Fifteen #2
“Because when I’m not here, you’re a piglet, and piglets don’t get a say in those types of things.
” He lowers the bucket. I’ve noticed he isn’t holding the voice changer but continues to use it.
It’s hiding under his clothes or mask. Maybe attached somehow.
What does it matter, this asshole is fucking watching me.
A weird tingly sensation curls inside me.
He wants to see me all the time. He needs more of me than what he gets when he’s here physically.
I shake myself out of my twisted thoughts.
This is so fucked. All of it. But the tingles keep coming the longer his eyes stay on me, and when he leans down to stroke my cheek, a light turns on inside me.
I haven’t been touched in so long, and his black glove doesn’t feel so rough this time.
I stiffen when I find myself leaning more into his palm, and I pull away.
“I want a bath now,” I say quickly.
His lips slant. “It has been a week, hasn’t it?”
I give a gentle nod and lift my shirt. Shaking his head, his fingers wrap around my wrist to stop me. “In the morning. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
Growing too bold for my own good, I ask, “Where do you go when you’re not here? Do you have a family or a job?” Is he out living life with friends while I’m trapped in here, entertaining myself with good memories and single person games?
“Why is that important for you to know?”
“Just starting conversation. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”
“Fair enough. I was working.” My captor straightens his posture, putting space between us.
I can’t help but notice how big the gap is, putting him closer to the door.
The one he’ll soon walk out of to leave me alone for hours, and who knows when it’ll open again.
When I’ll have another person here to ask questions.
“What do you do?”
His lips press in a thin line, and then he says, “You know I won’t tell you that.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try anyway.” I blow out a breath and he lets out a short laugh.
“No . . . not this time at least.” What would his tone be like if he didn’t use that stupid robotic shit to hide it? Would there be seriousness or humor laced in it? Is hearing it something I have to earn?
“So, you work a lot?”
“Yeah. Between my main job and the farm, I don’t have much time to spare. Any time I do have, I—”
“Spend on me,” I finish for him.
“Yes.” He rocks on his heels, crossing his hands in front of him. “That and sleeping.”
“Do you eat alone?”
His breaths are shallow. “Lately, yes.”
“Lately?”
“I think that’s enough questions for the day.”
He turns around and I shout, “Wait. I’m sorry if I asked another wrong question. Stay a little longer, please?”
Lowering his head, he stays where he is and then nods. “Okay, but only for ten more minutes.” Those deep blue eyes are back on me when he turns around.
“Why do you want to spend the small amount of time you get on me?”
“Because.” He takes a breath. “It’ll be worth it in the end.
” All I hear is you’ll be worth it. “Most things that need improvement . . .” he starts again, pausing as the intensity of his stare increases.
“Require lots of care and effort. I admit I need to do better when it comes to my part, but I’m learning too. We’re teaching each other, in a sense.”
“Like we both have something to offer to the other?”
“I guess you can say that.”
“I’ll only end up ruining it. It happens with everything. I’m never good at anything I try to do.”
He quickly cups my chin, catching me off guard. “That’s not true. You can’t ruin anything if you truly try. There will be mishaps, but you’ll only keep getting better as you progress. As you learn from your mistakes. We all have to do that.”
My fingers curl in my lap. “But I can’t. It never worked for me.” My chest heaves and I swallow the emotion in my throat. “I can’t do anything right. Not ever.” My eyes water, and he catches the first tear that falls with his finger.
“Oh, piglet. Is that what others told you?” He wipes at my cheek again. “That won’t be true this time around. Not with me. Because you want to be good to earn more privileges, right? You want to help me help you, don’t you?”
I nod, not meaning to. I don’t think I do. “I’m sorry.” I back away.
“For what?” His eyes squint.
“For crying. I know I’m only making a scene and crying is for babies. I’m sorry,” I say again, repressing more tears.
He frowns, reaching for me again. Before his finger can come into contact with my cheek, he takes off one of his gloves and rubs the tip of his thumb under my eye.
The skin?to?skin contact feels good. So much softer than the glove.
So much like Logan’s hands. But it’s not him.
What’s he doing while I’m here? Happy I’m gone? Relieved I’m no longer a problem?
Why am I focused on that when my captor is witnessing one of my weaknesses. Seeing the proof of how pathetic I am. Does he see now? I’m not good at being strong either, because I’m not good at anything. I can’t handle the smallest task.
“Stop crying,” I hear my dad’s voice say, so loud, it rings in my ears.
“Hey . . . look at me. Many strong people cry. The strongest of people. Showing vulnerability and emotion isn’t a weakness. It’s better to let it out than hold it in.”
I blink up at him, shoulders dropping. All tension in my body follows behind it when the sincerity shows in his eyes. “You don’t care if I cry?”
“No. I actually prefer it. I can tell you’re not putting on an act when you do. Like you’re actually letting your true self out instead of what you think you need to be. This is you. Let it out. Don’t hide it.”
“Okay.” I sniff.
Drawing a breath, he backs away again and looks behind him. “It’s time for bed now, and it’s been way over ten minutes.”
Forcing a smile, I scoot back to the soft parts of hay, gathering my blanket around me. “Would it be . . . is it too much for me to ask for a radio? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”
Lips tightening, he scrubs at his jaw. “I might be able to do that. We’ll see in a week if you’ve been good enough to earn it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, scooting closer to the space heater. “Thank you for staying.”
“Sure. And thank you for using your manners. See how good you can be? Nothing is unattainable.” He steps one foot forward to pat me on the head. “See you in the morning, piglet.”
That’s my cue to stop playing human, and I do, oinking as I burrow myself under the blanket. His eyes glow in satisfaction and there’s a hint of pride there. I welcome it. Because I want to hold on to that good side of him whenever I do something to summon the bad.
When he turns around again, I don’t stop him from going down the ladder and walking out the door.
Instead, I stay quiet, shutting my eyes and telling myself to be good during my bath, so I’ll get more human privileges at night and more of his company.
Because when he was talking to me, I didn’t have to hear the unwanted voices in my head.
Doesn’t mean I want to hear him, he was just much more prefered today.
His words were. He said the strongest people cry and I was worth the effort.
He said I helped him and that I can’t ruin anything.
Either way, I’m a prisoner. Except I felt more trapped in my old life than I do here.
My stomach rolls and I open my walls to remember why this isn’t better.
I’m lying on prickly hay in a non?insulated cold barn.
I’m fed from a fucking pig feeder and drinking water from a bowl.
I have to get out of here. That needs to be my goal.
Not being his perfect piglet and polite, patient human.
But those things will most likely be the ticket to my freedom, won’t they? So I’m doing it for me. Not him.
“For me,” I say out loud, settling against the hay and closing my eyes again, quickly falling into an easy slumber when I think of him telling me how good I’m doing after I try.