?” I asked, my words clipped.

“No phones in Wonderland,” Percy said cheerfully. “That’s rule number thirteen.”

“No, it’s fifteen,” Lola corrected. “Thirteen is that you can look at the artwork in the gallery, but you can’t touch it. Even if it asks nicely.”

“So… what?” I asked. “I come back to you when I’m leaving to get it?”

They exchanged a look. “Yes,” Percy said, nodding emphatically. “That’s exactly what you do.”