Shattered

Chapter 48

When will I turn to the last page of my life and read "the end"?

I woke up alone, facing a dim and cloudy sunset, covered in familiar gray sheets. The room was cold, how Chandler always kept it, and despite everything that I had gone through in this apartment, I felt a strange comfort. Hate and comfort don't seem to go together, but somehow, they did in this case. This bed had become the place I laid every night and woke up in every morning. These windows showed me the outside world and had become a view I saw every day, for hours at a time. They were constants. Consistency brought me comfort.

Chandler was a constant.

My head ached, and with the pain was an accompanying nausea. The fading light helped, allowing less strain on my eyes as I blearily blinked away tiredness. This was likely the result of a drug-induced sleep, which I concluded only lasted a few hours, enough to get back to New York before I was conscious. Why were we back though?

The energy to pursue thoughts like that was something I currently did not have, so I ignored those things and enjoyed the peace of silence and solitude. Chandler wasn't in the room, but the smell of pine and mahogany, the smell of him, surrounded me. He must have been in here recently, and went to the office or downstairs, since both the bathroom and closet were quiet.

Groaning as a lingering ray of sunlight made its way into my eyes, I turned over and hid my face in the edge of the soft pillow. It was then that I realized the scent of pine and mahogany wasn't coming from the air around, but from the pillow. I looked to the side and realized I was where Chandler usually slept, leaving my spot empty, but the covers were out of place. He always put me in my side, and while I didn't particularly care which side I was on, a bed is a bed, I found it unlike Chandler. He is a precise person, one for repetition.

When the last of the sun sank below the sky, I pulled myself from the bed, switching on the lamp. Cool air immediately hit my legs, which were bare. The shorts and top I had worn before were nowhere in sight, instead I only wore a white button-up shirt, none other than Chandler's, with nothing beneath except my underwear. I didn't like knowing I had been undressed when I was drugged, especially down to having my bra removed.

There was a long moment where I contemplated changing into something of my own that would cover far more, but there were several thoughts of warning that told me not to. The ice beneath me was incredibly thin, one wrong step and into the freezing water I would go, everything I've built following me to the depths. He changed me because he wanted to, and if I went and undid his actions, it would equal to disobeying him. The risk wasn't worth it.

I powered through the discomfort, thankful I at least had warm socks to shield me from the wooden floors, and reached for the door. Unlocked. It would be a lie if I said I wasn't almost entirely expecting it to be locked. First, I was left unrestrained, and now, the door was unlocked. This was odd, considering all I had done over the course of this unexpected day. If I asked, would he tell me his reasoning?

Maybe the punishment is coming later, I kept telling myself, refusing to be caught off guard when he finally decided to reprimand my behavior.

The office doors were locked, and after I knocked a few times, I concluded he wasn't in there. Going down stairs made no progress towards easing the throbbing headache, and instead made it worse every time I took a step. He drugged me just to take us back to New York, and to me, that seemed unnecessary. I wasn't going to make a big deal out of leaving Florida, especially after Nakoa made her attempt to run and I eagerly wanted to make mine. He could've asked me to put myself on that plane and I would have done it with no complaints, as long as Lucas stayed far away.