When we reached the end of the corridor, Ed opened a door and ushered me in. He followed and switched on the light.

A restroom.

It held a single stall. He motioned me to use it.

I went in and tried to close its door.

He blocked me. "No, this stays open, I've got orders to keep an eye on you. And I do what I'm told by Mr. Thorne. Sorry." There was no sorry in his voice nor in his leering face.

My bladder was killing me, I couldn't hold back. Pulling down my trousers, I sat.

My gaze was on the concrete floor. Sitting felt good, and relieving myself even better. Having Ed's eager eyes bore into me spoiled the occasion, though.

My arms rested on my knees. The skin around my wrists was torn from the cable ties, the cuts burning. Blood was oozing from the wounds.

"Didn't I say you'd enjoy this?"

I didn't look up at him and kept quiet.

It was just him and me. If I could strike him down, I'd be able to run, to get help.

"And, you see, I know of other things you might enjoy, too." He snickered.

A toilet brush stood in its holder beside the toilet. It was plastic, probably light. It had brownish stains on its bristly head, but it was hardly a weapon I could use to hit the guy unconscious.

I wiped myself, pulled up my jeans, left the stall, and walked to the sink, all the time avoiding his eyes. The water felt good on my hands, but it burned in the wounds on my wrists. I drank, in eager and hurried gulps, scared that he might stop me. Finally, I washed my face. And while I was doing all of this, I scanned the room for a weapon. Anything to strike Ed with.

Nothing.

"Good, I like my girls clean," he said.

I washed myself some more, stalling. The door to the corridor stood open. A broom leaned against a corner beside it.

"Enough, come!"

I turned off the tap.

He gestured towards the door.

When I reached it, I leaned against its frame. "Sorry... I'm dizzy."

The broom's solid, wooden stick was just within reach.

"You can lean on me if you want to."

I grabbed the broom, turned and swung it against the man's head. It struck him with a thud, the impact making me lose my wet grip on its handle. He yelled. 

I ran.

I was a fast runner, but my abused legs refused to obey me, their movements were sluggish.

"Stop!" Ed's footfalls filled the corridor behind me.

The elevators were some twenty yards away. I didn't have the time to wait for a cabin. But one of the doors beside them had to give access to the staircase. Which one was it?

I remembered Top Floor, where I had used the stairs. There, the door had been to the right of the elevators.

When I reached it, I pushed its handle. It was locked. A sign beside it said "electric substation".

Shit, wrong door. I turned to make for the one on the other side of the elevators.

A face appeared in my field of vision—Ed. Blood ran over his forehead, his features were contorted in sheer rage.

He swung a fist.

There were a strange, crunching sound and a flash of light, followed by an absence—a welcome absence of pain, of dread, and of urgency. Just darkness.

~~~

"What happened to her?" A man's voice, irritated.

"Tried to run, and ran into an obstacle." Another man, and a laugh.

A metallic taste filled my mouth, and my lips were numb. I was on my back, eyes closed, right wrist tied to something above me.

Pain was everywhere.

"She's alive?"

"Yep."

"Don't touch her again... She's mine."

I'm nobody's.

"You're a sociopath." A woman's voice—Theresa.

A slapping sound.

"Please be quiet." One of the men. Thierry?

I opened one of my eyes, only a fraction. Thierry and Ed were standing above me—two dark, looming figures against a fluorescent tube on the ceiling. They were looking elsewhere, probably at Theresa.

"Let her go," she said.

Thierry shook his head. "Sorry, I can't. Only for once, try to see things from my side. What would happen if I let her go? She'd run straight to the police, wouldn't she?" He looked down at me, and his eyes widened. "Oh, you're awake. Hello, Anne."

I said nothing.

"I..." he began, then he shook his head and looked at Ed. "Get them to the harbor. I want them on The Indomitable within the hour." With a nod, he turned and left my field of vision.

Ed approached me, stopping himself by stepping against my left arm. "Oops, sorry. Didn't see you there."

A gash adorned his forehead.

"See what you did?" he asked and pointed at his wound.

I huffed.

"I hope you're still alive when Mr. Thorne's done with you." He cut my tie.

~~~

Ed and his chum dragged us from the basement and ferried us up in the elevator. The lobby was empty, the windows dark with the night outside. It was way past closing hour. TCorp was deserted.

Right in front of the main entrance, a van was waiting for us, its engine idling, its headlights burning a pool of light through a faint drizzle. We all got into the rear cabin, and the vehicle started to move.

There were no windows except for a small one towards the passenger cabin. Theresa looked desolate in the wane light of the single overhead lamp.

"How are you?" she asked. There was a welt on her left cheek.

I shrugged. "And you?" My swollen lips hurt with the words. Ed must have smacked me in the mouth.

"I'll live." She grinned.

An echo of what I had said in the basement. I smiled back.

"Shut up." Ed kicked my shin.

I suppressed a wince and said nothing.

We spent the rest of the trip in silence.

When the car stopped, the driver knocked on the window.

We got out. The smell of the sea hung in the air, humid, ripe, and tangy. We stood at the foot of a pier jutting out into the water, with fat yachts moored along it. A gate carrying the number 12 closed the pier to the public.

While Ed unlocked it with a key, I looked up and down along the shore. A group of buildings was a short way off. A window was lit in one of them.

I took a breath and yelled. "Help! We—"

A hand slapped onto my mouth, stifling the sound. "Bitch, do you need another beating?" Ed turned my head towards him, his hand still on my hurting lips. The taste of blood on my tongue gained strength.

I tried to bite him, but he kept his palm out of reach and jerked my head back by my hair.

"Let's get them inside." He spat the words into my face.

I was shoved through the gate and onto the pier, towards a berth on the left. A gangway led up to a ship—The Indomitable, no doubt.

I once had been dreaming to set foot onto her deck.

Now it felt like a nightmare.

The vessel was huge. A glass-walled swimming pool was set into its stern. We passed it and reached a door. Inside, Ed's greasy chum took the lead. When I hesitated, Ed punched my back go make me move.

Jerk!

We descended a staircase. One floor down, a corridor led forward. We followed it and stopped at a ladder leading deeper into the ship's bowels.

Greasy stepped onto its rungs and climbed down.

"After you." Ed motioned us to follow.

The ladder ended in a long, narrow room, with metal doors on both sides. Ed pulled the handle of one of them, and it swung open. "Ladies, welcome to your cabin."

A single, sad light bulb behind a metal grid failed to properly illuminate a small hold. Its ceiling was too low to stand upright. One of its walls was curved. Wooden crates stood against the one opposite. Stagnant puddles on the floor saturated the air with the rotten smell of things decaying.

Ed pushed me, and I fell into the fetid water. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I got to my knees and glowered at him. 

Theresa hit the water beside me. 

With a metallic clang, the door closed behind her, and the light went out.

Darkness held us once more. I was sick of it. But at least we weren't tied this time.

I groped through the dark, searched for the crates, and found one. "Come, we can sit here."

I felt Theresa's fingers on my back. She moved beside me, and we both sat.

She placed her hand on my leg, found mine, and squeezed it. "I'm, sorry. You don't deserve this."

"It's me who's to blame." I clasped her hand firmly. "It was my idea to walk into TCorp. My stupid... silly... foolish idea." I spat the words into the stale air, imagining them surrounded by drops of blood from my destroyed lips.

"You just tried to help me."

I remembered the welt running across her cheek. "Did Thierry hit you?"

"Yes. I told him he's a fucking sociopath."

"I heard that. You had a point there."

"You see... he's two years older than me. When we were kids, we quarreled a lot, and he beat me often until I was about ten years old. Then, one day ma caught him hitting me. She was livid, and she dragged him away.... Don't know what happened then, what she did to him. But after that, he never hit me again. Never. He shouted at me, sometimes, cursed me, insulted me, but he never laid his hands on me... Even when I smacked him. It was strange... unnatural. As if there was something broken inside of him."

The walls of our cell shuddered, then a low, continuous rumble made them vibrate softly. The engines of the ship had come to life, gobbling up diesel to push us out to sea, away from the shore—away from civilization.

I squeezed Theresa's hand between mine.

I should be afraid now. Yet I just sat there, drained, my back against the hard wall, whose cold contrasted the warmth of the woman at my side. My battered body hurt, I was thirsty, and a headache pulsed with the beat of my heart and the vibes of the engine.

Exhaustion washed over me, took hold of me, and carried me away.