Beg Harder by Artemis Dianne (new reading .TXT) 📗

19

BABY

                    

The notion that I am being watched has fully taken over my mind, driving me insane. This is much worse than being in Charles's clutches; I'm constantly afraid that Charles or his men will come for me. The pressure is never-ending.

 

I can't sleep. I can't eat properly. I stay in the tub and stare blankly on the wall.

 

If not on the wall I stare most of the time at the Nanogex IV bag, just sitting on top of an old table with no chairs that came with the house. 

The hospital nurse had this in a bag for me before I left. I was informed that I was clutching it tight when someone found me.

I close my eyes and pray for a single tear. "Come on, cry, get it out," I yell at myself. I can't even weep, despite my best efforts; not a single tear has fallen from my eyes.

I'm not sure what's going on with me, but the way I'm acting is clearly a condition of shock, or am I suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder? Whatever the case may be, it must be managed. It's something I've had to do more for. I tried to resist it, but my head had become even more twisted.

No one will ever believe what Charles had done to me as there were no scars but my mind remembers every single thing he has done to my body. It's etched in my brain forever.

I last recall disengaging those mechanical insects before waking up in a public hospital. Doctors and authorities were questioning me, but I knew better than to answer, so I lied and told them I couldn't remember anything. 

I know enough about having a brain concussion, the result and everything didn't support my claim. However, the physician who was in charge of seeing me turned a blind eye. I knew right away that she is under Charles's payroll. 

Who knows, who else is watching me. No one can be trusted.

Before I checked myself out of the hospital, I looked at my bank account and all the money I wired Charles to save Astor's life was back. Did Charles really keep his word about letting me go? I made my way back to the cabin. 

My old truck is even parked outside. Everything is where I left it. Charles had someone take care of the rent and sent the money for an additional two months; maybe he had intended to keep me for that long and had changed his mind, or was it because I genuinely defeated him at his game?
 

I made the decision to leave everything the moment I walked into the shower, my breath caught in my throat as I remembered vivid memories of how it all began. I just grabbed my bag, dashed outside, and sped away from this location in my vehicle.

                    

I even abandoned my pickup and retrieved one of the automobiles I'd stashed away in an airport parking lot. Fortunately, I usually kept a bag with a wig and other disguised items on hand. 

It's been three weeks since I woke up and found myself in a public hospital.

I've already moved into my new beachfront cottage. I looked for three days to check whether the house had been bugged with surveillance equipment, but I couldn't find anything. 

On my fifth day, I made sure to stock up on food so that I wouldn't have to go out as much. I was tempted to get a new phone, but I knew it could be hacked and used to track me in an instant because they have everything they need.

I'm very aware that the cabin is empty of everything. Except for bedding with sheets, food, and a few pieces of clothes, I haven't had the energy to shop for anything for the new home. I'm constantly concerned that having everything in place will be for nothing if I'm kidnapped once again.

One morning, I just woke up and finally came to my senses that even with all of these precautions, I knew I wouldn't be able to hide from the technology Charles possesses. It is so intelligent that the system could find even a little mouse if he wanted to. 

I look outside the window and It's what I've always wanted and waited for two years, and now that I'm here, my mind won't let me leave the house. My brain wouldn't let me start over. My stomach grumbled and I made my way towards the shabby fridge which came with the house also.

There's only a little food stock left in the fridge. I'm gonna have to find the will to get out. I'm on my bed, lying under the cover just breathing and waiting for something when all of sudden I thought of the wine. It surprised me with how good it tasted.

                    

Just like that, the will to get up has come. I've decided to be an alcoholic. It's the only rational thing that comes to mind. I got up quickly, put on whatever I had laying around as I don't really have much clothing yet, took the car keys and drove off.

‍​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‍