“What are the others?”
“What others?”
“The other wishes on your fucking list.”
“You know what they are: they’re your wishes. I don’t need to tell them to you.”
Still from behind, he placed his hands on my shoulders and pulled them back. “Your posture needs improving. Ah, you see, when you stand straight, your breasts look as young as their age. You’re lucky, they are quite large, which means they will still be nicely full after.”
I waited for a moment, and said, “After what?”
“After you do things like … exercise, and little things like eat … healthy, or … less.” He blew a bubble with his gum, which exploded all over his face. He unstuck part of it and put it back in his mouth, but plenty was left stuck on his cheeks and chin. I didn’t point it out to him.
He took some keys out of his pocket and unlocked my cell door. He took my wrist firmly and escorted me through the house.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the most predictable place, considering your outfit.”
“Nothing is predictable when it comes to your insanity.”
He took me to the pool and said, “Go in.”
The gun was casually pointed at me. After trying to object, which did no good, I went down the first rung of the ladder. The water felt weird. It was unusually gentle, light and soft against my legs, as if my skin were numb.
“Continue,” said Damon.
I went down another rung. I swung my foot through the water, which offered little resistance. It didn’t feel as solid as water usually did. It felt the way water might feel in a dream.
It wasn’t until I actually lowered myself into the water that I knew, like an animal who knows to stay away from fire, that I should do everything in my power to avoid going in. But before I had a chance to climb back out, Damon yanked my hands off the rail and I fell backward into the water. And I kept on falling. In truth, I sank, but it felt like I was simply falling.
Chapter Eight
It was terrifying. The water was like a form of quicksand, only quicker. I had to kick extremely hard and fast to stay afloat, and do the same with my arms. If I slowed down for an instant, I started sinking again. I tried to swim back toward the ladder, but Damon was there, with his gun, preventing me from grabbing onto the rail.
“Not yet, Anna. You’re doing well. Try to get used to it. Just a bit longer. Try to relax.”
Relax? The asshole. If I relaxed I would sink. This was not the type of water in which you could pleasantly bob around.
“You’re doing great,” he said. “It’s excellent exercise. Great for your legs. For everything. You just have to get used to it.”
“I’m already used to it,” I managed to screech, which was a mistake, for I didn’t have the energy to spare and I started sinking. My movements were now too weak to get me back to the surface.
A hand violently grabbed my upper arm and yanked me back to the air. As he pulled me out of the pool, his translucent wet trousers clung to his legs like Kleenex.
I coughed as never before in my life. Then I sobbed, sitting with my face in my knees.
I looked up at him and said, “Please let me go. Please.” Tears streamed down my cheeks and blurred my vision. I kept repeating “please,” almost maniacally, to show him I might be losing my mind.
“Calm down Anna. It’s not as bad as it seems. Just remember what we’re doing: we’re working for your dreams.”
“By making me drown? And what the hell is wrong with this water, anyway?”
“It’s highly diluted.”
“Diluted? With what?”
“Air.”
“What are you talking about? Water can’t be diluted,” I said, with more authority than I felt. “And certainly not with air.”
“Fine, then call it aeration. This water is drenched with air. It doesn’t offer much support for swimmers, or rubber ducks.”
“So you made me swim in air.”
“No, unfortunately. That would have been more fun. You were swimming in airy water, or slightly vaporous water.”
“Please, let me go,” I said.
“You’ll feel better if you just accept the fact that you’re here until we reach our goal,” he said, settling himself down beside me. “You might as well work as hard as you can.”
I was clawing my scalp. “I’m not going to survive. I can’t work or function this way. You’re a scientist; you know nothing about acting. Even if you did, I wouldn’t learn under these conditions. Any talent I might have will be crushed, out of disgust. But if, by some miracle, you did improve my acting and I became successful, that wouldn’t make me happy. Success doesn’t ensure happiness, especially when attained in this nightmarish way. And isn’t my happiness your primary goal?”
“Absolutely. And success in all your dreams may not guarantee that you will be happy, but it’ll make it as likely as possible.”
“No, there are things that matter to me much more than success, such as having my life unfold in a natural way; having the destiny that is most natural to me. You’re not letting that happen.”
“What is most natural to human beings is for them to develop their highest potential. The way it happens doesn’t matter. What matters is that it happens. Now let’s get back to work,” he said. “We have to find some other form of exercise for you, in addition to swimming in this watair.”
“Swimming in this what?”
“Watair. It’s my name for it. Can you think of a better name?”
“I think so. Watmare. By the way, I plan to devote the rest of my life to making your life hell, if not ending it altogether. Your goal is to make me happy? Well, I will be unhappy, just to spite you.”
“My life is of no importance to me. If it’ll please you to make my life hell, then do it. I’ll put myself at your disposal. Now, what types of physical exercises do you enjoy doing?”
“Horseback riding.”
“I’ve never heard you mention riding before. But it’s not an option, for obvious reasons. What else?”
“Dirt biking.”
“Same obvious reasons. And how strange that I’ve never heard you mention that one either. What else?”
“Fencing. Have you heard me mention that one? Fencing. That’s all I like doing physically.”
“Yes, but you’d have no one to do it with, and if I tried, it would be too risky; you’d incapacitate me in a second. I saw how you worked your wand in the subway. You were dangerous.”
“Your flattery repels me.”
“What other sports do you like?”
“Any sport that consists of swift transportation outdoors.”
“I see I’m not going to get much help from you. If you want me to pick your sport for you, that’s fine. How about running?”
“Excellent. Especially outdoors and alone.”
“Running it is, then.”
“Outdoors and alone?” I asked, surprised and hopeful.
“Indoors and supervised.”
“I hate running.”
“Too late. You tired me and tried my patience. We’re going back to your room so you can change into your running outfit.”
“Please don’t call it that.”
“Jogging outfit? Sweat suit?”
“It’s not my room. It’s a jail. Call it jail.”
“Okay, we’re going back to jail. But that makes me sound like a sheriff.”
We went back, but instead of making me change clothes, he looked at his watch, and said, “Actually, we won’t have time to do this right now. You’ll have to excuse me for a little while.” And he left. It was 1:25 P.M.