The doctor pokes and prods, and then turns to Judge, who’s standing like a sentry next to the bed, his tension palpable. I’m quite certain he’s already concocting ways to punish me for the imaginary results in his head. Although he would deny it, we both know what this test is really for. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else ever having me. But he’ll never admit it. He’s too goddamn proud.

“She’s intact,” the doctor tells him.

Judge glances at me, swallows, and nods. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes.”

The doctor hands me a towel to clean up, and I take it to the privacy of the bathroom. I don’t know why I’m still in Judge’s bedroom, but if I’m being honest, I’m grateful for the sanctuary. I don’t think I’d find a moment of sleep in my room, thinking Miriam might decide to come back and finish me off at any moment.

When I glance at my reflection in the mirror, the bruising on my face is a painful reminder that just like now, Judge didn’t believe what I’d told him about Miriam. No matter what I tell him, I doubt he’ll be swayed, and I can’t endure him looking at me like I’m a liar all over again. I know he’s taking it easy on me right now, but it won’t last. Once he knows I’m recovered, there will be a reckoning, and I don’t know I’m prepared to face it.

I consider all the things that might happen between now and then. There are other things to worry about too, like Georgie and Solana. What will he do about them? How can I protect them when I can’t even warn them?

I swallow the bitterness in my mouth and make my way back to the bed reluctantly. The doctor is gone now, and it’s just Judge and me. He’s standing at the window, staring out at the grounds, deep in thought. I know he heard me return, but I’m hoping he’ll pretend he didn’t because I’m so annoyed by him I could scream.

But annoyed isn’t the right word, really. I’m fucking hurt. I’m hurt that he expects the worse from me. It cuts me deep, and I don’t know why. Why should I care what he thinks? He means nothing to me in the grand scheme of things. I have to remember that. No matter what happens here. No matter how much he twists me up inside.

He turns to face me, and more emotions I don’t want well up within me. I’m sure as hell not expecting an apology, and he doesn’t offer me one.

“Who is Georgie to you, Mercedes?”