“You’ve poisoned this,” I whisper, my hand clutching my throat.
“What?” He frowns.
I lick my lips. “You’ve poisoned it,” I repeat. Reaching for the bottle of water, I rip the cap off and glug it down like I’ve been stuck in a desert for a month.
“Oh god,” I panic.
“It’s not poisoned,” he seethes.
I grab a piece of bread and hold it out to him. “Then you eat it,” I demand.
“No,” he refuses.
“If it’s not poisoned, then you eat it,” I challenge.
“No. Eat it, don’t eat it. I don’t give a shit,” he seethes.
I eye him suspiciously. “Whatever kind of psychology trick you’re trying to play on me by making me eat this poisoned food, it won’t work,” I argue.
His eyes flare, and his top lip curls. “You want to starve yourself, then fine, fucking starve yourself. It will save me the hassle of killing you myself,” he growls.
Frozen to the core with fear as I stare into his inhuman eyes, I forget how to breathe. Moving like liquid, he turns and leaves, slamming the door so hard behind him that the stone wall cracks.
My entire body is shaking, and my appetite hassuddenly vanished. This is a hard and terrifying reminder that this isn’t a game, and that my life is in the hands of these monsters.
Staring at the tray of food with longing, I wait and wonder if, in fact, I’ve been poisoned and am about to die.
“Surely I’m okay,” I mutter to myself. I don’t feel ill. It’s been a long while. In the movies, they always choke and die pretty quickly after being poisoned.
I sigh and shrug before reaching for the tray and starting to eat again. If they have poisoned me, then I guess I can die happy, eating cheese.
Once I’m full, I butter the last remaining bits of bread, wrap them in a sheet, and hide them under the bed. If they plan to starve me, I’ll have backup rations.
Sitting on the bed, I feel uneasy in this silence. The plain stone walls of this room will eventually make me go insane. Lying back, I stare at the ceiling.
“I hope you’re partying up there, Suzie. Laughing, dancing, and meeting the man of your dreams,” I whisper, my nose tingling as I fight back the tears. “Who will get me into trouble now?” I smile sadly. “If I make it out of here, that is.” I sigh. “I promise, if I getout of here, I will go to the police and make sure they get what they deserve.”
Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes as the pain of losing her surfaces. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the pain—the grief—down.
“Not now. Not. Fucking. Now,” I grit out.
The door swings open, taking me by surprise. I didn’t even hear them unlock it. The one who stood guard last night enters. I quickly sit up, wiping the tears from my eyes. I clear my throat and school my features.
“Your presence has been requested,” he says. Moving to the side, he gestures for me to walk ahead of him.
I get to my feet and slowly walk past him, eyeing him suspiciously. Once I’m out of the room, my eyes scan the hall, looking for another door, window, anything.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he states.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say casually, looking at him.
He smirks, rolling his hauntingly dark eyes. “You were looking for exits, and I’m telling you that wouldn’t be a good idea. You try to run, you will be hunted,” he warns.
His warning makes my breathing tremble.
Hunted. Not stopped or caught. Hunted. Like I’m their prey.
“I… I… I won’t. I don’t know where I am,” I say with a shrug.
