Her mind repeated profanities over and over again until she lashed out physically and kicked the tray so hard it whipped across the floor, smashing into the door with a thud. Her toes smarted but it didn't deter her feeling of satisfaction.
The water from the cup spilled into the tray, making it a murky brown swimming pool for ants. The steak and most of the potatoes were sloshed around a bit but otherwise unharmed. A few pieces of potato hadn’t been so lucky and were now little islands floating in the ant pool. It’s all yours ants. Enjoy.
*
Driver and Maria stared at the monitor. They had been transfixed on the screen ever since the hidden camera in Jaz’s room had shown she’d woken up, for the second time.
The first time, Driver had nearly crushed the frame of the swivel chair he was gripping, wishing they hadn’t had a microphone installed in these damned cameras. The sound of her crying out when she’d discovered her bloody toes still sent shivers down his spine.
It had to be done. He didn’t need to reassure himself of that. It was a fact.
Unfortunately, a lot of things he took no pleasure in doing had to be done.
If they hadn’t cut her nails from the skin, her feet would have been crippled forever. His frown lines deepened as he imagined the agony. She’d have probably never recovered in her current state. She was still 'un-Changed'.
So it was either that small sacrifice or the high chance she’d never walk again.
There was no contest.
The sound of something plastic crashing against the door of her room stirred him from his daydream. He looked up.
Maria, whose stern face was usually void of emotion, watched her granddaughter on the screen with a small hint of amusement in the sharp, lined face that Driver believed had once been very beautiful. She resembled an old Michelle Pfeiffer. Her silver hair was shoulder length, parted at one side in elegant waves. She wore little make-up apart from bright red lipstick. The corners of her red lips were now raised up just a fraction in a light smile.
“What was that?” Driver demanded.
“Guess she’s not hungry,” the old woman commented dryly.
A guttural growl escaped between Driver’s clenched teeth.
The old woman was very good at hiding her uneasiness.
“She has to eat,” he grumbled.
“Give it time. She’ll get hungry eventually.”
Driver grunted. He frowned at her and then concentrated on the screen. The girl had lain back on her bed. He could hear the tiny sobs escape between her pressed lips and he gloomed. He felt completely powerless to do anything. “If she doesn’t eat something soon, I’m gonna force it down her throat myself.”
“You and I both know that won’t be necessary,” Maria said.
*
The Next Day...
Tuesday May 10th, 5:50 p.m.
Surveillance Room
Jaz hadn’t taken her iron pills for three days. She hadn’t eaten anything either.
She could barely sit up in bed. The exhaustion had gone from mild to severe and she started to regret not eating. Even if it was tainted with drugs, she wouldn’t have to die a horrible death. What if I have a heart attack? She shivered at the thought.
Her fever had gone but it had left her feeling frail. She’d have recovered from it quicker if she wasn’t so reliant on medication to get through the day.
I don’t want to die. But she didn’t want to be someone’s pet either.
She started to wonder if they even knew she was anaemic. Had they figured it out yet? All they have to do is look in my handbag. She cursed to herself. Why didn’t I grab it before I ran? Stupid, stupid.
The night before at around the same time, she had woken up to the sound of a tray scraping on the floor. She’d sprung up in alarm from her lying position on the bed only to lock eyes with the startled face of a young man, barely eighteen.
He watched her cautiously without blinking, as if trying to gauge what she would do.
Even she was shocked by her reaction when she jumped from the bed and pounced on him. She managed to claw his pretty cheek with her nails before he pushed her back, hurled himself out the room and slammed the door shut with his foot. The sound of a lock bolting echoed through the thick door before all was silent.
She sat, slumped against the wall in an awkward position panting heavily with adrenaline. The shock at her primal reaction and the rage she had felt, froze her in place. The fury simmered beneath her skin; she could feel it. As her breathing slowed and evened out, the rage faded away. But she knew it was waiting.
She didn’t catch the boy again, they made sure of that. But the food still came at regular intervals. Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. When she didn’t eat the first meal, it was removed and replaced by the second, then the second by the third. Uneaten. She didn’t eat any of them.
They had left her an early dinner on the floor when she was asleep- which seemed to be most of the time now. She barely woke up to look at it before rolling over and drifting back to sleep again.