Page 50 of I Will Mend You
Xero sits at my side, staring down at me with a frown. His cool fingers slide through my hair, reminding me of how Dad comforted me after the accident.
“You’re alright,” he says. “Stay with me, okay?”
I give him a shaky nod. My head throbs, but it’s nothing compared to the pain in my anus. Delta must have torn me up pretty badly. I blink, trying to focus on Xero’s face through the haze of pain and drugs. His features swim in and out of focus, but his touch anchors me to reality.
Xero doesn’t tell me what happened. I don’t ask, because the answer is obvious. We stay locked in each other’s gazes as mybody metabolizes the drugs. I don’t think I’ll be able to survive another round with Delta. I’d rather die.
Eventually, the door opens, and Grunt walks in with a pair of large dog bowls. His exposed skin outside his mask is still reddened from yesterday’s contact with the hot water.
He stiffens at the sight of dried vomit in the corner and sets down the bowls containing water and a substance that smells like oatmeal.
I clear my throat. “Sorry.”
He flinches. “What?”
“It was my fault you got punished.”
He disappears through the door, only to return with a bucket and mop.
“Eat. Don’t apologize,” he replies in a monotone, not bothering to look in my direction.
“Could you free my hands again, please?” I ask.
With a huff, he lumbers behind me and releases the fastenings around my back that keep my arms folded at my chest. They drop forward, and I sigh with relief.
“How did you end up working for X-Cite Media?” I ask.
Ignoring me, he continues toward the vomit in the corner.
“I can clean that up.”
He huffs a bitter laugh. “If you want to help me, then eat.”
I stare at his broad back, my lips parting with protest, but Xero steps between us and shakes his head.
“Show him you’re cooperating and take a mouthful of that oatmeal,” he says.
With a shaky nod, I shuffle across the floor. Any strength I might have gathered from being force-fed semen and gruel vanished a long time ago when I ejected the contents of my stomach.
I crouch on all fours in front of the water bowl, sipping mouthfuls of cold liquid. It’s unexpectedly refreshing, as I imagined it would taste metallic and stale.
After swallowing enough to quench my thirst, I move onto the second bowl and lower my head into the oatmeal. It’s warm, as though prepared not too long ago, and sweet. Since my fingers are still encased within the jacket’s sleeves, I eat the creamy substance like a dog.
My tastebuds welcome the flavor, and I continue alternating between water and oatmeal until my stomach is full.
“Amethyst,” Xero hisses.
I sit up to find Grunt staring down at me, still holding the mop and bucket.
“Better?” he asks.
“Throw him off-balance,” Xero says.
“Um… I think so,” I slur, trying to sound drowsier than I feel. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, and I’m sorry again for causing you so much trouble.”
After setting the mop and bucket into the hallway, he returns to kneel at my side. “They’re not usually like this, with all the bullying. Things changed here since she took creative control.”
Nodding, I pretend to give a damn. Grunt is only upset because some of the animosity falling on me is now being targeted at him. Regardless of his shitty working conditions, it still amounts to women getting tortured, raped, and killed for entertainment.