It was the same schedule every day. I woke up to a loud pounding on the door, which was usually Tommy coming to bring my breakfast. After breakfast, I was taken back to the room where I had been examined before. I would run on the treadmill, be put through several other exercises and examined some more. It was almost a shorter version of what they had originally done. I went through it as if on autopilot, ignoring the hush of voices that were all around me as I ran or lifted weights or stood on the scale.
I was gaining weight, getting stronger. Even though I took every opportunity to be as unwilling and uncooperative as possible, they took care of me, making me believe that I really was as important to them as they had made it out to be. I was fed well, three meals a day. If I had a particularly good day, though I wasn’t sure what I did to make it so, I was rewarded with dessert, usually something simple like chocolate pudding or fat red strawberries. I hate eating the food, hate taking anything from them, but hunger won out, and I consumed everything they brought me.
After lunchtime, I would be brought back to the small room, where Liam would meet me. I didn’t know what they hoped to accomplish from that. Perhaps it was some sort of sick version of dating, where we were forced to spend time together, in order to make it easier when we…when we…did what we were there for. Most of the time, we just talked, talked about our lives before the virus and the Awakened. We talked about Ash and Liam’s fiancée, Cathy. Often times, I would fall asleep in my chair, and Liam let me, choosing to the read books that lay on the shelf in the corner of the room.
Some days, I let Liam kiss me. Those days were the ones where I tended to get a smile from Dr. Cylon, who often accompanied me on my walks from my room to other parts of the compound. Other days, flashes of Ash’s face made me sick to my stomach, and I couldn’t even stand the sight of Liam in front of me, especially when he looked hurt. It wasn’t his fault that we were in this situation, but I couldn’t make myself care for him that way. I couldn’t make myself give it up to him.
After my “dates” with Liam, they would take me back to my room, where dinner would be waiting for me. I usually took that time to take a shower and then stare at the ceiling, my eyes glued to the camera that was mounted there. All the thoughts and worries and anxieties that I hid during the day usually came pouring out at this moment, and I usually blinked back tears while trying to remain as stoic and hard for the cameras as possible.
It was the same thing every single day. Every day. They became a blur of monotony and boredom, and I lost track of how many days had passed. I kept thinking of Ash, somewhere else in this compound, or so I hoped. I hoped with everything that was left in me that he was still alive.
One of the Sekhmet doctors pried my legs apart, and I sighed, focusing on the goddess on the ceiling, refusing to be a part of this experience at all. Every day, every single stupid day, I was forced through this stupid exam. I didn’t know what they expected to find. I was watched all the time, every moment of every day, and they would know immediately if something had happened between Liam and me.
Maybe it was better if Ash wasn’t alive.
I shook my head and went through the motions of the exam, relieved when it was over and I was escorted back to my room.
Lunch sat on a tray on the desk when I was let back into my room.
“You have one hour,” Tommy warned, using a small key to unlock the handcuffs that were around my wrists and ankles. They seemed so unnecessary now. There wasn’t much fight left in me anymore.
I nodded, sliding into the desk chair and lifting the cover off the tray. I hesitated, as Tommy started to make my way out of the room. “Tommy?”
He spun around, his eyes focusing on me sharply. I didn’t blame him. I never addressed him directly, and I had certainly never called him by his name. “What?” he said. His voice was softer than I had expected, with no hint of anger. He sounded more…wary than anything else.
“How long…” my voice cracked from its lack of use. “How long have I been here?”
He stared at me for a long moment, determining the weight of my question and wondering if he should answer me. He bit his lip and then nodded to himself. “A month,” he said finally.
I nodded, turning back to the desk. A turkey sandwich, complete with lettuce, tomato, onions, avocado and Swiss cheese sat on the plate, with a small side of fruit and potato salad. My stomach rumbled at the sight of it. “I’m nineteen,” I said, softly. “I turned nineteen. I missed my birthday.” It seemed silly to be thinking of a thing like birthdays right now, but it was true. Sometime in the past month, in my time here at Sekhmet, I had turned a year older.
There was a sharp intake of breath behind me, but by the time I turned around, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. I heard the lock turn and then the soft sound of footsteps as he left.
True to his word, he was back an hour later. He looked different, his posture was lazier than before and his eyes refused to meet mine.