My knees ache as I crawl back down the hall to my bedroom. I guess Judge is done letting me stay in his room, and I’m glad for it. I don’t want to smell him. I don’t want to see him. I just want to curl up and die, if I’m being honest. I have nothing and no one. It fucking hurts, and for the first time in my life, I’m questioning why I’m even here. What purpose does my existence even serve?

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Judge reaches for my arm and tries to pull me up, and I yank away, shoving at his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” I snarl.

He stares at me, bewildered by the violence in my tone, and makes the mistake of reaching for me again. This time, I scream.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again! I hate you. I fucking hate you. Leave me alone!”

“Mercedes.” He stands there, shocked, and I know what it looks like. It looks like I’m losing my mind. But I don’t care. Maybe I finally am.

“I don’t want to see your face,” I choke out as I pry the collar off my neck and toss it onto the ground. “I don’t want to hear your voice. And if you touch me again, I will murder you too. So do us both a favor and just stay the hell away from me.”

I stagger into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, locking it in place. And then, I cry.

18

Judge

The next two weeks pass quietly. To anyone who was to only look into my house, that is. It may appear peaceful even. If not for the near-catatonic woman who is my houseguest.

Since her outburst after her punishment, Mercedes has barely spoken two words to me. She hasn’t looked at me. She’s refused to eat a morsel of food that Miriam brings her, and I admit, it’s forced my hand, so I’ve let her eat with Lois in the kitchen. I didn’t like to see how gaunt she was becoming. How quickly she was losing weight.

She’s stubborn to the point that she will hurt herself, and I need to figure out how to get through to her.

But this isn’t just being stubborn. Something broke in her the day I punished her. And I hate myself for it. For not having understood what a humbling as great as that would do to her psyche.

She’s depressed.

And I’m worried.

I haven’t talked to Santiago about it yet, but I will need to very soon.