Looking at the white bandages covering my hand, I let out yet another long sigh. It seems that that's all I'm doing these days. Frustrated.
I pushed back the flickers of ruby red hair away from my face as I entered her room. An all too familiar sight somberly greeted me. There she is, Keira Isabel Sinclair Cortés. Such a mouthful, but I love her full name, after all, that's the only way that Keira has responded to commands these past three days. It took an entire day to figure out how to get her to react to anything. It's been four days since the fight and all she's done is sit in bed staring at the wall, unmoving.
No amount of threats, coercion, punishment, or pain has made her budge. Not that I took part in that anyway. I was vehemently opposed to mistreating her any longer.
Mistress, betrayal still lingering in her mind, didn't like that, so I got punished for it.
I was assigned to Subject waste clean up duty. Double shifts. It's nothing I can't handle. Nobody ever wants to do this task since it consists of cleaning up every single type of bodily fluids and waste that accumulates in the cells that have nothing but a 4-inch diameter drainage tube in the middle. The smell is overwhelming to say the least. Cleaning happens when the prisoners are taken out to be pressure washed for lack of a better term. The pressure from the water is not enough to break open the skin, but it is still strong enough to cause serious pain.
At least Keira hasn't been stuck down there. No, those poor unfortunate souls undergo the worst forms of torture.
To no one's surprise, Cleary is the one who directly oversees that division. She personally asked for it and has made it her twisted playground. She still reports to Mistress even though Mistress wanted to shut it down, but was superseded by the government. The results were just too good to ignore.
Sitting down on the bed, next to Keira, I wheeled the table in front of her. It's lunchtime.
Her eyes are lifeless and dull, staring at a point that is neither here nor there. Her hands won't stop shaking. That's the only part of her that shows any type of outward movement, but I don't want to see it, so I clasp my hands over hers in the hopes of getting her to stop. It's as if she can't cease staring at her hands since she killed that other girl in the fight.
Everyone always says that your first kill always lingers in one's memories. I wouldn't know anything about that. For all of the bad that I've done here, I've managed to avoid killing anyone. That's probably what's got Keira in the state that she is in now. She wasn't mentally stable to begin with either. Who would be in her situation?
I miss her spirit and spit-fire attitude she had in the beginning. She tried to obey at some point, but kept defaulting back to stubbornness. That's exactly the reason that the challenge of breaking her into submission was so tantalizing for many here, especially Mistress.
I don't want that anymore, I haven't since Keira was branded and then asked me how I've managed to keep my humanity in this place. That thought kept bouncing around, making me uneasy and taking away my sleep at times. She was right though, I had indeed lost my humanity working here. At what point did I settle for complacency and power?
I don't care for that any longer. All I want to do now is get Keira out of here by any means necessary. The only problem is that it's going to take time. Time, I fear, that she's running out of.
I can't protect her 24/7, Mistress certainly won't let me, but at least I can work from the sidelines, gathering the necessary supplies and intel for when the moment comes to leave.
As infuriating as Mia is, she had a point, Keira does have me wrapped around her fingers. Keira doesn't know it, but she occupies my thoughts every waking moment.
Out of respect and promise to Keira I don't dare try anything on her. I crave to, but I won't, not if she doesn't make the first move. I've already hurt her enough and I hate myself for it.
Being here close to her, holding her hands is making my heart race. The amount of self-control I'm exerting to not smash our lips together in the hopes of snapping her out of her current state is oppressive.
What a childish thought.
It's not like she's a princess in a fairy tale who's going to "wake up" with a kiss.
While I keep one hand over both of Keira's, my other hand goes to caress her head and back. All I can keep repeating to her is that everything is going to be okay. That this wasn't her fault.
How "okay" is she going to be? I can't say. Probably not at all, but I still want to say something positive to her. As for killing that girl being her fault, it's not. Keira was forced into an impossible situation.
What I don't understand is that when Keira turned the knife on herself, she suddenly stopped, screaming in pain. The way she moved afterwards seemed as if she was struggling to control her actions.
What truly terrified me is that the first thrust to the girl's stomach was a fatal one. The location of the stab and length of the knife inside the girl was a dead give away for a professional trained in combat, but Keira never was. It wasn't a lucky blow either, it was calculated.
The way Keira carried herself, I've never seen her react in such a manner. I've watched her during training, and there's no way that she picked up those moves in such a short time.
After the first stab, Keira didn't stop. She kept plunging the knife inside the girl over and over until she was shot with the tranquilizer dart. Why did she not stop? The other girl was clearly dead!
Another long sigh.
Something isn't right. That entire fight just felt… off. I just can't quite put my finger on it.
Oh, Keira. How much I wish to take you away from here and live somewhere in a cabin or a deserted island with no one to chase after us. Maybe then you'd find peace.
"Keira Isabel Sinclair Cortés," her eyes show a fleeting sign of life, acknowledging my presence, "it's time for your lunch." She doesn't respond, never does anymore.
I uncovered the lunch tray. It's mashed sweet potatoes, stewed beef steak, and applesauce; soft foods since she doesn't chew much either. At least it's a step up from the soup-only diet she had the first few days.
I prefer to be the one to feed her. At least then I know that she actually ate something and it's not forced down her throat like what Mia tried to do the first day.
Why did Mistress still allow Mia to have access to Keira was beyond me. Mia held a grudge against Keira and me, so I gave her another reason to further cement her new-found hatred against me when I rearranged her face after I caught her trying to choke the now-catatonic Keira for not eating nor moving.
My raw knuckles still throb under the bandages just thinking about it.
Mistress didn't retaliate against Mia. Again. I don't get it. The most I could do was get Mia banned from interacting with Keira, at best until Keira recovers. What is Mistress thinking?
I don't have to worry about Kristia nor Cleary either. Mistress also got them temporarily banned from Keira's room and assigned Nivia and Pvt Winters to watch over Keira on a rotating basis when I am not with her.
Cleary had the audacity of trying to elicit a response from Keira when she put out her cigarette multiple times on Keira's thigh. No retribution was brought up against Cleary either.
Cleary had been in the lunchroom talking about what she'd done with the most bored expression she could muster, or so I was told. I wish to break all of her yellowing nicotinic fingers!
Kristia, on the other hand, came in when Pvt Winters was on watch and was slapping Keira left and right. Pvt Winters reported that she was pleading with Kristia to stop, but she was outranked and outpowered. Pvt Winters almost got a concussion when she latched onto Kristia's arm, after seeing blood coming out the side of Keira's mouth, and was violently thrown to the opposite side of the room. Pvt Winters had to get a couple of stitches on her forehead in the aftermath. At least she can hide the stitches under her snowy bangs. Consequently, Kristia was told to just walk it off and leave them both alone.
For now, they won't bother with Keira if they can't get a reaction out of her. In any case, I've got Nivia and Pvt Winters to alert me if any of those three get within twenty feet of Keira's room.
If Kristia or Cleary try anything else, they'll have to deal with me. I'll take care of the fallout later.
Bite after slow bite, I got Keira to finish her lunch and sip on water. I only wish she now had a fraction of the attitude that she possessed when I first fed her while she was tied to the bed.
After lunch, getting her to stand up and walk to the shower was a monumental effort. She will only walk if I push her off-balance. Not aggressively, but enough to force her to move forward. I had half a mind to just pick her up and take her there myself, but she needs to get those joints moving. They are stiffer by the day.
That's another thing. Since Keira hardly ever moves now, I've been trying to keep her joints flexible by moving them myself. It takes a good two hours to bend each joint multiple times.
Standing in the middle of the shower, I undress Keira. Yes, everything about her attracts me, but like I promised her, I won't take advantage. I'm here to do an everyday task, not benefit myself.
She keeps losing weight.
It's perturbing.
She's nowhere near where that Emily girl was, but if this keeps up, she could be there at some point. Everytime my hands go to lather on the soap, her bony prominences are ever more evident. Her wrists, clavicles, shoulder blades and spine poking out from under her scars, ribs, sternum, and hips cast deeper and deeper shadows. My hands can now wrap around her entire upper arms with ease.
Her hair is all matted. I blame myself for neglecting that. She should've had better care.
I washed her ragged mane thoroughly, knowing that I won't leave her until I finish untangling it even if that means that I get to sleep less because of all the other duties I need to tend to. An insignificant price to pay to give her some normalcy.
Cleaned, dried, changed, and sitting back in bed, Keira is still unmoving. I position myself behind her. Her entire frame feels tiny and fragile today. I fear it will break under the slightest touch.
I meticulously untangled her tresses, making sure not to pull or cause her pain. As I parted her hair in half, I noticed the tiny scar on her nape.
Wait.
Could the nanochip be the cause of Keira's behavior in the ring? Mistress never divulged any information regarding it, but it's the only unknown variable at this point.
I must investigate. I'll come up with a plan to infiltrate Mistress's records on Keira and the chip.
Regardless of how much time untangling takes me, I finally finished the job. I braided her hair, resolved that this was the best course of action to keep her locks neat the longest before washing it again.
"...thank you." I would've missed the raspy, nearly imperceptible whisper that breezed past her lips had I been so much as inhaling at that second.
She talked!
I can't believe it!
Without hesitation, I get off the bed and pull up a chair to sit right in front of Keira. I'm trying to look up into her eyes, but she's hunched over so much that I can't get past her eyebrows.
My hands are clutching her fingers maybe a little too tightly, but I need her to come back!
"Are you there, Keira? Talk to me. Please!" I didn't know how desperate I was to have her back until she spoke. "I heard you. You said 'thank you'. Please tell me I didn't just imagine it!"
I passed both of her hands to one of mine. I can't let go of her yet. My other hand is rubbing her forearm.
"Come on, Keira. I know you're there somewhere. Say something or give me a sign that I'm not going crazy!"
Minutes, more like an eternity, passed. I feared I might have pushed her too far and had chased away the only sign of consciousness she had displayed in four days.
She didn't say anything. Instead, she weakly closed her thumbs over my hand.
She moved!
She fucking moved by herself!
I didn't dare leave my spot, fearful that this moment would come to an end. I just tightened my hold on her hands.
I still can't see her eyes, but the glimmering tears catch in the light as they fall onto her lap. At first one, quickly followed by another, soon thereafter she's silently sobbing.
I don't think twice about taking action this time. My arms are now cradling her protectively. With every small gasp that she takes, I pull her further into my chest. I don't want this girl to suffer any longer.
-
Keira didn't say a word for the rest of the day. She sobbed until she slumped in my arms, exhausted. I had to clean her face and change my shirt which had become stained from the snot and tears.
I laid her to bed, tucked her in, and kissed the top of her head before leaving to start clean up duty.
I'll be back by dinnertime.
Nivia and Pvt Winters, whoever's on watch, will pop into her room from time to time to confirm that Keira is okay, but won't do anything else except watch out for other people trying to access her room. We've agreed to only let me care for her. The only things that they will help me with is keeping Keira's joints flexible when my duties keep me from being with her for more than thirty minutes or trying to get her to talk.
Pvt Winters went as far as bringing her speakers into Keira's room and keep a low-level ambiance going 24/7.
When I exited Keira's room, Nivia was waiting right outside for further instructions. I debriefed her on Keira's development and told Nivia to check in on her every 15 minutes and text me if there were any new updates.
At this point, I'd drop anything I was doing and rush to Keira's side if it means I get her back.
I'll deal with the backlash. I don't care.