When he stops at the bedroom door, I hold my breath all over again. Then he steps through into the room, and I don’t know if I want to weep with relief or shake harder than ever with fear. It’s damn eerie, the way he doesn’t speak. I can’t even get a sense of whether he’s angry or not. Whether this is just another game.
He doesn’t put me down until we reach the bathroom. He sets me on my feet, then turns to the shower without a word and reaches inside to run the water. What the hell? He thinks I’m going to shower with him after all of this? I probably shouldn’t put up a fight, since I could use one, but I would rather rot than let him touch me again.
That’s not what he’s come for, as it turns out. All he does is step back without a word, then leave me alone with the shower still running.
Pride is one thing, but I’m in desperate need, if only to wash away the memory of Selina grabbing me like she did. I can’t erase what happened, but I can at least wash her off me. The first drops of water to hit my bare skin are a gift. I close my eyes and let it run over my hair and my skin, trembling with relief, lettingthe warmth seep into my stiff joints until they start to loosen. It takes a little time of me standing completely still before I bother picking up the mesh sponge and scrubbing my skin like I can scrub away the fear and confusion, the frustration and rage. I wish that was possible, but I know better. I’ve spent my whole life enraged, ignored. I can’t even say I was misunderstood, since Dad never tried to understand me in the first place. Why would he? I was never worth it.
And here I am again, back where I started. The worst part is knowing how much better Liam thinks he is than Dad. He holds himself so superior, like he isn’t the same bankrupt soul wrapped in different flesh. That’s all he is, but he’ll never understand that. Whatever helps him sleep at night, I guess.
My scalp stings, no matter how gently I lather my hair. Just another reminder of Selina’s viciousness. But that will go away, like the pain in my knees will, like the pain from Dad’s punishments always did. It never lasted forever.
What stays is the memory. The bitterness. It’s eating me up inside, like always, burning a hole through me. He believed her without bothering to ask questions. He had the nerve to act like I was the problem when I wouldn’t give him the answers he suddenly decided he felt like asking for. And now, I guess I’m supposed to be grateful that I’m allowed to wash myself. He probably expects me to thank him. I’d rather choke on my own tongue.
My fingers are starting to prune by the time I’m finished. Sliding open the shower door, I reach for a towel and wrap myself in its softness, letting myself soak in a little extra comfort after spending so long in that miserable cell. I see now, looking through the steamed-up window, that it’s fully dark outside. There’s no way this is the same day. He must’ve kept me in there overnight.
Why did he pull me out now? This is a new kind of torture. All the questions, wondering what his next move is going to be, whether he’s furious with me or just decided I’ve been through enough.
At some point, while I was washing, he left a folded pair of pajamas sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. It’s unnerving, the way he can walk around so silently. Just one more thing to keep me on edge. I pull them on after drying off, and I can’t help but sigh when the soft cotton touches my skin. The simplest pleasures mean so much more after spending what felt like forever without the first clue what was happening or when it would end.
I can’t stay in here forever. I’m weak with exhaustion, swaying on my feet until I have to grab for the edge of the sink or hit the floor. I don’t even have it in me to dry my hair. I settle for rubbing the towel through it until it’s only damp, then brushing it out with a trembling hand before forcing myself to return to the bedroom.
He’s waiting, sitting up in bed, with a bowl in his hand. “You didn’t eat, so I made you this.”
He must really think I’m an idiot if he thinks I’ll accept all of this without question. What is the game this time? Why did he put me through all this if he was only going to set me free again?
I could scream at myself as I cross the room slowly, like I’m waiting for something to jump out at me. When I get close, I realize the bowl is filled with yogurt, granola, and fresh fruit. My stomach growls, twisting painfully with hunger.
The last thing I want to do is accept anything from him, but I’m so fucking hungry that I swallow my pride and take the dish. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I take the spoon sticking out of the yogurt and start eating.
I finish the food quickly, reminding myself that I’m not free. There’s no such thing as freedom around here. I can’t afford tothink of it that way. That’s how people wind up falling for their captors. That’s not going to be me.
My body’s exhaustion gives me no choice but to place the empty dish onto the nightstand and crawl into bed. I could weep—it’s so comfortable before I’ve even lain down. I need to be careful now, maybe more careful than ever. He could be doing all of this to make me grateful to him. Like I’ll let down my guard and trust him more, all because he let me sleep in a bed. I have to be smart.
I have to get out of here.It’s the thought that pounds with every beat of my heart as I settle back against the thick, firm pillows I missed so much on that damn cot. I would love to burn it. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at me. I might as well not be here. If only that were true. I can’t shake the feeling of being in bed with a poisonous snake as I pull the blankets up, getting comfortable. I don’t think it would be possible to get truly comfortable in this situation—I’m too alert, waiting for whatever is coming next. Still, I’m better off than I was.
Liam walks around the bed and lies down. He reaches over to the nightstand and turns out the light. I can still make him out from the glow of his phone. How long is it going to be like this?
“Are you really not going to say anything?” I finally break down and ask in a soft voice.
“You’re the one who didn’t want to talk, remember?” He glances my way before scoffing quietly.
“Still, here I am, right? What does that mean?” Maybe I shouldn’t poke the snake. He could strike any second, the way Selina did. I have to know. I’m not going to lie here all night wondering. “Did you finally figure out I didn’t do anything to hurt her?” Because I am not going to say her name. It would probably choke me.
He takes a sharp breath but doesn’t look my way. He only turns over to leave his phone on the nightstand. When he does,the faint light still coming from the screen is just bright enough that I catch sight of fresh gauze taped over his wound. I guess he must have applied it himself, unless he had one of his guards do it. I don’t know why I care. I guess my mind needs something to latch onto, and this is as good as anything.
“Is it true, what the doctor said when he was stitching you up?” It’s easier to ask questions like that in the dark. “Did you get hurt a lot when you were younger?”
His heavy sigh tells me he’s not in the mood to talk. It makes my heart sink before he surprises me by speaking. “Yes. I had to fight like hell to survive sometimes. There was a point in my life when it was me against the world. You know,” he adds, “since I didn’t have my family anymore.”
He says it like it was my fault. Like I took them away from him. “Were you living on the street?”
I know the answer before he gives it. It’s in the way he hesitates. Maybe he doesn’t want to think about it, but that’s too damn bad. He has gone out of his way to humiliate me, to scare me. I’m not going to tiptoe around his feelings now.
“For a while.”
“How did you get out of that?”
“Why are you asking me so many questions?”
