Page 25 of UnTrained: Volume One
No, better to wait for whatever happens when he returns. After all, he told me to wait, and nothing good happens to those who disobey.
I sit perfectly still on the soft couch, my hands folded in my lap just as I was trained. The fabric beneath me is more comfortable than anything I've felt in months, but I don't dare relax into it. Comfort is always temporary.
The minutes stretch on, each one feeling like an hour, but still I sit.
After what feels like forever, the door handle turns, and I straighten my spine automatically.
Aiden steps inside, and I sit straighter.
He pauses in front of me, crouching down to look me in the eyes. “Lana. I want to make sure you understand. You’re safe now. I’m here to help you, but I need you to tell me some things so I can do that. So I’m going to ask you again. What do you remember from your life before all of this?”
“Nothing, Sir.” Part of me feels an urge to tell him, to open up, but I’ve been tricked by that before. “Nothing at all.”
He sighs, then stands. “Okay, then. Come with me.”
I follow him out of the room and back down the very same hallway. At least, I think it’s the same, but with the blank white walls and sterile feel, any hallway here would probably look the same.
Yet another reason that I’m glad I didn’t run when he left me alone. I would have just gotten lost.
He leads me back to the room with the exam table, and I feel my stomach drop.
"I don't want to do it this way," Aiden says, his voice low. "But I need you to remember."
I stand frozen in the doorway. The table seems to loom larger now, my skin still tender from the last time. I don't know if I can take more of this, but I know better than to resist.
"Please," I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
"Please," I say again, hating the tremor in my voice. "I can't—I don't?—"
But Aiden shakes his head, his expression unreadable. "I need you to tell me what you remember, Lana. One thing. Anything from before."
But I can’t.
All I can do is obey.
So when Aiden points me into the room, then to the exam table, I obey.
I allow him to pull away my sweatpants before I sit, and then I don’t fight as he directs my feet into the stirrups, or as he fastens restraints around my limbs.
The leather bites into my wrists and ankles as the restraints are tightened into place. My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare up at those familiar ceiling tiles. Twenty-seven of them, each one a small escape from whatever's about to happen.
"I'm going to try something different this time," Aiden says, his voice coming from somewhere beside the table. I can't see him with my head positioned like this, can only track his movement by the sound of his footsteps.
Something different. My stomach clenches at the words. Different usually means worse.
I hear him moving around the room, opening cabinets, the soft clink of metal against metal. My breathing becomes shallow as I wait, every muscle in my body coiled tight despite the restraints holding me in place.
The sound of footsteps approaches the table again, and I brace myself for pain.
"I need you to talk to me, Lana," Aiden says, his voice closer now. "Take a deep breath."
I try, but the air catches in my throat. The restraints hold me open, vulnerable in a way that makes panic flutter beneath my ribs. I've been in this position before.
I know what comes next.
"Breathe," Aiden says again, and something in his tone makes me focus on his voice instead of my racing heart. "Just breathe with me, Lana."
I try to match the rhythm he sets, slow and steady. In. Out. In. Out.
