At least I only had to endure the sight of one of them… for now.
I was now at the end of my third week of recovery, and the pain in my jaw was finally starting to fade, or maybe I was so doped on painkillers I didn’t notice it anymore. Sid said it was healing well, and that I’d be able to have the wiring removed in a week or so. I couldn’t wait to get the fucking thing off. Not being able to open my mouth or speak made things even harder than they already were. I could tell Darren was enjoying the silence, even though I didn’t have shit to say to him anyway.
Thankfully, since my panic attack the last time I’d seen him, he stayed away most of the time. Sid felt it would help speed up my recovery if I was less stressed, and seeing Darren always pissed me off and stressed me out. Surprisingly, Darren had agreed, but he still managed to get his fill of me at night when I was asleep. Ginsby would tell me if he was on the island; he’d sit by my side for hours, watching over me as I slept my pain away. She thought it was sweet, but I knew it was anything but. Sometimes, I could still feel his presence the following morning—smell his cologne—and it often chilled me to the bone knowing he was there and I was helpless.
Apparently, Darren still had a lot going on back home from all the damage I managed to cause, plus his usual business. A single word hadn’t been uttered about the status of my family, nor the outcome of my “funeral,” and in a way, I was glad. If something had happened, I didn’t want to know. I wouldn’t be able to change it, and it would only set my recovery back by weeks. I figured if Darren had done something, he would have told me to ensure my continued obedience…or to simply torture me. But still, the uncertainty about it made me nervous because eventually, I would find out, and I couldn’t do shit about it. After all, Darren had said he was a man of his word.
I realized now that I could never really hurt Darren. Not physically, in the way I wanted. After what he did to me in that jail cell after escaping him, it was obvious to me he had been holding back so much; I was just too proud to see it. I was stupid if I thought I could withstand his physicality. It’s not like it would ever be difficult for Darren to subdue a 120-pound girl, now technically 110.
I was so sure of myself. So sure I could handle him, but I was wrong, and now, I was paying for it.
For some reason, I didn’t expect him to hurt me so badly, but thinking about it now, I realized the pain he inflicted on me wasn’t what constituted my punishment; it was my recovery. It was taking away my skillset and replacing it with discernable vulnerability. My skills were useless now that my body was broken. And that was Darren’s message to me: “You may have skills, but I can easily take them away.” Fucking asshole. I’d be lucky if I could complete a butterfly kick by the end of the year.
My vulnerability was terrifying. I couldn’t defend myself for shit, and it was the worst feeling in the world. If something happened, I was useless, and in a situation where you’re constantly threatened, and your guard is always up, it really is the worst feeling in the world. I hated being left in such a weakened state, left to depend on others to take care of me. Every time I tried to do something on my own, Hank, my new shadow and bodyguard, would rush over and stop me. Everything I did required assistance, whether I needed it or not.
I sat in the cushioned reading nook of my medical suite and leaned against the large bay window. My tablet in my lap, I was listening to calming music and failing miserably at reading my book. Nurse Ginsby was preparing another bowl of chicken broth for me now that it was lunchtime. I had gotten so fed up with the smoothies, but it was all I could eat until my mouth was unwired. I had lost nearly ten pounds from my new liquid diet, losing my muscle tone along with it