Beasthood (The Hidden Blood Series) (8 page)

~
Chapter 9-
Refuse~

Monday May 9
th
, 2011, 12:40 p.m. -
Locked Cell.

             
The smell of food woke her. She forced her sore eyelids to open. The skin of her right cheek was glued to the sheet by dried salty tears. She peeled herself from it and sat up. Her brain flopped about in her skull making her feel nauseous.

             
The aroma of charcoaled red meat and potatoes filled her nostrils. She looked towards the door and then slowly trailed her puffy eyes downwards. A plastic brown tray had been placed on the floor. It hadn’t been long since it’d been put there; the food was still steaming hot.

She took a deep whiff of it and her stomach gurgled and groaned.

There was also a plastic cup of water next to the matching cheap, plastic, blue plate. The only two things that stopped her from pouncing on the heavenly smelling food were her fear and paranoia.

They’ve drugged you before.

             
She had shuffled on her elbows and knees to the edge of the bed. Now she leant over, examining the plate of food as if a poisonous snake would suddenly spring out of it and bite her.

I’m so thirsty,
she moaned in her head. She looked skeptically at the plastic cup.
Drugs would probably be in there too.

She swung her legs round until they hung over the edge of the bed and rested the balls of her socked feet on the cold, light brown floor. She started unconsciously tapping her right foot at least three times a second. She did that when she was nervous, troubled or in deep thought, but then stopped when her toes began to throb.

              She anchored her hands to the edge of the bed and fixed her eyes on the food, unblinking.

I need to eat,
she persevered.
My iron levels are already too low.

You can’t seriously be considering eating that drug riddled crap?
Her fiercer mental voice argued.

I don’t really have a choice do I?

Sure you do-

AND BESIDES…it might not even be drugged.

The fierce voice gave a skeptical
‘hymph!’
in reply before the reasoning voice asked,

Okay then. What do you suppose I do?

You refuse to eat.
Jaz’s mouth opened unsurely and she contemplated this worrying option. Then she frowned.

This isn’t a game; you know how dangerous that is.

Would you prefer it if you spent the rest of your life alive, in here, being drugged and prodded and who knows what else?

She
didn’t like that idea one bit. Her whole group of emotional inward voices said in unison,

I need my pills. I feel really ill.

Tell them then!
The fierce voice bellowed. Jaz cringed imagining that scenario.

Ha! Tell my merciless kidnappers that my one major weakness- besides being locked up and given only the possibly drug infested food they provide as my only sustenance- is that I happen to be severely anaemic? Oh yeah, and um, you have my pills. Could you please give them back?
The reasoning voice laughed without humour.

Ah…

Yeah…
ah
.

Her whole brain kept repeating profanities over and over again until she lashed out physically and kicked the tray so hard it whipped across the floor, smashing into the door with a thud. Her toes smarted but it didn't deter her feelings of satisfaction.

The water from the cup spilled into the tray, making it a murky brown swimming pool for ants. The steak and most of the potatoes were sloshed around a bit but otherwise unharmed. A few pieces of potato hadn’t been so lucky and were now little islands floating in the ant pool.

It’s all yours ants. Enjoy.

             
                                                                      *

              Driver and the old woman stared at the monitor. They had been glued to the screen ever since the hidden camera in Jaz’s room had shown she’d woken up; for the second time.

             
The first time, Driver had nearly crushed the frame of the swivel chair he was gripping, wishing they hadn’t had a microphone installed in these damned cameras.

             
The sound of her crying out when she’d discovered her bloody toes still sent shivers down his spine.

It had to be done. He didn’t need to reassure himself of that. It was a fact.

Unfortunately, a lot of things he took no pleasure in doing had to be done.

If they hadn’t cut her nails from the skin, her feet would have been crippled forever. His frown lines deepened as he imagined the agony.

She’d have probably never recovered in her current state.

She was still 'unchanged'.

It was either this or the high chance she’d never walk again. Unaided or at all.

There was no contest.

The sound of something plastic crashing against the door of her room stirred him from his daydream.  He looked up.

The old woman, whose stern face was usually void of emotion, eyed the girl on the screen with a small hint of amusement and intrigue in the sharp, lined face that Driver imagined had once been very beautiful. She resembled an old Michelle Pfieffer, he’d observed many times.

Her silver hair was shoulder length, parted at one side in elegant waves. She wore very light natural makeup apart from the bright red lipstick that accentuated her plump, wide lips. They were now raised up just a fraction in a light smile.

“
What was that?” Driver demanded.

“
Guess she’s not hungry,” the old woman commented dryly.

             
A guttural growl escaped between Driver’s clenched teeth. The old woman was very good at hiding her uneasiness. “She has to eat,”he grumbled.

“
Give it time. She’ll get hungry eventually.”

             
Driver grunted. The old woman watched him with the eyes of a hawk. He frowned at her and then concentrated on the screen. The girl had laid back on her bed. He could hear the tiny sobs escape between her pressed lips and gloomed. He felt completely powerless to do anything. “If she doesn’t eat something soon, I’m gonna force it down her throat myself.”

“
You and I both know that won’t be necessary,” Maria replied with a frown.

                                                                      *

Tuesday May 10
th
,  5:50 p.m. 
Surveillance Room.

             
Jaz hadn’t taken her iron pills for three days. She hadn’t eaten anything either.

             
She could barely sit up in bed. The exhaustion had gone from mild to severe and she was starting to regret not eating. Even if it was tainted with drugs, she wouldn’t have to die a horrible death.

             
What if she had a heart attack? She shivered at the thought.

             
Her fever had gone but it had left her weak. She’d have recovered from it quicker if she wasn’t so reliant on medication to get through the day.

I don’t want to die.
But she didn’t want to be someone’s pet her whole life either.

             
She started to wonder if they even knew she was anaemic. Had they figured it out yet?

All they have to do is look in my handbag.
She cursed to herself.

Why didn’t I grab it before I ran? Stupid, stupid.

             
The night before at around the same time, she had woken up to the sound of a tray scraping on the floor.

She’d sprung up in alarm from her lying position on the bed only to lock eyes with the startled face of a young boy, barely eighteen.

He watched her cautiously without blinking, as if trying to gauge what she would do. Even she was shocked by her reaction when she jumped from the bed and pounced on him. She managed to claw his pretty cheek with her nails before he pushed her back, hurled himself out the room and slammed the door shut with his foot. The sound of a lock bolting echoed through the thick door before all was silent. 

She sat, slumped against the wall in an awkward position panting heavily with adrenaline. The shock at her primal reaction and the rage she had felt, froze her in place.

The fury was simmering beneath her skin; she could feel it. As her breathing slowed and evened out, the rage faded away. But she knew it was waiting.

She didn’t catch the boy again, they made sure of that. But the food still came at regular intervals. Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. When she didn’t eat the first meal, it was removed and replaced by the second, then the second by the third. Uneaten.

She didn’t eat any of them.

They had left her an early dinner on the floor when she was asleep- which seemed to be most of the time now. She barely woke up to look at it before rolling over and drifting back to sleep again.

Even the old woman’s hard shell started to crack with concern.

             
Driver had slept in the Surveillance Room the night before, after she had attacked the food bringer. 

The Surveillance Room was right across the hall from his room, which was next to hers; separated by the thick oak door she’d kicked the tray at the first day. He wished she’d react like that again. He even wished she’d attack someone again. It would show she had some strength left in her. Today, she had barely moved an inch.

              Enough was enough.

“
I’m not gonna sit around any longer and wait for her to die. She’ll get too weak. Her body will cripple if she Changes now.”

“
She won’t now.”

“
What makes you so sure?” he questioned harshly.

             
The old woman glared at him. There were others in the room. They were watching the two discreetly. Their bickering was their only entertainment during the long hours of watching others living their lives in the village. “You’re forgetting who she is and where she came from. Her bloodline is strong and she’s from the outside. She won’t accept her true identity willingly. That will hinder her Change.”

             
Just then, a beautiful, young man with light blonde hair and freckles marched in. He had three fresh scratches on his left cheek. They looked very sore.“You sent for me?” he announced.

             
Driver nodded once, his frown fading into a lighthearted expression. “You have her meal prepared?” The young man bobbed his head in reply. “Good. I want you to go in there.”

             
The old woman observed Driver with intrigue. The young man’s ocean-blue eyes widened slightly. Driver just smiled.

“
What?
Now
?” The boy asked in a high voice.

“
Yes, now.”

“
But- begging your pardon- but she’s awake.”

“
She won’t bite,” Driver grinned teasingly.

             
Alf stared at him, not finding any amusement in the private joke. “She has sharp nails, sir.”

“
I actually think this look becomes you.”

             
Alf didn’t look so sure. Driver suppressed the urge to laugh. He enjoyed winding Alf up. He was like a little brother to him- though he was only a distant cousin.

“
Oh for goodness sake, what are you playing at Driver?” the old woman demanded.

“
I’m tired of all this hiding. She’s clearly trying to get our attention.”

“
She’s going to be a tad…
annoyed
though isn’t she?” Alf added, trying to keep his voice even but failing.

             
Maria smiled. It was her first in weeks. “Understating the obvious, I think,” she noted wryly. 

“
She’s weak,” Driver reassured the boy. “Just put the tray of food down. Let her see you, smile and walk out.”

             
Alf stared at him incredulously. “
Smile
?” he asked in disbelief.

“
Yes. Smile.”

“
She’s not a lab rat.”

             
Driver glowered at Maria. His expression said, ‘Don’t you think I know that!?’. She rolled her eyes.