Legacy

Chapter 20: Cold... So Cold

I jolt into consciousness with warm lips pressed hard against mine. Ice cold water shoots out of my lungs as I cough. My lungs feel like they're on fire as I breathe in that sweet sweet oxygen. I can't feel my fingers or toes. The water has plugged my ears and my skin is frozen numb. Sight is the only sense I can even try to use. My eyelids fight to open but only manage a tiny squint.

The sky is inky black and I can make out a few stars beyond the tree branches. I move my head painfully from side to side as a bright beam of light is flashed across my eyes. I squeeze them shut again, but gloved fingers pull my eyelids open and shine the light directly into my retina. I groan, but don't fight those hands.

Is this a paramedic? Am I finally safe?

My thoughts are cut short when my savior flips the flashlight to show his face.

No! No! No!

My muscles are too weak to propel me away.

Michael's cold blue eyes burn into mine as he says something I cannot hear. He removes the gloves. His hands actually feel a little warm as they run roughly along my freezing skin. He peels off my sopping wet dress as I try futilely to push him away. My muscles are too weak to do any good. It's no use as he tugs it up over my head.

I feel him tie something around my upper thigh and wrap up the gash in my leg.

He tosses my sopping dress across his shoulder and picks me up, one arm around my back, the other tucked under my knees. I try to push his face away, but he grips my hand and loops my arm around his neck. My other hand clenches into a tight fist and I feel a jolt of pain shoot through my arm, so I quickly relax it.

As he stands up and starts walking I feel myself drift away again.

~~~~~

I wake up back in the basement, the same chain around my ankle. The same creaky mattress. The same insanity-inducing white walls and floor. The same grimy bathtub.

It's like nothing has changed since the first time I woke up down here... except for the fact that Michael actually pulled a few warm blankets over my body before leaving me alone. He even put me in some dry clothes to replace the dress he stripped off me. When I move my leg, my thigh is numb and I don't want to look and see why.

I try to pull myself free of the shackle, but no amount of strength can help me, and that worked out so well the first time I tried. A sharp pain shoots through my arm again. Not a simple cramp. My arm has to be dislocated or something. It becomes hard to breathe as tears start to fill my eyes.

Not here. Not again. Not him.

"MICHAEL!" I scream at the top of my lungs, even though the back of my throat feels like sandpaper.

The click of the lock on the barred door makes me hold my breath. It's not just the man who put me here, but also the woman who made sure I'd stay here. There's no way she didn't know about the bridge. And she clearly didn't try very hard to keep Michael busy. That bitch Nancy.

Michael's face is a hardened mask with no emotion or humanity as he sits down on the bed next to me. His eyes land on my injured arm. He snatches hold of it by the wrist and I hiss in pain.

"It's cracked," he mumbles, chewing on his lip. "Nancy, if you'd be so kind." She nods and goes to fetch the first aid kit. Michael shakes his head at me. "I want you to feel this, Morning Bird," he says squeezing my already injured arm until it bends and snaps and I scream. Michael shushes me and shoves my head into his waiting shoulder. "Now let's reset it," he reaches for my arm but I bat his hand away with my good hand. He sighs. "It needs to be reset so it can heal properly."

I give up and lay my mangled arm in his waiting hand. With a couple painful pops and screams, my arm at least looks normal again. Just in time too. Nancy steps in with the first aid kit.

"Broke her arm, I see," she says, a little too perkily as she removes what she needs from the kit.

The silence that follows is almost deafening as Nancy sets my arm and wraps it up in gauze until I might as well call it a proper cast. Then she ties a strip of fabric around my arm and shoulder to keep the joints in place.

It's only then that I feel just how frozen my skin is and pull a blanket around me. They are still staring at me as I sneeze into my hand, and a decent amount of mucus coats my upper lip.

Nancy hands me a box of tissues while Michael goes to the small kitchen and comes back with a steaming cup of tea. She shoots me a hateful look as he fiddles with the soaked tea bag. "Here," he says, offering it to me. "Maybe you won't jump in the freezing river next time, yeah?" A joke, but it's anything but humorous.

I glare and say nothing as I carefully accept it with my good hand. The gentle heat feels amazing against my face as I bring it to my lips and sip. The tea burns my tongue. I don't taste it, but I can feel the heat snake down my throat before settling in my stomach.

My muscles go rigid as Michael brushes some hair behind my ear. I look up at him and we lock eyes; his conveying a controlled rage that he has to have a mental leash on. Mine on the other hand, shows exhausted terror, I'm sure.

Nancy's hand lands on his shoulder. "Honestly, Michael," she says, "Why don't you just cut her loose? You don't need her." Michael raises an eyebrow, his face unreadable. "I can give you whatever you want." He looks over at her and she bats her eyelashes.

Michael sighs, "I've already told you, Nancy," he pushes her hand away, "you have too many health issues. It's too risky."

"This girl doesn't care about you. She doesn't appreciate you. She ran away from you! And you bring her back only to sit around worrying about her! Honestly, Michael!"

My eyes dart back to Michael. His face is flushed with color and I feel my stomach drop.

Worried? Like, actually worried?

Nancy huffs and pulls a knife from behind her back. "She doesn't deserve you!" I instinctively fling the hot tea all over the front of her awful pink outfit. Her shriek is something straight out of a horror movie Mason would have insisted I watch. "Look what she did!"

I barely have time to gasp and press my back up against the wall before she lunges and Michael grips her wrist, resulting in the blade dragging across his forearm. He grunts as he wrenches the knife from her hand and pushes her to the ground. Nancy looks up at him, tears welling in her eyes like a small child.

"Get out!" The leash is instantly removed from his inner rage. It's almost primal. I've never seen him so infuriated as he throws a finger in the direction of the door, bright red blood flying to the floor.

I pull the blanket around me and hide behind my pillow, unable to stop my hands and arms from shaking.

I haven't seen such anger since I broke the plate in front of my dad. The bruise on my ribs may have healed, but that doesn't mean that the fear and pain has.

Will Michael decide to hurt me like that? Have I crossed an unforgivable line?

Nancy's eyes grow wide. "Michael I-"

"I SAID GET OUT!" This time he points the knife at her, adding blood to the tea stains on her clothes, and this time she obeys with tears running down her face. My eyes never leave her as she rushes to leave. I flinch and hug my pillow tighter.

My spine relaxes as she disappears and I look back at Michael as he fiddles with her knife, the handle sliding from hand to hand. The white light glints off the blade and the blood on the floor and I stiffen.

My voice scratches against my throat as I force myself to ask: "Are you going to kill me now," I croak, my voice muffled by the pillow I have pressed against my face. I only allow my eyes to be visible.

Michael's eyes shoot up to mine. My blood turns to ice in my veins. His eyes look back down at the blade and his face twists in disgust. He throws the knife at the wall, making me flinch, and storms out of the basement, leaving me all alone once again.

I lie down on the creaky mattress and stare around the basement. My arm aches as I clutch my pillow tighter.

Michael's blood on the wall and floor is the only thing I can see.