Tiger's Cage

King

King presided over the budget meeting with the same stern expression as always, but unlike countless previous meetings, his mind was elsewhere this time.

Josh swore Teela was okay. He clung to that assessment hard. But deep down, King knew better.

No one was okay after the reflection room.

A stout man in a pinstripe suit stammered his way through his portion of the presentation. His words were barely comprehensible through an early luncheon drunken slur.

King pulled it together long enough to signal Min. The drunk would never work at a Heavenly business again.

Heavenly employees were a direct reflection of the Heavenly family. The man broke so many of the edicts.

Lettie would have done worse than fire him. She would have destroyed the entire family.

King fought not to squirm in his seat. He needed to move, not just for himself but also for Teela. She mustn't move, mustn't pace, must not throw a fit or pound her fists on the door that would not open.

Teela was such a good girl, typically, that she had to listen to the advice Josh had left with her. If not, well, King didn't want to think about it.

The minute the meeting wrapped, King was out the door with Min on his heels.

He rushed past Nan's desk, slapping his tablet and portfolio onto her desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Heavenly. Your next meeting starts in ten."

"Cancel it."

King kept walking.

He headed straight to the company's gym where he quickly changed and practically ran to the treadmills while inserting his earbuds. Whatever was eating at him, he'd sweat it off.

Who was he kidding? He was obsessed with thoughts of Teela in the reflection room.

That room was never meant to be used ever again. He'd meant to have the room disassembled or sealed permanently, but he kept putting it off. Now it was too late.

He ran, and he ran, pushing through mile after mile. He ran from the horrific dark and the blinding light. He ran from the silence and the feelings of shame and betrayal.

He stumbled and corrected himself to keep going.

Min brought him a water bottle and a fresh towel. King had soaked the last one with sweat.

"King, how about taking a break? Do some upper body work for a while, or we can spar."

Min was a champion mixed martial artist before he took the job with King. He was as adept as King's personal security as he was at putting his business management degree to work in his role as King's assistant.

"I need to run."

It was afternoon. Teela had gone more than sixteen hours without food or water—maybe longer. King couldn't remember if Teela had joined the family for dinner. She would be getting weak soon, and then the hallucinations and bad dreams would start.

"Min, apply for a credit card in my name—something unrelated to the family. I want a secondary card in Teela's name. No credit limit.

"And, Min, find out Teela's bank account number. Transfer a million from my personal account into hers."

King knew funerals cost money. He should have been the one to pay his mother-in-law's funeral expenses, but Teela never mentioned it. King had assumed Lettie had taken care of it.

King had assumed Lettie had taken care of a lot of things.

Love Teela or not, King had certain obligations to fulfill as a husband. He may not know exactly what they were, but he was aware enough to know financial support and protection were the bare minimum.

He'd failed in both regards.

How did one protect one loved one against another without offending either woman?

One was his mother, and the other was his wife. They were both important, and he didn't want to choose.

King pushed through another half hour before his legs turned to jelly, and his lungs refused to keep up with his demands.

He had to talk with his mom and convince her to let Teela go, even if it meant going into the reflection room himself. He shuddered at the thought.

 Teela

Even though I was sitting, the reflection room spun as I tried to focus on the door. Someone was coming. At this point, anyone would be a welcome sight, especially if they brought water.

The door opened, and Josh entered with a syringe in his hand.

I cringed. The hormone treatments were wasted on me. I would never produce a grandchild for Lettie.

Josh angled his body between me and the cameras.

"How are you holding up?" Josh whispered as he injected me.

"Water."

I'd lost the ability to create tears two nights ago. My lips were cracked.

Josh slipped a flask from his jacket and held it to my lips. "Electrolytes. Quick. Two sips." He looked over his shoulder at the nearest camera.

I gulped down the fluids. I could finish the entire small flask easily, but two swallows were all I got before Josh pulled away.

I nodded in thanks. Grateful I got at least that much. "How much longer?"

"We're working on it."

We? Who was he working with? Was King helping him deal with Lettie? But King brought me down here, to begin with. He specifically told me I needed a lesson.

And then I was alone again seconds before the darkness came.

I lay down on my side with my back to the center of the room. I curled in on myself and closed my eyes. I might as well sleep. Nothing was going to change. Lettie would leave me here until I died.

I doubted that. While I had no doubt she could make me disappear, explaining away a missing daughter-in-law could reflect poorly on the family. However, I had no doubt she would make me regret ever being born. I was almost to that point already.

Not much in the last three years had added value to my life. How had I allowed myself to get to this point? As much as I wanted to blame Lettie and King, ultimately, this was on me. I volunteered to be stepped on. I shrugged off the mental abuse, the neglect.

I gave up fighting the injections with a piss-poor excuse of a fight. Come on. If I really didn't want those treatments, I wouldn't have shown up for another one. Granted, I had little recourse while in the reflection room, but before the room, I did. I could fight.

So, yeah, I was as guilty as they were. I had victimized myself.

Lettie wanted me to reflect. Well, I was reflecting, and I didn't like what I saw.

I can't say I really slept, but I did doze, listening for the clicks as the lights went on and off to have something to focus on besides the knot in my stomach.

It would help if facing the wall gave me a sense of security or privacy, but the mirrored wall did neither. The space that may have been a ten-foot-by-ten-foot square seemed vast and open. I was beginning to feel agoraphobia. I fought against it by focusing on the bruising on my stomach where Josh inserted the needles. I stared hard enough to impress the image on my psyche, hard enough to still imagine the mottled skin during the dark phases.

I must have lain still for too long. After a while, I heard someone unlock the door. I was pretty sure another day had not passed yet.

I cared, but I didn't care who was coming. At this point, it seemed like too much work to even look up, so I stayed where I was. Whoever it was would come time. Knowing who it was wouldn't change anything, so I waited.

After so much quiet, the sound of footfalls sounded foreign. The shoes stopped right inside my peripheral vision. They were dress shoes, men's shoes.

Not Lettie.

The person squatted down and put a hand on my shoulder. So what?

The lights went out, and the man sucked in his breath. His hand tensed on my shoulder, and he moaned.

It occurred to me that he was reliving the trauma of his own trips to the reflection room.

Aching, I turned to read his face in the dim light of the word art.

Whatever you do, wherever you go, someone is watching.

Whatever you do, whatever you say, someone is listening.

My eyes widened as I saw who kneeled beside me. His face was a tight mask as if he were accustomed to successfully corralling his emotions, but now the gate was down, and he was struggling.

I reached out to comfort him, to rest a hand along his cheek, but he jerked back as if afraid I would strike him. He fell back on his haunches and scooted away. The illumination from the words blinked brighter and created macabre shadows across what I had always considered attractive contours.

How many times had he been confined in this room to react so strongly to one lighting shift so many years later? Was this my future? Would I be scarred for life?

I shook my head as the room went totally dark. In the dark, with this man lost somewhere in his own nightmares, I let go and screamed out my shame, my fury, my pain. Never again would I allow anyone to lead me into hell without putting up a true fight.