PREVIOUS “MOUSE” POSTINGS CAN BE FOUND HERE.
Warning: explicit language below, don’t jump in unless you don’t mind.
Mouse: Trapped and Broken
I’m barely aware of being carried up the hill that I just slid down. My cheek presses against Tom’s chest. Pain jolts through me as I struggle against him, my legs trying to kick out futilely.
“Will you fucking stop before you make us both go down?” he says through clenched teeth.
I don’t stop.
“I will throw you over my shoulder and forget about you’re broken arm and god knows what else,” he threatens.
The tears come again. I hate this vulnerability. I hate that he has control. I hate that I misjudged him. I hate him and mostly I hate me, weak, sniveling me. Maybe this is how it feels to be completely broken.
“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Kill you?” he repeats, but says nothing further.
He sets me on the seat and buckles me in and then reaches for my hoodie and uses it to tie up my legs.
“You don’t need to do that,” I say.
“I’m taking no chances with you.”
Despite the heat, my teeth start chattering. I’m hot and clammy cold at the same time.
“Fucking bloody hell, Mouse,” he says and then places an old blanket I use to cover my computer over me.
He starts driving. I close my eyes, listening to the sounds, the tires snapping gravel, the engine’s purr, the transition of the tires to the gravel road leading to The Compound, my whimpers.
I don’t glance around. I don’t want to see what this traitor has brought me to. Tom and betrayal shouldn’t fit in the same sentence and yet here we are.
“Tom, where in the hell have you been?” It sounds like Nick Ryder. I move my head and squint. I think I see Derek, but wasn’t he killed?
They exchange words, most of which sound garbled. “She’s not the leak,” Nick says. Are they talking about me?
“Her behavior’s suspicious,” Tom says. “She’s got connections, money, lots of money.”
“We’ll check her out, but she’s still not the leak. Mark confessed.” Nick’s voice draws nearer. “What in the hell did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything. She threw herself out of the car when she saw where we were headed. I think her arm’s broken.”
“Get her to the infirmary.” Weirdly I think “get her to the nunnery,” but that’s not quite right, is it?
Their words play over in my brain. Was this all a ruse? Did they set this all up because they thought I was a traitor? And Joe? And Sandra? Everyone was in on it? But the news reports. I shake my head, which I immediately regret as it feels like cartoon stars begin orbiting inside. Why did they go to so much trouble?
All manipulated. I was manipulated. Did they do something to Alexi?
Tom opens the door and surveys me. He unties my legs and tosses the hoodie onto the back seat. I watch him with narrowed eyes. The kisses. All of the words. The flirting. All a ploy. He reaches to help me out.
“Fuck off,” I say venomously, my voice sadly just a breath.
“I was doing my job, Mouse.” His voice cracks slightly. Or is that my imagination? My need to believe he’s not totally ice cold.
My knees are bleeding and weak beneath me, but I start walking toward the infirmary. His arm encircles my waist, almost willing me to lean against him.
My brain does what it knows best, starts planning to get out of here. I’ll get my arm fixed and be on my way and this time I’ll make sure I stay alone. Never trusting anyone.
End of Mouse Tales Part One