Chapter 6
The night dragged on. Not even the moonlight could cheer me up.
My arms and neck were hurting, and my stomach was rumbling.
Grayson hadn’t brought up any food and I was panicking about how long I would have to go without it.
He also hadn’t given me anything to drink.
My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth.
By the time the sun came up, I wanted to cry from the gods damned thirst. I kept my mind busy with fantasies of escaping and seeing my family again, seeing their happy faces.
And seeing the people in this cabin behind bars.
The crow visited me again. He took one look at me, flew off and returned with a worm. My heart squeezed at that. This beautiful creature had more humanity than the people in this house. At least I wasn’t alone anymore. I had someone who cared.
When Grayson finally came into the room, my feelings ranged from ecstatic to miserable at the same time. He had a glass of water, but no food. I drank it greedily. Water had never tasted so good. Yet, it somehow made the hunger pangs worse.
“No pancakes?” I tried to act nonchalantly, but my stomach grumbling loudly gave me away.
He frowned down at me, the muscles in his jaw flexing while untying the ropes. “You have five minutes.”
The tension releasing from my neck and shoulders as my arms dropped had tears prickling my eyes.
I swiftly moved to the bathroom before he could see me cry.
Once the door was closed, I let it all out, soundlessly sobbing.
The door opened again, and I splashed my face with water a few times to hide my red eyes and take the time to compose myself.
I gulped down some more water while I had the chance.
I felt his eyes on me the whole time. While drying my face, he threw something at me, and I caught it just before it hit my chest. It was a hairbrush.
Should I thank him? I reminded myself of what happened the last time I was rude to him. “Thank you,” I said, but couldn’t look him in the eyes when I said it.
Grayson, once again, didn’t answer me. He just leaned against the door and watched me comb my hair.
He unnerved me. “So, no food and no privacy then,” I stated. I dared a glance towards him, hoping I didn’t set him off again.
He was still watching me with knitted brows. What was he thinking? He sighed in annoyance and lowered his gaze to his watch. “One minute.” He closed the bathroom door.
Asshole.
I worked as fast as I could, trying to get out as many knots as possible in the little time I had left, which wasn’t much. The muscles in my arms were aching so bad, I had to stop at every second brush stroke to lower them.
“Time’s up,” he shouted from the bedroom, and my composure started slipping.
Would I survive another day tied to that bed?
I was slowly but surely losing my mind. As I walked through the door, I found him sitting on the windowsill again, staring out.
It struck me how handsome he was. What had happened to him that made him so dark, so horrid?
Children don’t start out evil. Evil was made.
“Could I have a few more minutes? Just to stretch my body a bit?” I hoped. He did bring me a brush when I asked for it.
“No,” he answered flatly without looking my way.
My throat started to close up, and I tried to swallow the lump down. “Well, can you at least tie me up differently so my arms could get a break?”
“No.” He stood then and waited for me to get back on the bed.
I bristled. What an appalling man. I slowly made my way onto the bed. He lifted my hands above my head, and I flinched as the pain shot through my arms. “So, is this how you’re killing me? Tying me to this bed and starving me to death?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” was all he said before he left.
The hours before dark were excruciating. No number of daydreams about escaping or my family could save my mind from the horrible hunger I felt. I called for him, screamed and cursed at him, but he never came. No one did.
When Grayson finally opened the door, I sobbed loudly.
He made his way around the bed and sat next to me.
He wiped my tears away as I fell apart. I had never been so glad to see someone, to feel a kind touch.
But I also never loathed anyone as much as I did him.
I wanted to lean into his touch but also spit in his face.
“Please,” I rasped through the tears. How many times have I uttered that word to this man? Look where it got me. Tied to a bed, being starved to death.
“Are you going to apologise?” he said while stroking my hair softly.
Another sob racked through my body. He had won and he knew it. He had broken me.
“I’m sorry,” I cried, “for wasting food.”
“And?”
“And for spilling it over you.”
“And?”
“For being rude to you.” I had no idea if that is what he wanted to hear, but he nodded his head.
“Will you ever waste food again?”
I shook my head. If the point he wanted to make was that food was a precious commodity, then he sure made it.
“Good girl. How about we start over, hmm?” He stood and left the room before I could answer, making me panic. But he came back. With pancakes. I started crying again.
He cut the pancakes in pieces and speared some with a fork, bringing it to my mouth.
I was a weakling, a pathetic human being, as I took a bite.
Tears were streaming down my face. I had just sold my soul to this man for a pancake.
He was smiling down at me, pleased as I took another bite.
I had never wanted to harm a living thing before, but this man—I wanted to kill him.
Every fibre in my being wanted to see him dead.
I had always thought myself incapable of killing someone, but in this moment, I knew the truth.
I would kill this man slowly and laugh while doing it.
After Grayson fed me, he untied me to use the bathroom. It seemed like it would become a ritual to lose my composure in the bathroom, so I wouldn’t lose my mind on that bed. This time he hadn’t come looking for me after five minutes were up. I did all I had to do in the bathroom before walking out.
He was sitting on the windowsill again, just staring out. He looked at home there. Like he had sat there a million times before.
I busied myself with tidying the room. Getting back on that bed felt impossible.
Not without going crazy. And there was nothing else I could do.
I was very conscious of him sitting there.
But he didn’t seem to trouble himself with me.
He just kept staring out that window. When there was nothing left to do, I went to sit on the opposite side of the bed and sat on the floor with my back against the bedside table.
“What’s your name?” He still didn’t look at me.
I wasn’t going to tell him. He had no right to say my name. “Persephone,” I answered instead.
Grayson chuckled, then stood. “Fine, don’t tell me.” He strolled to the door. “And don’t try to escape tonight. There’s a storm coming.”
I rolled my eyes. I had known that since yesterday.
The storm hit hard. The wind howled eerily around the cabin, making the large bedroom window rattle.
I hoped the crow was okay. The shutter door at the front slammed and slammed, until someone presumably got fed up with the noise and stopped it.
I have always enjoyed the sound of rain falling on the roof.
It was calming, cozy. But tonight, it echoed my misery.
I missed my mom and dad. I missed Rachel and I missed the quiet of my little shop on Main Street after closing time.
I missed my life. The ache was dull and constant in my chest. I wanted so badly to go home.
I wanted to pretend that none of this was happening, that I never went to the bank, and that these people had never laid eyes on me. I wanted to wipe them from my existence and never think of them again.
I was wondering why he left me untied when the power went out. I laid in bed, listening to the sounds around me. It was pitch black and I found solace in it. The darkness hid me. And it also hid this wretched room from me. I could pretend I was elsewhere.
It took me a little longer to notice the creaking floorboards.
I had turned on my side and pretended to be asleep as Grayson walked into the room, holding two lanterns.
He placed one of them onto the dresser before walking over to me.
I shut my eyes tight, listening carefully.
He brushed a strand of my hair from my face, and it took every ounce of self-control not to recoil from his touch.
I laid perfectly still as his fingers traced over my cheek, down my neck, over the curve of my shoulder and down my arm.
He was careful not to touch the cut on my upper arm.
“You’re very bad at pretending to sleep.” His fingers were gliding back up my arm over the trail of goosebumps he’d left.
I kept my eyes shut. Was he bullshitting? Did he really know I was awake? Why was he touching me like this?
“What happened to ‘don’t touch me’?” He pressed his finger over the cut on my arm, making me wince. He laughed under his breath.
I kept my eyelids shut, too embarrassed to look at him. “I’m keeping my eyes closed because if I can’t see you, there’s a chance you might be dead. Like Schrodinger’s cat.”
He laughed again. “That’s not exactly how it works.”
I knew that. “Pleasant thought though.”
“And here I thought you were warming up to me.”
“And why would I do that?” I opened my eyes to glare at him.
“Because I’m trying to be nice. I’m also really handsome.” I could see his smirk in the dim lantern light.
The mom and little girl came to mind. Yes, he hadn’t been nice to them. “Will you be nice and let me go then?” Was I crossing a boundary? The last thing I wanted was to set him off again. But I had to ask.