by A. Z. Green
He clenched his jaw as he stared at her. She looked away, appearing indifferent by this bombshell she'd just landed on them but inside she was ashamed. She really couldn't believe she would have let herself die rather than tell them she was in need. It was pride beyond the extreme. She wanted to fix it.
Whenever she saw a flaw in herself she felt compelled to fix it. To better herself. Even in this horrible, twilight-zone of a situation she still wanted to correct her mistake. Not for anyone else, but for her.
She saw that Maria was standing still, holding her handbag. She'd been watching the scene from a distance and had gone into a semi-daydream. She quickly realized Jaz was looking at her and blinked, focusing on her granddaughter with raised, questioning brows. She could see a question appearing on the girl's lips.
“Can I have my pills, please?”
Maria felt pathetic when her heart swelled at being spoken to directly by her -not in anger or a negative way, but politely.
You've gone soft you old fool, she chided herself. A faint smile played along her plump, caramel-glossed lips. “Of course.” She held out the bag in front of her and stepped forward.
Jaz took it and bobbed her head in thanks. She opened the bag and found the pills bottle. A sense of paranoia tickled at her brain as she wondered if they'd swapped the pills.
I'd know anyway, she assured herself though she wasn't confident. She didn't have any other reason but she believed they wouldn't do that.
After all this drama and lack of food -apart from the bloody steak that's effect had now worn off- she was feeling the symptoms of severely low iron. Her breathing was weak and difficult. She felt so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. And very sick and hollow from days of bad sleep, next to no food and tap water. She wasn't even sure the pills would help much.
Guess it doesn't matter if I ask now.
“This might not be enough...” she began.
Maria gazed at her in confusion. She took in the girl's tired, withered appearance and the knowledge that her granddaughter hadn't eaten anything for days into consideration before asking, “What do you need?”
Driver focused on the two women intently. Skye had finished the bandage and was waiting for the right moment to leave.
“An iron shot,” Jaz replied quietly. It was a hard thing to admit, especially to these people, but she didn't have a choice. She really didn't want to die. She thought she did before, but not anymore. “It's called Iron Dextran. That's what I'm usually given. If not Ferumoxytol works pretty much the same.”
“Skye?” Driver said. It sounded like a command, Jaz observed, but then considered his voice always seemed to sound that way.
The dainty, tall girl stood to her feet; the first aid kit tucked under her arm. Her deep green t-shirt and acid-denim jeans blocked Jaz's view of Driver. Jaz then leaned to one side before she realized what she was doing.
Will you stop doing that!? she screeched to herself and held still. She could make out half his body and face from there. Driver continued instructing, “Go with Maria and bring it back, alone.”
That was an icy slap for Maria, Jaz thought and gazed at the old woman, feeling just a little sorry for her. If Maria thought of it that way she didn't show it. In fact she seemed to be in agreement and Jaz was right. Maria rarely took anything to heart. What was necessary always came first above any emotion. That's why she was the best at decision-making. She and Driver were about on par in that area.
With that they left and the suffocating realization that she was alone with him was threatening to cut off her air. She sucked in a deep breath.
Driver picked up her small, red suitcase and carefully walked back towards the bed. He dropped the suitcase on the bed next to her and sat on the far end leaving it in between them so she'd feel more at ease. Her gaze flickered in his direction but she didn't want to look him in the eye again. It gave him the opportunity to check her out properly up close for the first time.
His strong vision caught the golden-red strands of hair as the faint light from the window hit them. It was past eight at night so the light was a mixture of overhead lamps on the outside wall, shining down, and the moon. The night sky was clear tonight. He'd seen it when he'd gone out for a smoke. He didn't smoke. It just proved how stressed out he'd been.
The warm yellow from outside was very calming in the dim room. He didn't like bright lights. None of them did. Along with Jaz's close proximity, -despite current events- he found himself drifting into a new level of calm. A place he hadn't been for a long time.
“Get what you need for your shower,” he began gruffly.
She stared up at him then. He gazed back.
Her skin was pale and soft. She had shadows under her eyes but they didn't diminish her beauty. In a way they enhanced it though he wasn't sure why. Maybe he was biased? No. She was definitely beautiful. Her eyes were a mysterious, alluring mixture of the green and blue he'd spotted when they'd first met. It seemed like light years ago now. They now watched him with curious and uncertain edginess. “Go on,” he encouraged.
She held her gaze for one more second before she looked down and started unzipping her bag. She turned it so the lid would lift in his direction and partially block his view of the contents inside. He was a gentlemen -though a sometimes passionate, hotheaded one- and stood up to give her some privacy.
She suddenly remembered something odd about the contents in her handbag and grabbed it from her other side, plonking it onto her lap. He turned to look as she rummaged aggressively through the contents. The shuffling and tapping of plastic and material filled the air and then stopped just as she pulled her hand back out, empty.
“Where's my phone?”
Driver's lips drooped down on one side regretfully. “We took it.” Jaz's mouth opened to protest. “Temporarily,” he assured her though with his deep voice it always sounded like a command or a final decision you wouldn't dare question. Unless you happened to be very stubborn.
She huffed in irritation. “Great. So when do I get it back? Like... never?”
Driver couldn't help smiling a little. “No, when we're sure we've gained your trust.” Jaz raised an ironic eyebrow. “We have others' safety to think of.”
That interested her but she was too exhausted to get into it. She saved it in her memory bank for another time.
Her gaze lingered on her bandaged hand. It tingled now and she was curious as to what the herb concoction was and how/if it even worked.
Her feet were aching like a mean bout of growing pains. She lifted one foot up in a one crossed-leg position and rubbed the top of it, not wanting to touch near her toes in case she made it worse. She still didn't dare look underneath the bandages. They were dirty now and were starting to stink. “My parents will worry,” she mumbled.
“We'll contact them soon.”
“What about my friends, my life, my school? Am I ever going to see any of them again?” She squeezed the curve of her foot comfortingly, not noticing Driver approach until he knelt down in front of her. She reacted with a start, dropping her foot to the floor. It hit it harder than she'd meant to and she let out a small whimper of pain.
Driver frowned at her, scanning down her leg to scrutinize her injured foot. “You're not a prisoner here.”
“Really?” she asked sarcastically.
He focused on her flushed face.“My answer to your questions is the same as why you can't have your phone. Until then, you'll just have to trust me.” His voice was dangerously buttery and warm when he said that last line. Jaz kept statue still. “I'll get Skye to change those too,” he cocked his head down at her bandaged feet. “She's got a great remedy to help with pain and healing.”
Whatever happened to paracetamol or ibuprofen? She scoffed inwardly.
Driver studied her face, guessing her thoughts. He gazed down at the ground by her feet, hiding another faint smile. When he looked up again Jaz was glowering at him but it was a pained expression. The breath he was inhaling got lodged
in his throat.
“Why did you do it?” she questioned, her voice breaking on the first word.
He paused, hesitating. “Did you feel any strange, painful pressure in your feet and lower legs at any point?” Jaz nodded slowly, carefully. His eyelids lowered somewhere between a long blink and fully closed before they looked at her again. “We will tell you everything in time. You just have to believe me when I say that if we hadn't done it, you'd have been much worse off.”
“Done what exactly? What did you do to my feet?” she asked bitterly.
Driver chose his next words carefully. “We had to... cut the toenails away from the sides of the nail bed, otherwise the pressure of the new ones coming through would have curled them into your toes and damaged your feet for good... possibly crippling you.” Driver's straight talking shocked Jaz. She gaped at him, looking confused and repulsed at the same time. He half shrugged. “Like I said, I don't expect you to understand it all right now.”
“New ones?”
“Toenails.”
Jaz stared. He was a bloody lunatic. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She was more bewildered now than angry.
“You won't understand, or believe me if I told you the truth. Not now.”
Her brow furrowed in complete puzzlement and irritation. “Try me,” she said stiffly.
He paused, then sighed as if he was trying to teach a monkey to speak Japanese. She conjured up the satisfying image of snapping his neck. He then said, “All I can tell you is that more things will happen to you... changes... physically and mentally. Like your feet, and your extreme hunger.” She tried not to shy away as he said this. The memory of it sickened her to her stomach- and frankly, it was embarrassing. “And like them, you won't be able to understand or control it, if you're on your own.”
Control it? She didn't like the sound of that. She also hadn't overlooked his emphasis on the words 'if you're on your own'.
She stuck out her jaw stubbornly to hide her trepidation. “Are you crazy?” she accused in a low voice. “I mean you seriously expect me to believe this crap? All this shit that's happened to me started when you spiked my drink with who knows what!”
“Believe what you want. You'll know soon enough.” She hated how that sounded like a threat. “It's why we brought you here. You're one of us.” She glared at him. He knew he'd hit a nerve and shut his mouth.
“I'm not one of you.” He didn't speak. She changed her train of thought. “So if I'm not a prisoner here, that mean I can get up and leave right now?”
“If you think you can survive alone,” he responded without even blinking. It made him look and sound ominous. “Though you'd be a danger to not only yourself, but to others.”
Although most of her believed he was talking out of his arse, she still couldn't help feeling uneasy. It was clear, -and she didn't know how, but she could sense it- that something wasn't right with her, with him and all the others. She'd even sensed something was different about Erica though she hadn't actually thought about it until now. It had just been a passing feeling. Though she wasn't sure if their 'something wasn't right', was the same as her 'something not right'. Only Driver had said that. She studied him.
His face was unreadable, his dark, piercing eyes were fixed on her; their windows sealed shut.
“You're just saying that so you scare me out of leaving.” She didn't sound so sure when she said it and scolded herself inwardly. A flicker of unease brushed across the surface of her face and was gone.
He saw it and didn't like it, but he admittedly was playing hardball. He needed her to stay because he genuinely cared about her, and anyone else she cared about. Though she wouldn't see it that way. If it meant making her fearful of him just so she would stay, so be it. But his next words contradicted that thought. “You're right,” she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I don't want you to leave...” he looked at her significantly. “But I don't want to hold you here through fear.”
She laughed once, icily. “Says the guy who kidnapped me.”
His lips twitched but that was his only reaction. “I swear to you,” he began in an intense voice locking eyes with her. Jaz felt a flutter somewhere inside. “Everything we've done... it's all been for you, for your protection.”
“What about having that 'Doctor Bitch from Hell' poking around inside me? Was that for my 'protection'?” Jaz shot back at him.
He'd been waiting for this. He stood, paced back towards the closet, turned, walked halfway towards her and then stopped. “We needed to be sure.” Jaz gave him a look that told him she'd go mental if he said anything else in code as an answer. He sighed, thinking of how he could explain it as delicately as possible. In fact, it was rather embarrassing for him, and no doubt it would be for her too. “A year ago you had an... incident that left you in hospital?” Jaz sat stiffly and gawked at him. She hated Erica -with a passion- for telling a complete stranger about her private life. “You were told you had a miscarriage?” he added, only because it was significant, otherwise he'd have left well alone.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Driver could feel her suffering through the link they shared. His past came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. He took a moment before continuing. “That would mean you weren't a virgin and the miscarriage might have been because of incompatibility with the man in question.” She stared at him blankly. “If that was the case then we'd have had enough proof to suspect you're really one of us. A few tests could have determined what had happened to cause the miscarriage and that would tell us the truth. But we found out you hadn't even...” Jaz didn't bother to finish his sentence. The word 'virgin' was practically a flashing sign above her head. “And then we knew for sure who you were. The dates matched.”
She gaped at him, so mortified and stripped bare, she couldn't even begin to demand to know what he was rambling on about. He might as well have been speaking some ancient dead language.
In his mind, he was swimming with relief and joy.
Every man -like every woman- secretly hopes that their life partner -the one they want to spend the rest of their life with, have babies with and all that jazz- hasn't been touched by anyone else. It can put a lot of guys off -or just make them jealous and self-conscious- to know that the woman they're interested in has slept with someone or more than one other -especially more than one other- before them.
“That is NOT your business,” she hissed.
Driver gazed intently at her.
He believed it was. Because she in part, belonged to him.
Even if she never wanted to be really his, she'd always have that link to him and he to her. It mattered to him, so he had a right to know. But he still felt bad about doing it in such an invasive way. Especially when... well that was the next thing he'd have to tell her. Now was probably not the best time.
Before he had to come up with a response, someone knocked on the door. Jaz turned, noticing that it had been shut all that time. She shivered unpleasantly. Never again did she want to be alone with him.
Skye appeared from behind the door carrying a small zipped satchel in her hand.
“Come in,” Driver beckoned with his fingers.
She entered surveying the two of them pryingly but pretended to focus on her task of unzipping the satchel when Driver gave her a look. She perched on the edge of the bed and opened the satchel fully. The familiar sight of a small, light-orange vial with a long curved lid filled Jaz's vision. There was a brand new syringe tucked into the loop support.
“You want me to...?” Skye trailed off signaling to 'do the honours' though she either wasn't sure what to do, or was embarrassed because she did know what to do and what that would mean for her.
If the latter, then what she was really asking was... 'Is it okay if I stick this needle in your backside?' and then, 'Do I really have to?'.
Either way Jaz wasn't going to let her anywhere near her anything with pointy objects of any kind. No offense to her, Jaz thought, she seemed nice bu
t she just didn't trust her. “No, I've got it.”
The girl seemed relieved by her response, though maybe it was Jaz's imagination.
“You can go now,” Driver said, a little harder than he meant.
Skye wasn't fazed. She jumped up, smiled at Jaz who stared warily at the springy girl before she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Great. Alone again. Jaz glared at the syringe, tempted to stab him in the eye with it but her nerves were shot after her last attempt at fighting him. He was scarily strong. She eyed him beneath her lashes.
He was watching her with an unfathomable expression. “I'll get the shower ready.” He walked off towards the door she'd suspected had been a bathroom all along and she could just see his foot as he leant into a walk in shower that was hidden from her place on the bed. The sound of water running filled the silence.
She rummaged through her luggage. She'd brought her own towel, just in case. She grabbed a change of clothes then unzipped her leopard-print toiletry bag fishing for her usual grooming items, including her razor. She wondered what he'd say about that as she stuffed her clothes and toiletries into the towel, wrapping it around like a sausage roll as she tucked it under one arm. She held the sharp razor with that hand and the iron injection satchel in the other. She wasn't going to hide the 'possible weapon'. He'd have to fight her for it.
I am not gonna be hairy for the rest of my life! she vowed.
She sidled over to the open bathroom door where steam was now pouring out.
Driver was waiting by the stone counter with the built in metal sink, which was opposite the molded, beige, stone shower with a front of frosted glass. The floors were huge square slabs of a rough, milk-chocolate coloured stone. There was a enamel toilet with an oak seat (matching the door) and the right wall where the sink stood was decorated with -the same- oak cladding. It was actually rather tasteful and warming.
The other wall was the exposed stone she felt she knew so well. It gave her mixed feelings, mostly the bad kind. She looked away and gazed back at Driver.
He had his head leant over his high shoulders looking down into the sink; his big, long-fingered hands supporting his weight and heavy head as they rested on either side of the stone top.
