Day 28 （hike day 3）
Her
Still no people. Partner’s still a bitch.
He hasn’t shown any sign of remorse for his words, and I sure as hell don’t intend to bring it up, but the silence around us as we walk is starting to drive me crazy.
At least I know, thanks to the map on my phone, that we’re still moving at a good pace.
I’m only checking once a day to save my battery, especially considering he has the power banks, and I refuse to ask him for anything.
It’s past midday when we come across a pond, the water so crystal clear it’s transparent.
“Wanna wash up?” His gruff voice startles me.
“Do you?” I retort. I’m just stalling, and I think he knows it.
“That depends.” He leans on a big rock that’s almost his size.
I wait, but it seems like he’s intent on making me play the guessing game. “On what?”
“On you, of course.” He places one hand casually on his weapon, but the motion has my heart rate doubling. “If you’re not going in, I’m not leaving you outside with all our equipment.”
With the gun, is what he doesn’t say.
“You seriously think I’ll run away with our stuff?” I spread my arms to the sides. “And go where, exactly? It’s endless fucking forest in every direction.”
“I never said you were smart.”
“Wow. Real smooth.” I drop my bag to the ground. “I think I’ll get in just to have a break from you.”
He doesn’t reply, and honestly, I don’t care if I hurt him. I might even be happy if I did.
Does that make me a bad person?
No, never mind. I don’t care.
I don’t bother explaining where I’m going as I grab a swimsuit and head far enough into the woods so that he can’t see me change. Unlike him, I trust him enough not to run off with our things, but now that I’ve put some distance between us, I realize that might be a mistake.
I keep giving him the benefit of the doubt, but what if he does ditch me? He’s been prickly for almost two days now. Is he really enough of an ass to leave me here with nothing but the clothes on my body?
And my phone, but it’s not like there’s anyone I can call for help.
I quickly strip off my tank top and leggings. Like I pointed out a few days ago, when I was waving around the very same bikini I’m changing into now, we know nothing about each other. Maybe I haven’t seen half of what he’s capable of.
Knock it off, I reprimand myself. You’re stressing yourself out over nothing.
Or I’m right, and he’ll murder me the moment he decides he’s had enough.
I mutter a curse underneath my breath when I return to the small lake and see him standing inside it, shirtless and—pant-less, it seems like, with his shotgun right there on a rock next to him.
“Good thing that you take so long to get changed,” he comments dryly, running a bar of soap over his chest, and I avert my gaze from the exposed skin.
Yeah, there’s no way I’m going in the water with him in there, and—I frown at realization—the rifle next to him is enough to stop me from trying to escape with our things.
Not that I was ever going to do that, I remind myself with clenched teeth. His stupidity is rubbing off on me. I’m pissed that he managed to beat me to it, going into the water before I could.
“This lake’s big enough for the both of us, you know,” he drawls, and his hand dips beneath the water. I really, really hope he’s wearing boxers, because the water reaches his stomach and I can’t really tell for sure he’s not naked underneath it.
“I’ll wait until you’re done, thanks.” I busy myself taking out the toiletries I need, deciding against a hair wash. The sooner I get this over with, the better.
The sound of sloshing water draws my attention, and I regret looking up the moment I see him standing on the brink, wrapping a towel around his waist, because—well, he looks really naked, even if I don’t actually see anything.
The fact that our roles are about to be reversed makes my stomach flip with unease.
My swimsuit might be covering all the important bits, but he’s still going to be looking at me in the exact same way as I wash myself.
In the time it takes me to hesitate, he walks over to his pack and grabs some fresh clothes, getting dressed. I do my best not to look at him while also not letting him out of my sight, because, as I keep reminding myself, there’s still a rifle in his hands.
He’s gathered a ridiculous number of weapons over the last few days, but the rifle still seems to be his favorite—the same one he pressed to my throat the day we met. I can almost feel the cool sensation of the metal.
“Go on, head in.” He gestures with his shotgun. “We don’t know when we’ll next find some water.” Dark amusement crosses his face. “I promise not to peep on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not,” I huff. Thanks for spurring on that fear. I had it almost from the first moment we met, just like any woman who’s alone with a strange man would, but he’s never seemed interested enough in me for me to really worry about it.
“So, what then?” He quirks a brow as I kick off my shoes. “Scared of the Loch Ness monster?”
“Ha ha.” I roll my eyes, but my nerves are overwhelming as I eye the still lake. Or more likely, his position in front of it. I’ll have to give him my back to get in.
“How do I know you won’t shoot me?” I let out without thought.
I only realize my mistake when his eyes lock with mine. He steps closer, and thanks to my bare feet, I feel like he’s towering over me taller than usual. The decision to stumble back isn’t a conscious one.
“You don’t,” he mentions casually as my back hits a rock wall. “But then again, you never did. It’s never stopped being an option.”
“Then why haven’t you?” The question slips away, unintended, charging the air between us the second it leaves my mouth.
His shrug is supposed to be nonchalant, an everyday motion, but the sight of his shoulders sinking back down feels as intentional as his eyes drilling holes into me. I catch a whiff of his clean, warm scent, and I wish it wasn’t so sweet and misleading. He’s anything but sweet as he corners me.
“I’m not a monster,” he states. “It’s not like I want to kill you.”
“But you will if you have to.”
It’s not a question, yet he nods.
I don’t ask what might bring him to do it. Partially because I still hope that he’s joking, but that part grows smaller by the minute; no, the thing that’s mostly keeping me silent is his proximity. He’s so much closer to me now, closer than he’s ever been, now that I think about it—
“Do I scare you?” He seems amused. His smirk has no business looking so good, fitting perfectly on his sharp face. “Don’t worry, you’ve stayed on my good side so far… mostly.”
“No,” I lie. “I’m tougher than I look.”
His smooth, bare chest looks so firm, his lean muscles more defined than I expected.
“If you end up doing it,” I say before I can think. “Killing me, I mean…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.” The glint in his eyes is devilish, and I have no doubt he’s enjoying it, watching me squirm, shiver—he wants me to be afraid of him.
“Not what I was gonna ask.” I square my shoulders, even though straightening up only pushes me harder against him.
“Do tell,” he coaxes. “I’ll do my best to adhere to your requests, but I can’t make any promises.”
His scent is driving me insane; it has to be, for the next words to leave my mouth. “If you do end up killing me, I want you to eat me.”
His smirk freezes. “What?”
“I want you to eat me,” I repeat. “If I’m gone, might as well be useful, right?”
He rears his head back to look at me. “Are you serious right now?”
“Canned goods will only get you so far.” I shrug. “You should eat me. I don’t have much meat on my bones, but I bet it’ll last you a good few days before I start to rot.”
“You,” he huffs out, “are fucking insane.”
“Why? Because I’m scaring you back?” I provoke, lifting my chin defiantly. “I mean it. I hope you eat me. And then”—I can’t help the grin that climbs my lips—“I hope I make you sick—”
His hand shoots to wrap around my windpipe, tightly encircling my throat. “Shut up.”
“What’s wrong?” My hoarse whisper has him loosening his grip, and I immediately make him regret it. “It’s okay for you to play with your food, but you don’t like it when the food plays back?”
“I’m not going to fucking eat you, you psycho bitch,” he growls, his dark voice and tightening squeeze around my throat silencing me, this time for good. “But I might gag you if you don’t stop talking.”
I can’t stop my feral grin from spreading, and he releases my neck like I’m going to bite him. For the first time in days, I feel like I’ve gained some of my power back. Like I’m becoming equal to him.
“Stop smiling like that.”
I can’t resist it. The wild words just come out, my veins pumping with the adrenaline of poking at him. “It’s my natural reaction to being choked.” I shrug nonchalantly. “And then you added the threat of gagging, so really—”
“One more word and I’m tossing your ass into the water.” His hand tightens painfully around my arm as if to emphasize his claim. “Don’t fucking test me.”
But I really, really want to, I almost purr in response, only stopping when I see the fire in his eyes.
And, yeah, the rifle still slung on his shoulder.
Maybe I’ve done enough damage for today.