Renegade

My body aches and is just as worn out as I feel mentally. I remain on the floor where I was dropped for what feels like hours ago. I dare not move a fraction of inch in fear of feeling any type of pain. My head rings with a million dreadful thoughts distracting me from the calculations I'm trying to accomplish.

Nine days.

Nine days I've been woken in the middle of the night. Nine days I've been dragged down the long, colourless hallway. Nine days I've been tossed into that godforsaken room. Nine days, Casandra has strut by me with confidence. Nine days she has found some way of making me feel less than human. Nine days I've been tortured. But nine days is nothing compared to twenty-one.

I bury the thoughts of Logan being stuck with her for twenty-one days straight deep within my tumbling mind. He wouldn't want me to dwell on that. He would want me to survive, find a way out like he did, or at least keep some ounce of hope while he finds a way to get me out of this mess.

I can't be sure what time it is, but Casandra's workaholics stalk around like clockwork. They drop off bread and a cup of water three times a day. They pull me from my confined space once a day to be carried into that dreaded room where I spend most of the day with Casandra. Once I'm thrown back into my room, the person in the room adjacent to mine is taken out. I never know when they're in their room and when they're not. I never hear movement or noise, not since my first day.

I hear screams of agony echoing from the hallway. I slam my hands against my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. I try to distract myself with memories which eventually drown out the horrible noise erupting from down the hall, but nothing stands out.

"What are you doing?" I hear a voice talking over the screaming. I open my eyes and stare at a pair of feet dangling down from the bed. I look up and Logan is leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees. He shoves a cigarette in his mouth and lights it up. "Get off the floor. You're better than that." He puffs out some smoke and pats next to him. I slowly lift myself up, trying to avoid any kind of pain I might feel along the way. "You look like hell, babe." I gently place myself next to him, nodding in agreement.

"What am I going to do?" I ask feeling tears form in my eyes.

"What are you going to do?" He shifts his body so he's facing me. "You are going to pull yourself together. You are strong. That bitch doesn't have a thing on you. She does what she does because she's scared of you. She wants you to feel inferior and it's working. Just look at you," he gestures with his hand, "she's getting to you. She's in your head and you let her in. Kick her out!" I shake my head.

"I can't do this." I feel anxiety flowing through my body.

"Yes you can. You're stronger and smarter than her."

"How did you do it? How did you make through twenty-one days?" He gets up and paces around the room for a few seconds before leaning against the wall.

"I beat her at her own game." He smirks extinguishing his cigarette on his arm.

The door to the room opens as a tray of bread and water is pushed inside. I look back and Logan is gone. I pound my hands onto my forehead and lie down. If I get out of here, I'm not going to have any sanity left.