Page 14 of Knight

Footsteps pass by the door occasionally. Once, I think I hear a shower running. The normal sounds of someone going about their day while I sit here, trapped, my whole body becoming one throbbing pulse of pain.

I wonder if the sun has risen yet. I haven't slept in ... how long? I was already awake for hours before Knight messaged me.

A television clicks on somewhere. The sound filters through the walls, indistinct but there. News, maybe? Or one of those morning shows that are always too cheerful.

New voices join the mix. A muffled conversation. Words I can't quite catch.

Should I call out? But what if they're working with him? What if ...

My thoughts scatter like startled birds. Focus keeps slipping away. Everything hurts. My shoulders. My wrists. My head. Even my teeth ache from clenching them.

The television drones on. More footsteps. Doors opening and closing. Life continues like normal while I'm trapped in this bright, sterile hell.

I drift. Maybe sleep for moments at a time, jerking awake when the cuffs bite deeper. The lights never change. Never dim. Never offer any relief from their constant glare.

I lose track of time …

Then the door opens.

My eyes snap open. A woman is standing in the doorway, staring at me with wide eyes. A man appears behind her, his presence filling the space.

"Knight?" His voice is calm, like finding a handcuffed woman in a bathroom is normal. "Why is there a woman chained to the radiator in your bathroom?"

My captor clears his throat, coming into view. "Funny story, really."

"You've kidnapped someone?" The woman whirls around. "What kind of man are you?"

The first man's hand wraps around her arm. "Settle down, Eden. Knight, explain."

"It's not really kidnapping when they break into your apartment." The bastard actually sounds defensive. "It's more ... well, it's more a case of delaying their escape, isn't it?"

Rage burns through the fog of exhaustion. "Fucking asshole."

"You're the intruder here, not me." The same argument he's been making for what feels like forever.

The other man sighs. "D'you know what? I don't want to know. Come on, Eden. We need to get back to the house."

"You're just going to leave her there?" Eden's voice rises with disbelief.

"It's none of our business."

"But—"

"Knight has it handled. If he needs help, he'll ask for it."

"I don't need help." The door closes, sealing me in again with the lights and the pain and the endless drip of the faucet.

The door opens again almost immediately. He stands there for a second, a glass of water in one hand and his gun in the other. My throat constricts at the sight of the water. I don’t care about the gun. Not anymore. I try to swallow but my mouth is too dry.

"Drink." He crouches beside me, bringing the glass to my lips. The gun never wavers from its aim at my chest. "Slowly."

I want to refuse. Want to maintain some shred of dignity. But thirst wins. The first sip is heaven and torture combined. I try to gulp more but he pulls the glass back.

“No.” I can’t stop my whimper.

"I saidslowly. Unless you want to throw it back up. And you should be aware, if that happens, you’ll be cleaning it up, not me."

He controls each sip, measuring them out like I'm a child. Like I'm not even human enough to hold my own glass. Rage burns under my skin but I keep drinking. Ineedthis. Even if it means accepting it from him.

---