Training (6)

* * *

My stomach hurt. I couldn’t tell the exact time, but it wasn’t morning yet. I hadn’t slept long. Curled up, groaning, I was painfully aware of the cause of the discomfort, even though I wasn’t a specialist in internal medicine.

Yesterday, I had eaten a small amount of food at Noel’s insistence. Later that night I used the chamber pot once and reluctantly cleaned it afterwards, trying to keep my composure through the ordeal.

I used the chalk to scratch three lines in the corner of the room, marking the third day. I had asked for a pen to keep track of the days, and judging by the fact that Noel brought me chalk instead, he must have understood my intentions only too well.

Just before I went to bed, the thought of having to relieve myself, a need I had avoided with every ounce of willpower, came to me. But suddenly I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I had held it in.

There was no way I was going to use the chamber pot for that, and the thought of anyone—be it Cane or Noel—seeing it was unbearable. That determination helped me hold back the urge long enough to finally drift off to sleep.

But now, in the early hours of the morning, my stomach was painfully tight, throbbing in dull, sharp waves. Cold sweat trickled down my skin. The effort of holding it in, combined with all the stress, seemed to have thrown my bowels out of whack.

“Ugh… it hurts…”

I stubbornly refused to use the chamber pot for bowel movements. I persevered, driven by sheer defiance. The pain came and went, surging and fading as I clenched and endured.

I closed my eyes, trying desperately to fall asleep. Sleep didn’t come, but keeping my eyes closed somehow made the pain feel a little less intense, or at least it tricked my mind into thinking it did.

“Stubborn as always.”

“Ah!”

Without a sound, Cane had appeared, towering over me again. This time, I was truly startled. I screamed, eyes snapping open. How does he move around so silently, like a ghost?!

“Is your stomach hurting?” he asked, his voice annoyingly calm.

Cane frowned as he asked the question, impatience in his voice. I couldn’t help but wonder what time he’d come into the room. How did he even know I was in pain?

‘There must be a camera.’

I thought to myself, the idea settling in with more certainty. If there was a camera, it meant that everything – every humiliating moment – had been recorded. Maybe Noel and Theo had even seen it.

Even through the pain, my mind wandered off into these thoughts.

“Are you sick?” he asked again, his voice cutting through my silence.

I said nothing.

I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was in pain from holding it in. The thought of saying it out loud made me feel even more ashamed.

“You do make things difficult.”

Cane sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. If I could just go to the bathroom, this whole ordeal would be over. This mess was all his fault and I wasn’t going to let him forget it. I glared at him as I finally spoke.

“Let me go to the bathroom.”

“I already gave you a chamber pot.” he replied, almost bored.

“…Why don’t you try using that thing?” I snapped back.

My quick reply caused Cane’s lips to twist into a crooked smile. He seemed intrigued.

“So, the reason you’re in pain… is because you’re holding it in?”

“…Yes. Are you satisfied now?”

Internally, I cursed him with every foul word I knew.

“Let’s see how long you can keep it up.”

That mocking grin of his made me want to slap him across the face.

Cane’s words twisted with amusement as if he were toying with me.

“I was going to say something else, but… someone seems to have sweet-talked Noel.”

I looked up at him, breathing heavily, a flicker of hope igniting within me. Had Noel turned me down? Without realizing it, a feeling of despair crept up on me.

“You said you wanted to wash up, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit it.” I said quietly, keeping my expression neutral.

Cane’s laugh was slow and thick, oozing amusement.

“I didn’t think you’d be so good at pillow talk, Doctor.”

His smirk was enough to send a wave of unease through me. I kept my mouth shut, knowing that arguing or defending myself would only amuse him more. Pillow talk? As if I had even come close to that with Noel. Still, there was no point in explaining it to Cane – he wouldn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter to me if you’re clean or not.” he continued with a lazy grin. “Still turns me on.”

His words made my skin crawl, but I bit my lip and kept my composure. I couldn’t afford to react.

‘Go ahead and say whatever you want.’ I thought, closing my eyes and letting Cane’s words go in one ear and out the other.

“I could cover you in my c*m and lock you up in here.” he added with a twisted grin.

My brow furrowed involuntarily. The more I ignored him, the filthier and more degrading his words became.

“But, since Noel wants you to wash up, I guess I’ll have to grant that wish.” Cane finished, his voice mocking as ever.

Cane whistled as he headed for the exit. Inside, I cheered softly. Could it be that I would finally be able to leave this room, even for a moment?

I had picked up something new from our earlier conversation: despite his ruthless attitude, Cane seemed to adhere closely to Noel and Theo’s opinions. As he put it, he was fulfilling the purpose of satisfying everyone. This was promising news. It meant I could potentially gain a lot through Noel.

Once I got outside, I could take care of business and wash away the discomfort that had been clinging to me. Just imagining it relieved some of my stress.

But instead of opening the main door, Cane pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked the metal door next to it with a click.

Behind the open metal door was the sight of a cozy bathroom. I could see a toilet and a tidy-looking bathtub.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react, staring blankly in that direction.

“What are you waiting for? You said you wanted to wash up.” Cane urged nonchalantly.

Slowly, anger began to rise within me. Here I was, faced with a bathroom that was so easily accessible, yet they had given me a chamber pot!

Behind that metal door, they had claimed it was a storage room!

I wanted to shout at Cane and demand an explanation, my frustration boiling over.

“…You said it was a storage room.”

“Did I?”

He spoke slowly, tilting his head with a mocking, innocent expression. It was infuriating. I had hoped for even a brief escape from this room, and now that hope was dashed.

“Are you going to wash up or not? If not, I’ll close the door.”

Without thinking, I quickly stepped down from the bed as Cane moved to close the door. There was a reason for the length of the chains, I realized now. I had often mocked the unnecessary length of the chains in this small room, wondering why they had to be so long when I could only move a little.

I rushed into the bathroom before Cane could change his mind.

The bathroom was small, but a large mirror on one wall made it seem relatively spacious. The tiles looked pristine as if they had never been used. The bright fluorescent light felt strangely foreign compared to the orange lighting in the room.

When I saw the gleaming white toilet and the shower head installed over the bath, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief, almost to the point of tears. The bathroom was stocked with towels and shampoo – everything I needed for a proper shower.

The absurdity of it all struck me. If I hadn’t convinced Noel, how long would they have kept the existence of this bathroom a secret from me?

I imagined that if I had waited too long and ended up using the chamber pot, they would have laughed at my embarrassment before finally showing me the bathroom. Cane was certainly the type to do that. If that had happened, my patience would have been completely exhausted.

A feeling of gratitude for Noel bubbled up inside me. I recognized it as an early sign of Stockholm Syndrome. Understanding the feeling didn’t diminish it. Knowing the nature of an emotion is very different from controlling it.

The sudden discovery of the bathroom momentarily eased the stabbing pain in my stomach that had been killing me.

I turned to close the bathroom door. Even though it wouldn’t shut completely because of the chain, I couldn’t possibly relieve myself with the door wide open.

“Leave the door open,”

Cane commanded casually, settling comfortably on the bed.

“Pardon?”

“The door. Leave it open.” he repeated.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t misheard him. I stood there, stunned.

“Cane…”

“I know what you could be doing in there?”

“What could I possibly do?”

“You could harm yourself, or even attempt to commit suicide.”

“I would never do that.”

I had many patients who had self-harmed and attempted suicide because of depression. Although my situation was indeed desperate and frightening, to harm myself would be the worst possible act – equivalent to losing my rationality and destroying a part of my brain.

I would never do that. I’d rather spend that time looking for solutions, even if I couldn’t guarantee how long I could stay strong. For now, I hadn’t given up hope. After all, I had somehow managed to convince Noel to let me use the toilet.

“Doctor, don’t make me say it twice. Noel might bend, but I won’t compromise with you.”

He murmured in a low voice.

Each person has a unique aura that seems to be an inherent part of them. In my encounters with many patients, I found their essence fascinating. But with Cane, it was terrifying. No matter how calm and composed I tried to be, an instinctive fear overwhelmed me.

Even when Cane was joking and acting casually, his deeper nature would inevitably show its teeth. His expressions, his gaze, and the situations he created left me completely immobile. I thought Theo and Noel would rein him in to prevent any reckless behavior, but I felt as frozen as someone who had come face to face-with a wild animal.