My muscles feel stiff, but functional.
My throat is dry from the cold air.
Yet, low energy is also something I can’t deny.
I need some food and water.
“Here’s food and water, asshole.” Just like I ordered. The fucker used my disorientation to his advantage because I didn’t hear him coming into the room. I can’t even stand up, I need to conserve energy. Emin starts walking toward me and sets the tray down.
The food looks pathetic: one sandwich with one piece of salami and a glass of water. Just enough to keep me alive and alert. Butbeggars can’t be choosers. I eat the sandwich and slowly drink the glass of water. Once I’m done, Emin starts talking, standing before me, arms crossed.
“Where is your father?” he asks me. Not this fucking shit again. I want to get angry, but I make it impossible for myself to do so. I need to. So I shake my head.
Emin stays neutral and doesn’t fucking move. “Where is your father?”
“I don’t fucking know.” This asshole really doesn’t understand that I don’t know where my father is. But why does he want to know? Emin sees that I’m thinking about something.
“Your father made the Sweet Snatcher follow her.”
Her.Lana.
His tone is detached, with no emotion. I start shaking my head more because I can’t believe this shit. Why did my father have that pervert follow my little hummingbird?
“I need to know where your father is so my master can know.”Lana’s father.
“Stop fucking around. I don’t fucking know where my father is.” My voice is strained, with barely controlled anger. Emin stands up, goes outside the room, and locks the door behind him. Once he is gone, more cold air starts blowing into the room.
Fuck.
63
MNo.
No.
No.
“Day three.”
The shivering has decreased because I am exhausted. I’m dozing off every few minutes for only a couple of seconds. I feel cold to the bone, and hunger hits hard.
I don’t even register that Emin is standing before me again.
“What are you blabbering about?” I shake my head slightly as I can’t muster much strength.
“I’m going to ask you this one more time.” He takes a deep breath. “Where is your father?” A new tidal wave of exhaustion hits me because of that fucking idiotic question. Why are they so hell-bent on my father?
“Since you haven’t talked for over four minutes, I take it that you don’t have an answer.” I see some footsteps going away from me.
“Be ready for tomorrow.” And he is gone.
“Lana. Lana. Lana. Lana,” I repeat over and over. I call out her name before I doze off to sleep again.
64
MMy head is spinning. I’m feeling something I haven’t felt in days.
A bit of rest.
