Vivian's POV:

An invasion of privacy. That's what this is. 

Sure the right to preserve the mystery of our naked image has been restricted by these perverted animals, but I'd like to obtain what little decency remains of myself. Not everyone has to see me naked! I yell in thought, wishing he'd exit the same way he entered.

He catches my shocked expression before I'm able to hide it causing a small smile to play on his lips. Like a predator pouncing their prey, his eyes hint at victory. Unless it's the frightened scream which escaped me that seems to be giving him some sort of satisfaction.

The asshole.

"W-what are you doing here?" I stutter unwillingly, finding his towering image rather intimating.

My arms curl around my legs, pulling them closer to my chest. A feeble attempt to cover up what I'm able to but it's better than sitting like some frozen fool. Thankfully the glass has fogged up quite a bit, leaving a blurry vision between the two of us.

"Get out. There are things which need to be discussed," he demands. His tone sends my heart beating ten folds faster as my gut warns that no good can come from this. I watch as he steps out, leaving me to my own.

"But I can't," I yell out, wiping the water from my face, "I can't walk on my own."

Surely he's aware of my state regarding recent predicaments and traumatic experiences. It's been jotted in my 'Triple E' file after all. I listen for a response but none is granted. For a vocal man, his silence sure speaks volumes. Seeking no further harm to come my way, I heave a sigh and tediously begin to unfold myself in an attempt to stand up. 

"Stop! Let me help you," a voice cries out.

I look up only to see Peggy's worrisome face as she drops items to the ground and yanks at the shower door. She instructs me to sit back down in order to rinse the conditioner from my hair. Once she's done, she puts my hair back up into a bun and grabs hold of the towel. Turning off the taps she wraps the towel around me before aiding to my needs. 

"Is Marcus still here?" I question, holding onto the handbasin for support, full well knowing the answer but hoping to be wrong. As fierce as I portray myself to be in front of him, he somehow manages to scare the life out of me.

"Unfortunately," she whispers as she bends to pick my pj's from the ground. 

It takes everything in me not to sigh with despair. His presence alone creates a nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach and no amount of controlled breathing can take it away.

"Arms up. Let's get you dressed," she continues, her voice louder this time.

Once I'm dressed, I turn to the basin to brush my plague-infested teeth. Even though the steaming hot shower helped in soothing my aching muscles, my legs still tremble with each step. It's rather humiliating to be so dependant on someone they're required to help with a simple task such as brushing teeth. I spit, rinse, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. All the while Peggy holds me steady. 

"Let's go," she announces. 

I turn around while holding onto her only to come to a complete stop.

Shit. My bladder's about to pop.

Why didn't you go in the shower?... Jess questions.

 Because I didn't need to at the time, Jess!

Deciding against further humiliation of having Peggy assist me to sit and get up from the toilet, I clench my thighs together and continue on our short journey. The pressuring feeling of a filled bladder is bound to disappear at some point, right? Right. 

I'm a big girl. I got this.

Looking straight ahead, I can see Marcus through the glass panel door leaning against the dresser. I begin to feel a strange movement in my legs and watch in horror as the pee-pee dance slowly overtakes me against my will. 

"I need to pee!" I cry out, the pressure becoming unbearable.

Way to avoid humiliation, I mentally chide.

Peggy gives a questioning look and it's at this very moment I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Her lips part to say something but she withdraws the idea and helps me instead. An awkward silence grows between the two of us as I sit and allow the stream to flow. A cringe-worthy minute, yet there's no denying the relief it brings.

"You're aware that you're only wasting time?" she speaks up and I snap my eyes open.

They were closed?

"Marcus is an extremely impatient man and I advise you not to keep him waiting any longer than you already have."

I'm quick to realize she believes I'm purposely prolonging this ordeal. Which, now that I think about it, doesn't sound too bad of an idea. Perhaps it will force him to leave. But that's a longshot and knowing Marcus, would only result in punishment. 

"Sorry, it completely slipped my mind that he's waiting for me," I lie. 

It slips out, smooth and easy like melted butter running down toast. It rolls off the tongue so carelessly, without much thought given. The simplicity of the act accompanying no guilt, rather a safety measure to get me out of a sticky situation. The sinful beauty of a white lie. Poetic.

Peggy being oblivious to my dishonesty gives a short understanding nod, then helps me to my feet once I'm done wiping myself clean. I flush, wash my hands, dry them and proceed to enter my bedroom with Peggy at my side. 

I notice the slight rotation of the camera in the corner of the room and know that he is watching me. The stalker.

Throughout our humdrum walk, Marcus remains completely silent, fixed as if turned to stone. Staring intently at his watch the way one does at a microwave once it hits the 3-second countdown. He's deliberately ignoring me. A childish act. Yet, one not out of place.

I quickly climb into bed, the scent of fresh linen somewhat calming my nerves. 

"35 Minutes," he declares. 

His hands now neatly folded in front of him. I stare back bewildered, unsure of what to make of the time given.

"35 minutes of my day wasted standing in this singular spot waiting on you." He adjusts his watch, his eyes not leaving mine. "35 minutes which you'll pay for dearly."

"Sir, she-"

"Leave."

Peggy swallows the rest of her words. Her features grow with regret before she turns and exits the room. 

I look to the empty space once occupied a mere few seconds ago and it suddenly dawns on me that the broken lamp, shattered light bulb, and blood are all gone. They really do have ninja's working for them and a swift clean-up crew at that. 

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?" I turn my head back towards him. Wondering if it'll be appropriate to ask him whether or not he's going to take forever to get to the point of his visit.

No sarcasm Vivian, I remind myself. Mystery man's request to stay clear from trouble rings loud in my head and for once I decide not to spit fire. There's no reason to get caught up in my own flames.

"I'm sorry for making you wait,"... You unsympathetic cyborg.

Don't! 

It takes everything in me not to follow up with a sarcastic remark as I mentally throw up at the apology, wishing to retract it. But, self-control is key, even though this discussion has been set out to test mine.

"I can't quite function on my own at the moment. It's why Peggy has been helping me." I explain, swallowing my pride and accepting his authoritative position.

"I've read your file. I'm aware of this. It's why I'm here."

My brows knit together with confusion as I stare at him questionably. If he's here solely to taunt me like some perverse child he has another thing coming his way. 

I want no part of his game.

"You've become more problematic than anticipated," he continues, his statement grabbing my full attention, " One of my men has been killed because of you. Two law enforcers are dead because of you. There's a puncture in production because of you. All which could have been rectified once selling you at the highest bidder." 

My voice hitch in the back of my throat, a reaction which doesn't go unnoticed by Marcus. "Surely you weren't under the impression you'll be here forever?" he questions.

I shake my head. Words failing to form in my mouth.

"Good... Yet, to make matters worse, you've managed to become a defect. One that's not fit for business. Battered and bruised, worthless, just another mouth to feed. The costs and resources needed to fix you is time I wish to not waste and strongly considered replacing you," he berates as if reprimanding an employee, somewhat forgetting that my place here isn't out of my own free will. Neither had I willingly given my body up as a canvas for their abusive strokes of blue and purple. 

Colors I once loved, now utterly despise.

"But, someone has come forth and negotiated on your behalf. Chances I don't likely give," he says. 

Who would do such a thing? 

It has to be Peggy. Steven wouldn't be less bothered and the rest don't know me well enough. Aside from that, Peggy has a tendency for standing up for me against these monsters and I cannot be more grateful knowing I have someone like her on my side in this forsaken place.

"On that note, you have 3 weeks," he continues.

I wait for an explanation, but none arrives. I hope he doesn't expect me to magically know what it is that he's speaking of. My heart's pounding enough as is and the space for riddles in this head of mine is little to none. 

"3 weeks for what?"  

"To fix yourself. Obedience, compliance, appearance. Should you not meet these standards by October 25th, I take it you do not value your life." 

His words rattle my core and I can feel my hands beginning to shake. To say I wasn't expecting his answer is the understatement of the year. 

He shifts his weight from the one foot onto the other. His arms now crossed across his chest. I'd get tired as well from standing in the exact same position for over half an hour.

"What will happen after the 25th?" I dare ask.

"Consider your existence abolished," he says casually as if discussing the weather.

My eyes bulge from their sockets and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as I notice no trace of mischief from him. He's being completely honest. Taken aback by his remark, my throat becomes dry as I stare at the ruthless villain before me. 

Tears threaten to spill at the sudden thought of never having to see my family again. A brief moment of sheer weakness. I should know better than believing in such fairytales. The chance of trafficked victims ever seeing their family again is less likely than pigs flying. 

Yet, I cannot prevent the stabbing pain that sores through my chest. No matter how far I attempt to block the memories, to push aside my aching heart that longs for them, there's a part of me that'll always remember, a part that'll never let go. I wish I could turn it off. 

"Do we have an understanding?" he questions.

I nod, fumbling my fingers, far too frightened to utter a single word. 

I can still feel the pain, so much raw pain, but I can't be broken anymore. They've pushed me to the brink and all I can do now is drift along. I accept what's to come, only as long as I live. Death is one path I cannot accept. Not by their hands, not in this place.

Seeming satisfied with my response he continues, "Good, then we're done here. You know what's at stake." 

With that said, he shoves his hands into his pockets and strides towards the door. Once opening it, I spot Peggy standing out in the hallway with a tray in her hands. For some reason, the knot in my throat tightens. The kind that forces emotions to pour and tears to follow. Taking deep breaths, I urge myself to calm down.

"Unless you plan on prolonging her recovery, I suggest that hair be dried," Marcus comments before disappearing around the corner. 

"Of course, sir."

Not bothered to pay attention any further, I face forward and close my eyes. Liquid trickles down my face as my thoughts twist and turn, suffocating me with their whispers.

Just breathe, I try to calm myself.

"Vivian? What happened? What's wrong?" The worry etched in her voice pull at the strings of my heart. I pry my eyes open to see her sitting directly in front of me. Her thumbs brush gently across my cheeks. 

"Speak to me, what's wrong?" She wipes her hands on her clothing before returning them to my cheeks, repeating her previous motion. 

"It's just my neck. It hurts," I lie. 

Not so subtle this time, but I hope she doesn't catch onto it. I reach for my neck and cup my hands around it to emphasize the pain. There's no reason to stress her out over futile matters where Marcus' concerned. Besides, my neck could do with a redressing as the current dressing is soaked in water and I'm pretty sure that defeats the purpose.

"You're lying, what did he say to you?"

"I'm not-"

"Vivian."

A sigh escapes me as I realize that there's no getting around this. She'll interrogate me until she's blue in the face and will only stop once hell freezes over. I don't want to but I have no choice. I might as well let her know since there's a decent chance I won't be around anymore. 

"I have 3 weeks to fix myself, appearance and behavior wise, or else it's game over. 'Existence abolished' he said and I could tell that he meant it." 

Her eyes grow round and wide as tremors of fear strike her features. My heart pounds louder. She blinks a few hundred times, seeming absent in thought. A scramble of frightful thoughts enough to cause a loss for words.

"I'm going to make sure that does not happen to you. Do you hear me? I promise you, you will be taken care of. You need to tone down your bold and rebellious habits but we'll get through this, okay? No more snarky, sarcastic remarks. It'll only be recovery from here on out," she says once finding her voice.

My eyes drip with tears the way water does from a leaking tap. Moment by moment, they fall and I wish they'd stop. I'm growing tired of constantly crying, consumed by overwhelming emotions. Why won't they stop? Why won't they stop falling? 

I quickly wipe my tears away and reach over to hug Peggy, thanking her endlessly. Not thinking much of my pajama top soaked in water because of my dripping hair which is most likely getting her wet too.

"There's nothing to thank me for. If anything it's the very least I could do," she says as she pulls away. 

Taken aback, I ask, "What do you mean?" 

Before answering, she takes my hands into her own as a sad smile rests on her face. A feeble attempt to cover up the visible guilt seeping through.

"I'm sorry that you're here, that this is the path your life has shifted to. And I'm sorry that I cannot change it back to what it was. Believe me, I would if I could. But, I can ensure that while you're here you are treated decently. There's an easy-living loophole to this madness which you haven't found because you're always fighting. So give into this and you'll see that's it not all that bad." She squeezes my hands ever so tightly.

I stare back dumbfoundedly, momentarily lost and confused by her apology. Yet somehow happy and certain as if having been shown the path to life itself. 

"I know that what I'm saying sounds cruel and contradicts what's victims in your situation do, but I'm only trying to help you and this piece of advice is the best way how."

Little does she know I've made up my mind a long time ago.

"You don't have much to worry about," I reassure her, the waterworks finally coming to an end, "I've already accepted all of this a while back. I simply wasn't expecting a death threat to be added to the list of things needed to be faced in this place."

Her eyes bounce with such surprise at my response it's almost comical. 

"Oh, good. Very good actually." She clasps her hands together, seeming rather proud. Her demeanor suddenly shifts as if our prior tearful conversation never took place. "You haven't eaten yet, you need to eat," she continues.

Raising to her feet she reaches over to the bedside table and grabs the tray she entered with, placing it on my lap. I look down at the meal and frown. 

"Breakfast?"

"It's only 9 am, Vivian. You'll receive lunch at lunch hour and supper during supper time. A schedule to grow accustomed to."

I stare at her bewildered. There are only so many hours in a day and yet this one has barely begun. "It's still morning? I swear half the day has already passed," I state half shocked. 

"It certainly feels that way but unfortunately not. Michael came in here rather early. A time he knew or rather thought no one would be around. You've been up much earlier than you should have. Regardless, breakfast it is. You can take a nap after."

"Yeah but... Oats?" I whine, dunking the spoon in the bowl before raising it and allowing the oatmeal to fall back in. 

The chances of me being dramatic right now is a solid zero. Everyone knows oats given as a meal to victims held hostage is worse than prison food. Thick lumps of tasteless soggy cardboard bits heated to give a somewhat runny consistency. Yuck. 

"I've noticed you have trouble swallowing, this will go down much smoother than eggs on toast."

"Why not soup then?" I retort.

No sarcasm Vivian! I scold myself, seeking self-control. Although I do wonder where Jess is. She's usually the one to keep me in check with matters like these. Perhaps she took a vacation. 

I'm a mess after all.

"Finish up, you have medication to take after. There's OJ next to you." I simply nod.

Looking down, I continue to swirl the oatmeal about. "Here's sugar in, right?"

No response.

I look back up to see if she's still here, which she is. "Please say here's at least one spoon of sugar in."

She deadpans before turning away and walking over to the dresser. I take it as my cue to shut my mouth and pray this meal is somewhat edible. 

Not paying attention to Peggy's back and forth expeditions, I force myself not to grimace and place the first spoon in my mouth. To my wildest surprise, I almost moaned at how good it tastes. Who knew oats could taste so heavenly? Was this made by the gods themselves? 

"Who made this?" I ask, still devouring the meal.

"I did."

Stunned, I momentarily pause then look up. "You cook?"

"Don't act so surprised. Since there's no kitchen staff, a group of us who knows how to cook has been assigned to meal prep every day," she says. 

The more you know. Choosing not to think too deeply into the matter, I shrug my shoulders and continue, "It's really good."

Before I knew it, the bowl was empty. A satisfying meal. I'm no connoisseur, but it's rare that my opinions of food are proven wrong. 

"You're done, finally. Take these," she says while handing me two capsules and a lozenge.

I grab the orange juice on the bedside table, shove the capsules in my mouth and down the hatch, it all goes. Peggy removes the tray from my lap, placing it on the dresser along with the glass before placing a few items onto the bed. All the while I sit and suck on the blackcurrant flavored lozenge. 

"Okay, let's get that hair of yours dried before Marcus kills me."

A small chuckle escapes me as I watch her hurry about. 

She grabs the hair dryer from the bed and plugs the lead in at the wall behind the bedside table. Heaven alone knows where she found the thing. I wasn't even aware I had one nor that the wall had sockets. Which only makes sense since the lamps have to be plugged in in order to work.

Cue my dumbass to be so clueless.

Once my hair and pajama top is dry, she redresses my neck wound. A tedious process as the torn scabs threaten to tear further with each movement. A process eventually overcome through patience and steady hands.

"There we go. All done," Peggy announces as she gets up from the bed. She then places everything back where they belong before walking over to the monitors with the IV tubes and wires attached.

"You'll no longer be needing these so I'm going to remove them. In the meantime, get some rest. I'll wake you up in a few hours time." I nod and watch her leave the room, monitors and all. 

The camera shifts for a second time.