Insubstantially Me

Chapter 8

I spent the next week working relentlessly on strengthening my arms and perfecting my plan in my head. I figured with another week of exercise, I'd be able to pull myself up through the ceiling without a problem.

Potentially, my problems would start after I got up there. I wasn't sure where the vent would lead me. There were several places outside that could be possibilities, all unsettlingly high. Not that the height bothered me so much, but the uncertainty did.

My escape would have to be at night, when the guards were most likely pretty lax. How exciting could watching me sleep be? Especially since everything was dark on the screen. Unfortunately, I didn't know if there would be guards outside at night. Mostly, I was hoping that Wescott was cocky enough to believe he didn't need them, but I couldn't be sure.

Then of course, when I finally did get away, I'd have to figure out how to stay that way. I didn't know where I was or where to go. I didn't have any money or food or anything else helpful. And I didn't know anyone that I'd be able to ask for help. I was supposed to be dead, so going to the police wasn't exactly wise. There would probably be a story on the news and my mom would be notified. And, by default, so would Wescott. Assuming he didn't catch me before I had the chance to go to them for help, of course.

And then there was my mom. That was the real problem in all of this. I couldn't be sure Wescott wouldn't hurt her if I escaped. Especially if I failed in my attempt. I tried not to worry about it though. I wouldn't fail, and Wescott was only using my mom as motivation. He couldn't motivate me if I wasn't here.

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I focused on the stupid task that Wescott had me working on for the day. I'd been distracted all last week, thinking about my escape, and it showed in my work. Wescott was becoming irritated, and I worried he might try to "motivate" me to get me to meet his expectations.

He came and stood over me as I worked. I ignored him and kept working for a minute, but then gave in and looked up. I'd never worked well with an audience.

"What?" I snapped.

"You aren't performing well, Abi." A slight threat colored his voice.

I sighed. "Well, maybe I need a break." I'd been working on assembling and disassembling these stupid things for too long.

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you need a little motivation."

I stared at him for a minute, doubtful. His threat was getting old.

"And what motivation would that be?" I asked. "I'm not sure if you've realized it, but you can only kill my mother one time." Of course I didn't want it to happen, but I knew he wouldn't waste that resource on me simply being unfocused.

"So if I'm not doing as well because I'm burned out doing this stupid work day after day, and you use that, what then? What's to make me want to do anything for you after that?" I asked. "I think you're full of it."

He frowned at me for a few seconds. "Your mother is not the only motivation I'm willing to use."

"Meaning what?" I challenged. "I don't have any close friends. There's no one else I care about enough for you to use." I was more thankful than ever that I'd always been a loner.

"No one at all?" he asked in a tone that said he didn't agree. "Perhaps no one you love quite like your mother. I'll give you that. But there is an endless supply of people in this world," he said. "For instance, all those darling children you volunteered with over the years. Or others like them."

I just watched him warily, wondering what he was getting at.

"It would be a shame for some unfortunate accident to befall them, don't you think?" he asked. "And for you to have to see it and know it was your fault." He shook his head and tisked in mock sympathy.