ROOM 7
Chapter Sixty-Two: The Scars
---
The hospital room was quiet when Jay opened her eyes.
White ceiling. White walls. White sheets. The machines beeped in steady rhythm. The city hummed outside the window. Keifer was beside her, his head on the bed, his hand in hers. He was sleeping. His face was tired. His shoulders were tight. He looked like he hadn't moved in days.
She watched him breathe. The rise and fall of his chest. The way his fingers curled around hers even in sleep. The way he held on like he was afraid she'd disappear.
She didn't move. She didn't want to wake him. She wanted to remember this. The weight of his hand. The warmth of his skin. The way he stayed even when everything fell apart.
His eyes opened. He looked at her. His face shifted—tired to alert, fear to relief, darkness to light.
"Jay."
"Keifer."
He sat up. His hand went to her face. His fingers traced her cheekbone. "How are you feeling?"
She covered his hand with hers. "Like I was tied up in a warehouse for three days."
He almost smiled. Almost. "You're still you."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm still me."
He kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes.
---
Part One: The Questions
The doctors came. They checked her vitals. Her wrists. Her ankles. Her throat. They asked questions. She answered. Short. Flat. The words felt like stones in her mouth.
"Your wrists are badly bruised. The ropes caused deep tissue damage. You'll need physical therapy."
She nodded.
"Your throat is raw. The cloth caused abrasions. You'll need to rest your voice."
She nodded.
"You're severely dehydrated and malnourished. We're keeping you on IV fluids for another day."
She nodded.
Keifer watched her. His face was calm. His hands were fists.
When the doctors left, he stood by the window. His back was to her. His shoulders were tight.
"Keifer."
He turned. His eyes were dark. "What did he do to you?"
She looked at her bandaged wrists. At the bruises on her arms. At the marks that would take weeks to fade.
"Keifer—"
"I need to know." His voice was low. Steady. "I need to know what he did."
She looked at his face. At the pain behind his eyes. At the fury he was trying to hide.
"Sit down," she said.
He sat in the chair beside her bed. His hands were in his lap. His eyes were on her face.
She took a breath. Let it out. Started talking.
---
Part Two: The First Day
"The first day," she said, "I woke up on the floor. Concrete. Cold. My hands were tied behind my back. My ankles were bound. There was a cloth in my mouth."
Keifer's jaw tightened.
"I didn't know where I was. It was dark. There was a window high up on the wall, but it was covered in bars. The only light came from under the door."
She looked at her hands. At the bandages. At the memory of the ropes cutting into her skin.
"Yuri came in after a few hours. I don't know how many. Time didn't make sense in there."
She paused. Swallowed.
"He knelt in front of me. Took the cloth out of my mouth. I asked him what he was doing. He didn't answer."
Keifer's hands curled into fists.
"I asked him why. He said—" She stopped.
Keifer waited.
"He said he couldn't let me go. He said if he let me go, I'd go back to you. And he'd lose me forever."
Keifer's voice was barely a whisper. "He already lost you."
She nodded. "I told him that. He didn't listen."
She looked at the ceiling. At the white tiles. At the light that was too bright.
"He left me there. On the floor. Tied up. Alone. He came back a few hours later with water and bread. I didn't drink. I didn't eat."
Keifer's jaw was tight. "Jay—"
"I couldn't. Every time I looked at the water, I saw his face. Every time I looked at the bread, I saw his hands. I couldn't—" She stopped.
He took her hand. Squeezed. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." She looked at him. "I need to."
He nodded. Held her hand. Didn't let go.
---
Part Three: The Second Day
"The second day," she said, "he came back in the morning. He untied my hands. He said he wanted me to eat."
She looked at her wrists. At the bandages. At the memory of the ropes being loosened.
"I tried to run. I made it to the door before he caught me."
Keifer's grip tightened.
"He pinned me against the wall. His hands were on my shoulders. His face was inches from mine."
She closed her eyes. Saw his face. The emptiness behind his eyes.
"He said, 'Don't make this harder than it has to be.'"
She opened her eyes. Looked at Keifer. At the man who had never hurt her. The man who had always protected her.
"I stopped fighting after that."
Keifer's voice cracked. "Jay—"
"I wasn't scared of him. I was scared of what he might do if I kept fighting. I didn't know how far he was willing to go."
She looked at the window. At the city beyond. At the world that had kept moving while she was trapped.
"He tied my hands again. Tighter this time. The ropes cut into my skin. I could feel the blood dripping down my arms."
Keifer stood up. Walked to the window. His back was to her.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He turned. His face was wet. "Don't apologize."
She watched him. Watched him try to control his breathing. Watched him try to hold himself together.
"He didn't hit me," she said. "He didn't—" She stopped.
Keifer walked back to the bed. Knelt beside her. His face was level with hers. "What did he do?"
She touched his face. "He talked."
Keifer blinked. "Talked?"
"He talked about the first time he saw me. About the way I laughed. About the way I threw things at him. About the way I never gave up."
She pulled her hand back. Looked at the ceiling.
"He talked about how much he loved me. How much he wanted me. How much it hurt when I chose you."
Keifer's voice was low. "He didn't love you."
She shook her head. "I know."
"He wanted to own you."
She looked at him. "I know."
They sat in silence. The machines beeped. The city hummed. The world kept moving.
---
Part Four: The Third Day
"The third day," she said, "he didn't come."
Keifer looked at her. "What?"
"The door didn't open. The light didn't turn on. I was alone. All day. All night."
She looked at her bandaged wrists. At the bruises that were already fading.
"I thought he'd left me there. I thought he'd given up. I thought—" She stopped.
Keifer waited.
"I thought I was going to die there. Alone. In the dark. And no one would find me."
Keifer pulled her into his arms. His face was in her hair. His voice was broken.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She held him. "You found me."
He held her tighter. "I found you."
She closed her eyes. His heartbeat was under her ear. His hand was in her hair. The machines beeped. The city hummed.
She was safe. She was home.
---
Part Five: The Aftermath
The doctors released her the next day.
Keifer drove her home. The apartment was the same. The shark was on the couch. Bruce was beside it. The coffee cups were on the table. The blankets were on the floor.
She walked to the couch. Sat down. Picked up the shark. Held it.
Keifer sat beside her. His arm went around her. Her head went on his shoulder.
"He's gone," she said.
Keifer nodded. "He's gone."
"The police are looking for him."
"They'll find him."
She looked at the shark. At the stitching. At the years of love in its worn fabric.
"I'm not afraid of him," she said.
Keifer looked at her. "I know."
She touched his face. "I'm afraid of losing you."
He covered her hand with his. "You're not going to lose me."
She leaned into him. His chest was warm. His arm was steady. The apartment was quiet.
"Keifer."
"Yeah."
"I love you."
He kissed her forehead. "I love you too."
She closed her eyes. His heartbeat was under her ear. His hand was in her hair. The shark was in her lap.
She was safe. She was home.
She was finally home.
---
End of Chapter Sixty-Two