“Eat.”
I shift, folding my legs to one side. I pick up the plate and inspect the sandwiches. It’s hard to tell just by looking whether they contain nuts.
I glance at him. “Does it have nuts?”
He raises a brow. He does that whenever he has a question. I guess moving facial muscles is easier for him than using his tongue. He seems to find speaking particularly difficult.
“I’m allergic to nuts,” I tell him, hoping this doesn’t make him question my identity as Avira Bennett.
The chances he knows Avi has a cousin with a nut allergy—one who also looks like her—are slim. If he knew that much, he wouldn’t have been fooled by me.
“There are none,” he replies coldly.
I don’t waste another second. I grab a sandwich and take a massive bite. It’s an avocado salmon sandwich. Delicious. For a moment, my problems cease to exist, leaving just me, my sandwich, and my empty stomach.
After two nights, my stomach finally has something solid in it. I’m in a state of pure bliss. But even in this moment of relief, I’m not alone. My sadistic captor’s gray eyes are also here, fixed on me. No matter how hard you try, you can’t ignore someone watching you from less than three feet away like you’re an animal in a circus—which isn’t very far from my current condition.
I silently pray for God to send this monster away. I need to rest. He can torture me again in a few hours.
Miraculously, God listens.
After watching me until I finish my food, he gets up from his chair and leaves the room. I stay there for another minute, then walk out as well.
There’s no one near the dining room, so I decide to explore. Maybe I’ll find a way out. When my aunt was kidnapped, she found a back door and escaped. She onlymade it farther because Uncle arrived and blew up the boundary wall. Otherwise, they would have caught her.
A few corridors from the dining room, I spot windows and a massive door—the main entrance, I think, to this maze of a mansion.
I glance around, then sprint for it. There’s a solid chance I won’t be able to escape, but trying won’t hurt. Maybe I’ll succeed like Aunt. Maybe I’ll step outside and Dad will be there, waiting for me.
I pull open the massive doors and stagger back as freezing air slams into me. Snow blankets everything outside. The wind is so sharp I can barely keep my eyes open. Even if I tried to run, I’d get hypothermia within minutes.
I close the door again—like a good girl—and move toward the windows to look outside instead.
I’m ninety percent sure I’m in Antarctica. The other ten percent says somewhere near it.
There’s only a faint blue-gray glow outside. Doesn’t look anything like eleven a.m., which is what I saw on the clock.
All I can see are birch trees, stripped bare like skeletons, snow piled on their branches. If there are plants beneath, they’re buried. Snow covers everything.
In the distance—maybe a kilometer out—walls rise faintly through the fog.
Escaping from here is impossible.
I watch the wind carry sheets of snow for a while, then turn to go back in.
I jump the moment I turn.
He’s standing right there.
I steady myself and jerk my thumb over my shoulder.
“I was just looking around. Not trying to escape.” I force a small chuckle. “This place is so warm and wonderful, I can’t imagine leaving.”
His expression doesn’t change. So I shut my mouth.
After another awkward minute standing there like a caught thief, I slowly slide sideways.
“I have mopping business to attend to,” I mumble, brushing past him and hurrying inside.
