Looking up from my plate, I realized his knuckles were white on his fork, and he looked like he was about to stab something…or someone. I knew that look, so I pushed back from the table to get out of range. I knew my eyes were as big as saucers and shifting from his hand to his eyes and back again. Fear must have been radiating off me in waves.
He looked startled when I moved, then noticed where my eyes were looking and dropped the fork onto his plate. Slowly rising from his chair, he approached me cautiously, like you would a skittish animal, then gently placed his calloused hands on either side of my neck so I would raise my eyes to his.
“Worthy, I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, and I mean it. I believe you. I don’t think you’re lying to me, but I need to find out for certain how much the bastard has lied to me. This has never happened to me before, and I’m not sure what to do. But I want you to know I’m sorry. I can see how you’re moving, and I know you must be in pain. I’ve never hurt an innocent person, and I don’t know what to do other than take care of you.”
He pointed to the plates on the table and continued, “I cooked you a meal because I noticed you ate like shit. You ate macaroni and cheese with canned tuna, for fuck’s sake. I’ve decided you need someone to take care of all your needs right now, and I’m going to do that. We’ll have our talk later. As for now, I’m going to give you some pain killers and let you get a good night’s sleep. Does that sound okay to you?”
He was caressing my neck softly with his thumbs, and it felt nice, but I was too tired to process this situation tonight. I didn’t have it in me to deal with the whiplash of this man’s emotions from kidnapper to killer to caretaker? Who the fuck was the real one?
I was beyond exhausted and hurt too bad to think about it, so I just nodded. That was all the effort I could afford tonight. If he turned into Mr. Hyde in the middle of the night, at least I would have had a good meal, painkillers, and a soft bed before I died. I could be happy with that.
He was good to his word. He helped me hobble to the guest room, helped me get into some fresh sleep pants, keeping my sweatshirt on at my request. I crawled into the bed and sank into the softest mattress and a mound of pillows I’d ever felt. My captor then brought me a bottle of over the counter pills and a large glass of water. After opening the bottle myself—I appreciated him giving me that power—I took a couple pills, draining the glass, and settled into the pillows. That was when he actually tucked the covers in around me and turned the bedside lamp off for me so I wouldn’t have to move. Just one more action I could not process.
“Goodnight, Worthy. You sleep as long as you want and let me know if you need anything. We’ll talk about everything when you’re feeling better. I promise you’ll be safe here.”
He turned the top lights off as he left the room and closed the door. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed that he had left the light in the bathroom on with the door cracked so I’d know how to get to it in the night. It was a nice thought.
This man’s mixed messages were going to kill me, if he didn’t do it himself. The pills started to work fast, and as the pain receded, I felt sleep overtaking my thoughts. For some reason, the thought that he went through all this trouble only to poison me struck me as funny. Even after everything that had happened today, all the pain and then the tender care, for the second time since I’d met him, this insane man had made me fall asleep smiling. My last thought before I went under was maybe I was crazy, too.
