38: Future Alpha Cato's Request

Solitary has never intimidated me. But here. Here it’s terrifying. Nerves make my mind race and my body react. My stomach growls with imaginary hunger. My throat turns dry and scratchy. My bladder acts up even. All the things that could be easily taken away from me. Food, water and something as stupid as using a bathroom.

I hold out as long as possible. How long that is, who knows. But sooner rather than later, I need to pee. “Cato. I know you can hear me,” you fucking asshole, “Cato.” My fists bang against the door. How I would love to piss on everything Tariq and Cato own, I don’t want to be stuck smelling it. “Cato.”

Nothing. Silence. Grumbling under my breath, I slam my palm against the door one last time before retreating. Slumping down onto the bed, I try to get my mind to focus on something else other than needing to pee. Mind over matter, right?

The fact that he’s ignoring me is what bothers me the most. Does he not realize how hard it is for me to call out for him, to purpose