Monochrome (30 page)

*

Abigail was jolted awake by the sound of the metal cell door squealing open. She sat up quickly, but fell back down in pain. Ishmael sat up on the side of the cot, blocking her with his body. She noticed his hair was no longer multi-colored and was, again, shoulder length.

He was wearing grey sweats and no shirt. He must’ve wanted to be comfortable, too. Only, he slept more casually. His back was covered with inky script, just like the rest of his torso. His shoulders and arms were tense as their morning visitor greeted them.

“Abigail! Nice to see you, again,” Eric intoned as he closed and locked the metal door behind him.

Ishmael stood. “We gave our payments, Eric. That was the deal. You get the payments and we go.”

Eric expertly flipped his closed knife in his hand. Abigail still held the memory of Eric receiving the knife from his father. It didn’t make the knife any less deadly. On the contrary, she was only more aware of how long he’d owned it and how skilled he was with it.

Eric leaned against the wall. “You’ll be released today. That was the agreement. Only, I have some business with your girlfriend first.”

Ishmael mouthed, “Does he know?” She shook her head. She was sure the boss didn’t want him to know she once housed his memories.

Ishmael glared at Eric. “So what do you want?”

Eric pointed his knife at Ishmael. “I didn’t say my business was with you. Don’t be so nosy. The boss gave me permission to check in with Abigail. Something she said or did in his audience chambers upset him. He said I’m to find a proper way to scold her. Sounds to me like your friend needs a good spanking.”

He paused when Ishmael pushed more closely against Abigail, hatred contorting his handsome face, the muscles in his arms and back tensing.

“Did you know there are cameras in here?” Eric made a sweeping motion of the room. Ishmael said nothing, but suspicion shadowed his face. Abigail was confused as to why he brought it up.

Eric nodded. “Yep, one in the bathroom and one out here facing the cot. For security, you see. It was a good night to be on camera duty. My pleasure.”

Abigail’s face grew red. She should’ve guessed. Ishmael’s black eyes narrowed.

Eric continued, “No sound. That’s unfortunate. Couldn’t tell what you whispered to her when she was brought in, or what she said when she woke up. I’m sure it was all very sweet. Did you tell her you didn’t look away when you saw her naked? Not that I blame you. I didn’t either.”

Ishmael’s cheeks colored. “Fuck off.”

“I can’t believe what an impotent jackass you’ve turned out to be, Ishmael. Really. A beautiful, naked woman in your room and you stand around gawking like a dipshit.”

Ishmael was visibly shaking. “I don’t take advantage of hurting women.”

Eric shrugged. “Your loss. There are a couple recruits standing outside the door. They’re going to take you to the next cell over. Like I said, I have business with Abigail. When I’ve concluded our business, you’re both free to go. We won’t bother you again unless you fail to do your duties.”

Eric moved towards her and Ishmael lunged at him. Eric was ready for the retaliation. He’d been goading him into a fight. His knife was ready when Ishmael met him. He slashed Ishmael across his thigh, opening a wound. Ishmael stumbled and cursed in pain.

Abigail screamed and ran at Eric. He whirred around and hit her in the stomach with the back of his fist. Her stomach lurched, as she clutched her middle, going to her knees. Ishmael sprang to his feet and punched Eric in the kidney. He grunted and bent forward, grasping his side, keeping a firm grip on his knife.

Ishmael tried to circumvent Eric to get back to Abigail, but Eric sprung at him and slashed him across the hand. Ishmael stared as scarlet blood dropped from his wound to the floor, paled, and fell to his knees. “Shit.”

Abigail stood, breathing heavily, but Eric made it to Ishmael first. “Stay where you are or I will cut his throat.” He pulled Ishmael’s hair back and put the knife to his throat.

Ishmael pleaded with his eyes for her to run towards the door, but she knew the recruits would be waiting for her. “Let the guards take him. Don’t hurt him, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That sounds nice.” He let go of Ishmael’s hair and kicked him in the back. Ishmael fell to the floor, and Eric stepped on his back. Ishmael groaned.

Eric motioned to the door. “Push the red speaker button by the door.” Abigail did as he told her.

Eric spoke loudly from his position in the middle of the room. “Take Ishmael to the next cell over. I’ll call when I’m finished here.”

Two recruits opened the door, neither of them familiar to Abigail. They lifted Ishmael. He kicked and flung himself at Eric, even though his wounds were deep and bleeding. “Eric, if you touch her, I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you!” They took Ishmael out, screaming. Abigail didn’t watch.

Eric sat on the cot and patted it. “Come here.” He motioned to her with his knife. She stood, staring at the door, still able to hear Ishmael’s frantic screams.

Eric patted the cot again. “Abigail, I can tell the recruits to kill Ishmael and they will. I believe the bargain was I wouldn’t harm him and you’d be a willing girl. From this cell, you’ll hear him scream as he dies, you know?” He sounded as though the prospect of Ishmael’s screams would bring him even more pleasure than her body.

She felt hatred settle over her as she walked to the cot and sat. “How do I know you won’t hurt him or you’ll let us go if I do what you say?”

Eric shrugged. “Don’t know. But you can be sure I will have him killed if you don’t. I won’t hesitate.”

He ran his hand down her arm. She shivered. He scooted as close to her as space allowed and ran his hand up and down her leg. “Listen, Abigail, I don’t want to hurt you or fight you, okay? I have no problem doing so, but I don’t want to. It’s the opposite, really. I watched you last night. I played it over and over again.” Abigail’s stomach clenched around his words. “You made me feel amazing last night.”

His hand stopped at the crotch of her pants, and he whispered the next sentence in her ear, “I want to make you feel good, too.”

Abigail felt like throwing up, and her face must’ve shown her revulsion. Eric moved her hair behind her neck with his knife, showing Abigail the blade. She wouldn’t fight anyway. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt Ishmael. He knew that.

Eric bit the top of her ear and kissed her neck. Abigail backed away from him. Her body was revolted. Eric grabbed her from behind her neck and gently moved her towards him.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. She did as he said.

He kissed her neck again and she gagged. Eric pinched her jaw between his thumb and finger. “You’re going to have to be more cooperative, Abigail. I’m serious. I have an idea. Close your eyes again.”

She clenched them shut, tears stinging her throat.

“Good. Now think of Ishmael.” Her eyes flew open. Eric laughed his sticky laugh. “No. Don’t think of what I’ll do to Ishmael if you don’t be good. Come on, close them again.” She closed her eyes, if only to keep the tears inside.

Eric’s hand went underneath her shirt. “Good girl. Keep them closed. Don’t think of me as me. I know you want him. I see how you are with him. I saw how you clung to him in your sleep. I don’t know why he does it for you. After last night, I’m not even sure he’s into women, but I’m gracious. Think of him.”

He slid his hand under her bra, and kissed her neck again. “Just act like you would for him. You’d be relaxed. You’d be eager. You’d be wet.”

Eric pushed Abigail down onto the cot and took off her shirt and cardigan. She clenched her eyes shut so tightly it hurt. She didn’t want to see him rape her. She didn’t want any image of this to haunt her future nightmares.

Eric took off her bra, kissing and fondling her breasts so eagerly it stung. He ran the tip of his knife over her breasts, letting it catch her once in a while. She sucked in painfully.

He noticed and pretended to soothe her. “Sorry about that. I can’t help myself. A little roughness makes it more fun. Don’t you think?”

Abigail didn’t answer him. She closed her mind and ears to him. She imagined wiping her mind clear, running into nothingness. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of controlling her thoughts. He was a worse kind of creep than the Traders. At least they admitted what they were to the world. He intended to rape her, and pretend she wanted it. He’d claim it wasn’t rape because she hadn’t fought it.

Bile stung her throat. She was afraid she might vomit and drive him to anger. She should give his memories to Ishmael, who’d never give them back. She hated the sick piece of shit mumbling disgustingly over her unwilling, shuddering body. Suddenly, an image of the boy Eric came to her mind. At first she pushed it away as sentimental nonsense, but then inspiration hit.

Why didn’t she think of it before? She wasn’t sure it would work, but she’d try anything. She worked to calm her body. Eric felt her relax and coaxed her, “That’s right, baby. Relax. You like that, huh?” She heard him take off his pants, and her concentration shattered.

She cursed herself and tried to erase his physical self, recreate the memory of him. Eric was kissing her down her abdomen and eagerly pulling her sweats and underwear down, which made it very challenging to concentrate on her task. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to end him.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he moaned.

She pushed his loathsome words out of her mind, and thought hard about younger Eric, not the piece of shit who was kissing her thighs, asking her to tell him what she wanted. She wanted him to die or to suffer like she was suffering.

The memory she was searching for came to her just in time. She put both hands on his head, which he, at first, took as encouragement. He hummed in the back of his throat, and pulled her underwear down with his teeth. But she opened her eyes just in time to see victory fade into confusion, then blankness.

His memory flew out of her fingertips and into his head. The memory of his father giving him his knife was playing behind his clenched eyelids. His grip on her hips loosened, his body went limp and he fell asleep on top of her. She hadn’t thought it would work so quickly or so well. She remembered Geoff falling gradually to sleep when she gave him a memory and she fell asleep for a very long time after getting memories transferred to her.

It seemed when the memory was powerful, and your own, it was even faster and more potent. She supposed the transfer directly to his head might have something to do with it, as well. She carefully rolled Eric’s half undressed body off of her. His weight was pinning her legs to the cot.

His height made him an oppressive weight, but she didn’t want to push too forcefully. She needed him to stay asleep. She moved out from underneath him an inch at a time, stood, pulled her underwear and sweats back up, and dressed in her scattered clothing. Her entire body was trembling. Her hands fumbled as she pulled her cardigan over her arms.

Abigail watched the sleeping Eric and felt her muscles tense. It would be so easy to kill him as he slept, slit his throat. She walked over to his sleeping body and noticed he clung to his knife in his sleep.

She felt hatred settle on her like a warm blanket. She thought about taking his knife and ridding the world of his sickness. Her body tingled and her hands itched to hold the blade to his throat, and press down through the thick but pliant layers of skin, draining his life in a scarlet pool. But she shook her head violently, ridding herself of the thoughts of murder like a dog shakes water from his fur.

That wasn’t who she was. It was hard to remember much about who Abigail Bennet was, but she knew she wasn’t a murderer. She already felt so terribly for killing the man who attacked her before, not for his death, maybe, but for the act of killing. She may hate their actions, but she felt it wasn’t her job to place a life or death sentence on anyone. Her anger subsided enough for her to focus on her next move.

She still needed to get Ishmael. That was the priority. Eric was lying on the keys, so she shoved him over. He stirred and his eyes started fluttering. She panicked, pulled the keys out of his pocket and smacked a hand to his forehead, all the pent-up fury behind the smack. His head bounced loudly against the tiles, which actually woke him from his stupor, rather than knocking him out. She closed her eyes and thought of his next memory—his first sexual experience, with a small, green-haired, mean-spirited girl, and watched it fall from her hand into his head.

Eric’s head slumped back down on the tiles, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shut tight. She ran to the door and opened it a crack. The recruits, who were supposed to be monitoring the door, were nowhere in sight. She thought she knew where they might be instead.
Sick bastards
. That didn’t give her much time.

She didn’t know where they went to watch the cell cameras, but she was eighty percent positive they were watching Ishmael’s cell and they saw her disable Eric.
At least they didn’t get the show they were hoping for.
She thought with great satisfaction.

Abigail stepped out into the hall, locked Ishmael’s cell behind her, and searched for the nearest cell. They were in a basement. There were only five cells and the closest was to the left. She tried the key and almost cheered in relief. The lock clicked and the door swung open.

But what greeted her was not as reassuring. Ishmael was lying face down on a cot. His arms were limp on either side of him. She went to him and whispered his name. He didn’t seem to hear her, so she shook him gently.

He sprang up and sent her sprawling backwards. His face was filled with so much hate and desperation he frightened her. He sported a split lip and his forehead was bleeding. His black eyes were red-rimmed and defeated. He still bled heavily from the cuts that Eric gave him, and his right arm hung painfully at his side.

When he recognized who shook him, his face changed from hatred to confusion. His shook his head in confusion, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He’d obviously fought the guards and was knocked over the head for his trouble.