Chapter Eleven - Elise #2
Tripp takes a step back to watch me for a few moments, assessing my work before leaving to do his own.
I let myself get caught up in what I’m doing, rarely even remembering where I am or the fact that I have a giant shadow at all times.
That’s how cooking has always been for me—a way to relax and take my mind off the world.
It was also the only way I ever participated in my family’s work. I cooked for every family dinner meeting from the time I was fifteen until I moved out. I even tried to go back with my security team once a month to cook for everyone, but my father wouldn’t allow it.
I never did tell him how much that hurt. Instead, I went along with whatever he asked of me to pacify him.
I can hardly be mad, though, since the one time I openly disobeyed him ended with me being drugged and kidnapped.
I’m grateful to find that my time passes in a blur. Even though no one is talking to me, I still appreciate the normalcy of being surrounded by others. The chattering and bustling are comforting, which I recognize as both a good and dangerous fact.
Once I’ve finished the work Tripp gave me, I turn and search for Ryder, easily finding the large man leaning against the counter a few yards away. His eyes meet mine, and he comes my way.
“Where is the restroom?”
His response is to wordlessly lead me out of the kitchen and into the main hall.
Ryder takes a left, opposite of the direction that we came, and I’m on high alert for an exit strategy.
The remaining hallway is short, with four doors lining the right side and two on the left.
The four doors appear to be storage units, and the two are what I assume to be bathrooms. Ryder walks until he reaches the door farthest from the kitchen.
Opening it, he gestures for me to enter.
It’s embarrassing enough to have him follow me around, but opening the bathroom door is a new level of humiliation.
I rush past him and lock the door, enjoying the moment of privacy. I once again see my room as a haven instead of a prison.
I survey the one-stall bathroom. The sink and countertop are made of marble, and the walls are painted a dark red, which seems to be a common theme around the base.
A small curtain above the toilet catches my attention.
Within seconds, I’m standing on top of the toilet, peeling back the curtain to reveal a window.
I can barely believe my eyes. Not only am I looking at a window, but I’m looking at a window with a latch and no screen. The view from here doesn’t face inside the complex like the garden window in my room. Instead, it shows a wall of trees.
This is it—my way out.
If I pick the right time, I can use this window to escape.
I close the curtain and climb down, not wanting to make Ryder suspicious of how long I take. I quickly do my business, wash my hands, and unlock the door. As Ryder and I walk back into the kitchen, I’m careful to keep my face neutral, but inside, I’m screaming with joy.
“Where the hell did you go?”
We’ve just reentered the kitchen when a glaring Tripp approaches me.
I gesture to the door. “Bathroom break. I finished the work you gave me.”
“While you’re in this kitchen, you report to me. Ask permission next time,” he growls.
I’m all too aware that everyone has stopped what they’re doing to watch our confrontation.
I’ve become used to swallowing my pride when it comes to Joshua, but for some reason, the idea of doing the same with Tripp makes me sick.
I’m about to come back at him with a witty remark when I imagine Joshua’s face in my head.
Making Tripp angry could result in me not working here anymore, which I can’t afford.
Especially now that I have a way to escape.
I need to play nice.
Bile creeps up my throat as I speak the words he needs to hear. “I will be sure to ask next time. What would you like me to do now?”
Tripp’s lips tilt in a smug grin, and I want to grimace at the sight, but my pride won’t allow me to sacrifice more than I already have.
“You’re going to unpack and organize the shelves.” Tripp leads me toward the storage room and shows me where to put each item.
I’m tempted to mention—once again—that this isn’t cooking, but without Joshua here, it seems silly to piss off Tripp. I follow his instructions, and after a few minutes, he decides that I’m ready to do it on my own.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of mixing, chopping, and organizing. I even made food for Ryder and myself during my lunch break and was surprised that we were able to sit in comfortable silence.
When Tripp informs me that my shift is over, I wash my hands and follow Ryder out.
The journey back to my room is uneventful. The hallways are a ghost town, and I’m too tired to calculate escape routes. Besides, the bathroom window is a solid plan for now.
When we get to my room, Ryder enters the code, and I don’t even try to look. The door opens, and Ryder hands me the to-go box that I assume is my dinner. I barely eat before collapsing on the bed.
I’m thoroughly exhausted, but I don’t mind the soreness that seems to resonate with every muscle in my body. It’s refreshing after so long of doing nothing productive.
It’s barely dark out by the time my eyelids are fluttering closed, and I don’t fight the pull of sleep.
The nightmares are relentless, but instead of pocket knives and switches, there are meat grinders, pans, and utensils. It seems my mind can weaponize just about anything.
Unfortunately, this has opened up a whole new avenue of torture for my nightmares to explore, resulting in one more restless night.