Thirteen #3
“I know. I know you will. Because you want to be what everyone wants, don’t you?”
“I . . .” I move my face away from him, shifting my gaze to the ground. “I keep thinking if I am, I’ll feel better about myself and like I belong somewhere, but I rarely ever do.”
“Doesn’t mean you never will, and you did say rarely, so that means it’s not impossible.”
Does he seriously think he and this place will fall into that rare category?
I miss my bed, my nightly hot showers, and the ability to eat whenever the fuck I want.
There are also things I’m happy to do without here, though.
No random calls or visits from Hayden and the others.
No living under my dad’s roof or needing a reason to make him proud of me.
He won’t see it or know, and it’s actually making me feel less heavy inside.
No worrying about securing job after job so I can save money to leave town again.
For all I know I’m far away, with no one aware of my location.
It feels like I am. And then I think of Logan.
I always randomly think of him lately, but more so right now because I’m not ready to give up on having him forgive me again.
As long as I’m here I won’t have that chance, and this man could do more than toss me aside when he’s done. What if he kills me?
“If you want me to belong here so badly, does that mean you won’t be killing me?”
“Killing you?” He sighs, standing taller. “No. I’m not a killer. I told you what my intentions were and I meant it.”
“You did?” I run all our interactions through my mind and not one links up with what he says.
“I want to save you from continuing to make the wrong decisions,” he says, and the memory plays in my mind the way a movie would.
Except I’m the main character, unable to walk away from what’s playing in front of me. If I can be good enough for him to remove the one chain keeping me trapped in this barn, will I be able to make my escape? “What decisions are those?”
“You not knowing is the reason I need to show you.”
“When you’re done showing me, will you let me go?” My voice echoes.
“Only if you truly want me to, and I’m not so sure you will, but who knows, you might prove me wrong. Do you want to?”
“Do I want to what?
“Prove me wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll let you figure it out, then.” Grabbing my hand, he slides two boiled eggs into it. “Here. So you can have a better taste of what you’ll get when you make me proud.”
“So you’re not going to kill me?” I ask again, looking closer into his eyes and securing my fingers around the food so it can’t be taken from me again.
“No,” he says sharply.
“What about . . .” I sit up, my eyes lowering to my groin. “You know, hurting me in other ways.”
“What do you mean? I can’t give you a proper answer if you’re not clear with your words. You’re only getting away with talking now because I want you to get all your questions out. It’ll help you commit better to your roles tomorrow.”
“Are you going to . . .” I bite my lip and start again. “Are you a rapist?”
“No. I don’t want you like that, and even if I did, I’d never touch anyone unless we both wanted it.”
A heavy weight settles on my chest. Am I really getting bent out of shape by my captor feeling zero desire for me?
There are many things to be bothered by, but that shouldn’t be one.
Being here is. Him treating me as a pig is.
But he also doesn’t want me like that. He doesn’t want me.
I let him down, and the uselessness I felt at home is happening here too, and it’s supposed to be my only positive.
My bright side is to keep going. I bite the inside of my cheeks, hard enough to taste blood, so I can distract myself from the insane thoughts in my head.
“Okay,” I finally say, bowing my head and sinking my teeth into the boiled eggs. I go back for more after the first bite, my stomach begging for more when the first swallow doesn’t ease my hunger pains.
“I’ll let you eat and sleep now.” How long is he going to continue carrying that device around?
Will he ever use his real voice? I almost forget I’m talking to a real person and not some machine or character in a video game.
Not that I play those, but I would if it meant making a choice between them and grunting to earn more food.
“Thank you for the food and the blanket.”
“You’re welcome. It’s nice to see that the times you’re not my little piglet you’re capable of manners. I like hearing them, too, so maybe we’ll switch off and on tomorrow. We’ll see. Goodnight.”
“Night,” I say back before nibbling at more of my food.
He makes his way down the ladder, and as soon as he’s fully out of sight I devour what’s left in my hand before lifting the water bowl to my face to chase down the bits of egg catching in my dry throat. It’s so quiet, there’s not even a chicken or pig making a peep outside the barn.
No shifting sounds from the roof or creaks from the structure. Only loud silence that’s almost worse than my dad’s screams. Almost.