AN: Upon request, I have added translations at the bottom of the page for words spoken in German. I would like to thank PLEASEIBEGYOU for their ideas. I very much appreciate story ideas, and even if I don't use them they still help me come up with other things. ^^
Also, quick note that this story can be found on ao3 now, if necessary.
Despite how utterly embarrassing it was to have the doctor changing her tampons all the time, Lindsay felt almost sick when she noticed that her menstruation was reaching it's end. Heiter had been giving her steroids, saying that it'll make her stronger for surgery. She wondered if his decision to operate on her legs had just been a whim, because he hadn't been giving her the drugs before. She still couldn't believe what he was giving her. Steroids weren't for normal people, where they? They were for cheating athletes, the ones that want to get more muscles than their competition without the extra work, the ones that kept getting into trouble on the news because it was illegal.
Had he been planning on giving her blood thinners? He'd already admitted to wanting to give the centipede thinners to keep them alive, and until just a short while ago she'd been kept down in the basement. Maybe it was because she was getting out more, no longer locked away from the rest of the house?
He shifted in his sleep and a warm pressure made itself known against her back, his shoulder resting against her.
What where they now, anyway?
It was an easy question. He was the kidnapper, and she the victim. He'd mutilated her, and cut off her every escape attempt. He was her possible murderer, if she tried his patience too much. He was her jailer, he was the one in power, and she was helpless. It had been and still was a horrible situation. So why did the weight at her back feel so comfortable?
The last tampon he'd taken from her had only a little blood on it, the flow easing as it always had on that last day. He hadn't set a specific day for the surgery, but he had said he was going to wait until she was off her cycle.
She hadn't forgotten the other thing that had been put off until after her period. The egg was exactly where he's left it, untouched on the shelf. Her own self pity apparently told him that she was sexually frustrated, and maybe she was, but she really didn't want to use the thing in front of him. The thought had occurred to her that it would be easier if he used it himself... as if he would. They'd kissed what, twice? After she'd basically offered herself to him(on more than one occasion. Damn those codeine pills...)?
But it was still Heiter. He ruined her life, she shouldn't even be thinking about this. Yes, he was easier to deal with, but that didn't change the position she was in. Didn't change the fact her best friend was dead because of him. Even so...she curled up into a ball under the blankets, it had been a long time. Months since she'd even pleasured herself. The thought hadn't even occurred to her until he'd started getting so...she didn't even know what he was doing anymore. Now that her every thought wasn't centered on escape, her body was starting to get the same urges as, before all this mess started, before she'd become repulsive. She almost felt like she was in collage again, except the only guy available was the creep that watches you from across the room like's he's mentally striping the skin from your body.
This thought had been circling her head since the night he'd presented her with that stupid vibrator. He'd said he wouldn't force her, and she believed him. At least, she was sure that if he was going to force her, he would have done so when he offered her the egg in the first place. The thing was, if she simply used it, he'd get off her back, and maybe it would a put a stop to whatever it was inside her that wanted him to stop rejecting her.
A vibrator, a simple machine. She'd never used one before, but she had the basic idea about how it would work. He wouldn't actually be touching her, just pressing metal against her, so... it wasn't sex.
She felt like she was thinking that a lot. It meant nothing if she didn't hate being hugged by him, right? It meant nothing if she didn't dislike every conversation she had with him, right? She was just dealing with this situation as best she could, and she was doing pretty well, considering.
It wasn't her fault that he was literally the only person she had to interact with, it wasn't her fault that she was completely depended upon him for every little thing, and it wasn't her fault she felt more naked when he took that stupid collar off to bathe her than when he took the sweater off.
She'd only been listening to his breath for the past hour because there was no other noise in the room.
And she only rolled over to lay her head against his shoulder because she was cold.
In the morning, the wad of cotton came out clean, no trace of blood at all. Her period was officially over. Even though she knew it was going to happen, she felt her heart sink a little. While part of her was expecting him to bring it up again the second she'd stopped bleeding, he made no comment other than, "It's been five days. Good, your menstruation was normal. You might have a proper monthly cycle soon."
A fresh diaper was put on, and she was carried down to the kitchen where she was made to sit at the table and wait while he made breakfast. Sandwiches, her own cut into smaller pieces so she could eat it easier.
"D-did you sleep okay last night?" she asked once he'd taken a seat opposite her.
"Oh..." she played with one of the pieces, square, a thin slice of meat and cheese wedged between the bread. At least she was on solid food again, instead of soup all the time. It tasted pretty good, actually.
"Are you still feeling cramps?"
"Ah, no. I feel fine."
"How is your throat?"
Maybe he was going to do the surgery first. Blood clots were more dangerous, after all, and then she'd have to recover. Maybe she could get away with avoiding it for awhile.
"Your menstrual cycle is over. You said you should be able to achieve orgasm now."
Apparently not. "Do we have to do this now?"
"You said that a few days ago."
"You're putting your heath in danger the more you put it off."
"I'm not going to die from it, Heiter."
"You are suffering from psychological side effects that if left unchecked could result in terminal injury."
"You could take your own life."
That made her pause. "You..." she tried again, "You're afraid I'm going to... kill myself?"
"You are not going to commit suicide because these issues are going to be dealt with."
There was a long, heavy silence while Lindsay stared at him, forgetting for a moment about the vibrator. The man. The foreign man that had been at the front of the centipede. It wasn't just Jenny that died, he had, and he'd slit his own throat with a piece of glass, had done it right in front of him. The doctor had already admitted to being upset about the fact that Jenny had suffered, had this affected him as well?
Because she was almost positive that she'd shown no signs of having suicidal thoughts. Even though he'd put her through hell and back, she'd no intent to harm herself.
"I wouldn't, I'm not... Heiter."
"I don't know that."
"W... why does it matter? You... why would you even.." she grasped questions already asked, questions he'd still not answered.
For once, he answered, but of course he didn't do it in English, his voice softened to just above a whisper, "Ich glaube nicht, dass du sterben, Puppe."
"I can't understand you when you talk like that,"
"Is the vibrator satisfactory or should I find something else?"
"The... the egg is... I don't know."
"Have you ever used a vibrator before?"
"Do you require assistance?"
She looked away from him, down at the table, fiddling with her sweater sleeve, "Probably..."
The doctor exhaled slightly louder than usual, not quite a sigh, and stood to leave the room.
Ich glaube nicht, dass du sterben/ I do not want you to die.