Ch. 50: Get on with it

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Once again, he was left in darkness.

Gareth was back, sitting on the crate; he already knew what that meant. There was no doubt in his mind. What had him confused was what had happened before he got locked back into place.

It had happened, what he figured was quite a while, after Grychenko and John had left to negotiate.

In the time he had waited, Gareth had felt a strange calm enter his body. Something he could not explain, but his brain had stopped feeling so fogged, and some of his weakness had seemed to dissipate.

When a bunch of Grychenko's men had come in, Gareth had for a moment thought the negotiations with John had failed, and the men had come to kill him. As a minimum there to beat him senseless, again. When he had seen some of them dragging in a mattress, while some of the others released him from the shackles, he had gone with the flow, not knowing what to expect.

Again, they had taken him to a bathroom and given him time to do his business. They had offered him a washcloth and allowed him to wash up if he wanted.

That he had.

He had taken his time doing it. They had not rushed him, though they usually did not because of how weak his body was, and every movement was slow and painful.

There had been no mirror in the bathroom, probably because they feared he would break it and use the shards as a weapon against them or simply to kill himself. Gareth had no intention of doing either. He had made a deal that he honored. He might not like the idea of being tortured to death. It was the price he would willingly pay for Mackenzie's safety. So he kept his end and would allow Grychenko to do whatever.

Suicide was not in him.

The most welcomed part of the whole surreal bathroom experience had been the chance to brush his teeth. People who did that daily had no idea how much of a privilege that was.

When done in the bathroom, Gareth had gotten taken back to his cell, as it were, despite the size and lack of bars and other cell-like facilities.

And boy had things changed.

The mattress lay next to the wall not too far from that strange dining room table. New shackles were drilled into the wall, ready to secure him again.

One for his ankle and one for his wrist.

On the mattress had waited a pillow and a duvet along with a blanket. Gareth had not known what to think. For a moment, he had entertained the idea of sexual assault to break him. It probably would have, and he surely would not have put it past Grychenko, knowing how sick that fucker was.

His thoughts got put to shame.

When they had secured his shackles, with the chains limiting his movements to just the mattress area, and maybe a foot or so beyond that, they had stood there just observing him. He had done nothing but sit and silently enjoy the feel of the mattress under him.

After however long on the crate, it had been a good feeling.

It was not clear what they had wanted from him or expected him to do. He had simply sat there and waited, not touching the pillow or the duvet.

After a while, a man had come in, carrying a tray with assorted food on it. Another had brought three different plastic cups, the size of those bought at stadiums.

The cups respectively had held lemonade, water, and coffee.

Dear blessed coffee.

The tray had held an assortment of food. Delicious-looking food that did not look like it had been microwaved and slapped onto the tray. It had looked well-prepared and presented.

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