Chapter 33: Drugs and Pain-Killers
Twenty-four hours and not a single bump in the road, so to speak. My wrists and ankles were completely numb to the touch as they had been tied up for days it seemed. It had been the longest time I had been left alone. Two hours and counting. My body ached from the few punches that were delivered to my ribcage and my neck was sore from the dirty, dry hands that had choked me long enough to almost make me pass out. The damage was nothing compared to most of my experiences. I probably only had one or two broken ribs, I wasn't externally bleeding, and my heart was still pumping on its own. Which was definitely a good thing.
I hadn't heard any news about Roy in forever. The last time I had been told that Roy was still alive and waiting for his own punishments. I felt something hit the bottom of my stomach, which was as alien as the outskirts of the solar system. Pity. I felt bad for Roy, and I didn't know why. He could take the pain and the interrogations, and even the threats, so why was I worried?
Roy and I were as equal as someone in our positions could get. We were both strong, physically and mentally, which came in handy in our line of business. Thinking back to our matches, the ones on the mat in the cave, I realized that we were equal. Physically. Mentally. Okay, maybe I was a little stronger in the mental section, but still. Why the hell was I worrying? I didn't even care for Roy.
But the guilt and pity stayed right where it was, agonizing me with sharp needles and silver knifes, as if attempting to carve me open and get to the soft spot of my soul. It was killing me, slowly, but still killing me.
I couldn't help but imagine Roy's state. Battered up and beaten? Or was the crew nice to the innocent one? A small bruise? Leather restraints? The images my mind created flooded like a broken dam. The thoughts, the images, the ideas were choking me. It was all my fault. Running away like a coward, making Roy feel...upset because of his simple action. I started the whole thing, and it was my duty to finish it. But I had no clue how the hell to start.
The air was dense and wet, which my skin hated as it soaked up all the salty evaporation and released it at the same time. The door opened and a cool, drier breeze flooded in. It replenished part of my strength, but it was soon gone and the door slammed shut following the clicking of the man I hated most.
"Well, well, well..." He said, his steps getting louder to indicate him getting closer. "You've survived a whole day. That's amazing. Well, for your boyfriend, that is. You, on the other hand, have survive eight years away from me, traveling the world, building up different alias' for your plan to create World War three." There was a pregnant pause, which I found slightly relieving, until he spoke again. "But it doesn't look like we're going to be able to see how you plan on surviving on this ship, since, after all, the people in Star City awaits."
"You're letting me go?" I ask, my voice cracking as a sign of not talking for hours straight. I could barely keep my eyes open, which was a living hell in itself seeing that I had trained in practically a month. I was not even getting soft, but I was getting weak. Weak and useless. And those were two of my biggest fears.
"Well, technically, yes, but only for a little while, until Belle Rev officials make the trade next month. Oh, and did I forget to tell you? The people in Star City are the only thing waiting for you. We left a few...presents behind for the one girl I love the most."
I swallowed. Shit. This wasn't good. "Go to hell." I groaned. His wrinkly face curled up into a smile and I growled under my breath.
"That's my girl. No wonder Sportsmaster's jealous of me. His daughters don't want anything to do with him. Even that Cheshire girl. But you and me. We're different. We want to see each other. We want to fight. We want to kill." He paused and smiled. My heart was pounding fiercely. I hated him. "Anyway, before I let you go, I want to give you another gift. Something to block the pain and redden your eyes a little bit. It reminds me of when you were younger. When you cried for the first time. Your eyes weren't the only thing that was red. You're cheek looked like a rip tomato. Damn, your mother can really hit, can't she?"
I practically stopped breathing at the memory. The physical pain was blocked out naturally, but the mental was hitting with a full force. I swallowed and looked back up at him.
"But, anyway, let's get to it, shall we? Can't waste anytime dumping you and Jackass out there in the forest, can we?" I knew the answer, but I didn't dare speak. Thoughts, memories, and images flooded my mind. I knew what was coming, and it was coming fast.
His hand picked up a needle which I had not seen. The liquid was clear, but I knew exactly what was inside of it. Drugs and pain killers. Or to be technically, heroin and morphine. The combination was ridiculous seeing that the two were practically the same, minus the fact that heroin was two times stronger than morphine and had a higher addiction rate. But all that I could think about was the fact that I was practically overdosing on drugs. I wasn't going to die, I knew that. Traveling across the world made me tolerate to many of those things, heroin and morphine included. The dose was high, but my body could get rid of it quicker than normal, which I didn't think of whether that was good or bad.
The needle dug into my skin, ripping the flesh slightly on the opposite side of my elbow. I could feel the drugs working as soon as they entered my body, and the symptoms gave in. I felt drowsy, my head spun and my stomach flipped. It was too much, too much drugs, too much pain. I was going through hell already and it hadn't been nearly two minutes.
In less than five minutes I couldn't see anything. My head was spinning so wildly that I couldn't see. I could feel my body go limp, and before I knew it I was gone. Unconscious. Dead to the world. Blacked out.