![]() He finally looks up, his eyes sharper, brighter, a more beautiful shade of green than they’ve ever been and my heart is beating so fast I can’t even feel it anymore. And now, to know that he’s read my most painful thoughts, my most anguished confessions-the things I wrote while in complete and utter isolation, certain that I would die in that very cell, so certain no one would ever read the things I wrote down-to know that he’s read these desperate whispers of my private mind. Just before Warner realized he could touch me. This was just before I escaped, just before Adam and I jumped out the window and ran away. He took it from me when he found that I’d hidden it in the pocket of my dress back on base. He was the last person to touch my notebook the last person to see it. And I’m wondering how it’s possible to be punched in the gut by so many fists at the same time. Then “Do you have any idea,” he says, so quietly, “how many times I’ve read this?” He lifts his hand but not his head and holds up a small, faded rectangle between 2 fingers. He doesn’t even look up as I take a step closer. His body is toned and muscular and hardly contained by his undershirt his hair is a blond mess, disheveled for what’s probably the first time in his life. His coat, his shoes, and his fancy shirt are all discarded on the ground. He’s wearing nothing but socks, a simple white T-shirt, and a pair of black slacks. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall, legs outstretched in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. The door slams shut behind me but the Warner I find inside this room is not one I recognize at all. Because he’s in my territory now, and I can always call for help if something goes wrong. ![]() Which side of himself he’ll show me today. ![]() And then I hear him telling me he loves me, feel him kissing me with such unexpected passion and desperation that I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know what I’m walking into. I see him torturing Adam almost to death. I see him as the leader of an entire sector, eager to conquer me, to use me. I see Warner as a child desperately seeking his dad’s approval. He’s the boy who shot a defecting soldier in the forehead the boy who was trained to be a cold, heartless murderer by a man he thought he could trust. He’s the child so terrorized, so psychologically tormented that he’d try to kill his own father in his sleep. He’s the person who forced me to torture a toddler against my will. To be alone in a room with Warner-to be alone with him and to not know what he might do or what he’s capable of and I’m so confused, because I don’t even know who he is anymore. “Call for us and we’ll open the door.” I’m nodding yes and sure and of course and trying to ignore the fact that I’m more nervous right now than I was meeting his father. “Just knock to let us know when you’re ready to leave,” they tell me. They nod, eager to believe I’m capable of something I know I’m not and they unlock the door. I manage a feeble smile and tell them I’ll see what I can do to sedate him. He wouldn’t even eat the food we gave him.” The antonym of excellent. He says you’re the only one he wants to talk to, and he’s only just calmed down because we told him you were on your way.” “We had to take out all the furniture,” the other guard adds, his brown eyes wide, incredulous. “He’s been completely insane since he woke up-throwing things around and trying to destroy the walls-he’s been threatening to kill all of us. “Thanks so much for coming,” one of them says to me, his long, shaggy blond hair slipping into his eyes. ![]() I nod hello in the guards’ direction and they greet me with such enthusiasm I actually wonder whether they’ve confused me with someone else. This doesn’t mean much, but it gives me a modicum of calm. There are 2 men I’ve never met before standing guard outside Warner’s door. So this situation is entirely my own fault. And now, the thought of telling anyone, of making it known to Adam, of all people, that the one person he hates most in this world-second only to his own father-is the one other person who can touch me? That Warner has already touched me, that his hands have known the shape of my body and his lips have known the taste of my mouth-never mind that it wasn’t something I actually wanted-I just can’t do it. I really, quite desperately didn’t want to bring it up. I thought maybe I wouldn’t have to bring it up. But it’s only been about 4 weeks since that day, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I really thought that perhaps I’d imagined it, just until Warner kissed me and told me he loved me and then, that’s when I knew I could no longer pretend this wasn’t happening. And I’ve said a word of this to exactly no one.
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