15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Day three came and went, darkness falling over the view from my window where I sat, clothed, for a change, watching the world go on without me.
The pretty crescent moon glowed on a large oval lake; its reflection distorted by swimming fish. The green grass appeared a darker shade, a terrifying metropolis for tiny bugs who may become prey to the bigger insects lurking in the dark.
I wasn’t a tiny bug, but I felt like one these last few days. One that had already been crushed.
I was kidding myself to think I wouldn’t really die in this room because if Mercer or starvation failed to kill me, boredom would do it. The stuffed animals and Raggedy Ann dolls sitting high on shelves I couldn’t reach would be the only ones to attend my funeral. No tears, no pain, just peace.
And that was more than I could wish for.
I was pulling my hair out, literally. I created a new bald spot on the other side of my head that could only be hidden by the thickness of my remaining hair. I didn’t even realize I was doing it half the time, but my fingers needed something to do to take my mind off everything else.
Mercer, the devil in a fancy suit, had been true to his word, happy for hunger to end my life.
Nothing had crossed my lips for days, nothing but glasses of water I’d taken from the bathroom sink. I’d filled the glass that once housed my toothbrush multiple times, giving it a new home on my bedside table.
A tap rattled on my door, loud but gentle. Trix must be home. I waited, spinning the bright pink chair around to welcome her, but my door didn’t open.
“Come in, Trix!” I shouted, but she didn’t enter. “You can come in!” I tried a little louder.
My wheels crushed carpet fibers, moving me to the door. I pulled it open, and a wheeled dinner tray greeted me. On the tray, sat a plate, hidden by a fancy silver dome. I lifted it, and the smell, oh, the glorious, wonderful smell, hit me in the face.
My favorite dish taunted me. A voice in my head told me, eat, it’s for you.
I didn’t want it, making a point by slamming down the lid, but then I thought of Trix—the only person who showed me kindness here, and how horrible it would be for her if I threw that kindness in her face. So, I put the tray on my lap, and the drink accompanying it in the attached holder on my chair and closed the door.
Back at the window, I stared out at the silver moon, taking the first bite of food. My tastebuds screamed out with joy, and my stomach flipped and danced, excited for the arrival. I took another bite, my eyes closing as my body regenerated.
A noise came from outside, barely stealing my attention from the food and all the delicious thoughts rushing through my head, but curiosity won over when the noise came again.
I put my meal on the dresser, stretched my fingers across the window ledge, and pulled my heavy body from my chair for a better view. I didn’t weigh a lot, not really. Mr. Silent certainly tossed me around quite easily whenever he felt like it. But my energy was...was just...gone. I glanced down, almost wishing I had the physical strength to end it all...
But my mental strength suddenly crept from somewhere I thought was sealed shut, the key tossed away. It told me that wasn’t my path, and I was strong enough to walk, well, wheel, through this darkness and find a light at the end.
A tear rolled from my eye, not wanting to do any of that, not wanting to do anything. I watched as it disappeared from my sight, growing farther from me and becoming lost in the image of grass and flowers below.
A moment went by when my attention wandered to the serene lake, the crescent in the sky still reflected there. Owls tooted in the distance. A fox pounced on what he thought was prey, only to be disappointed by the fact it was some other predator’s leftover lunch, and there wasn’t much leftover.
I admired the freedom of the animal but not the hunger it felt. Hunger, that I still felt. My stomach rumbled, and I glanced over to the meal brought for me. Lentil pie and vegetables hidden in mashed potatoes. My favorite. The gravy sitting in a miniature jug at the side was getting cold, the steam rising up and diminishing with each second of the ticking clock.
I felt guilty.
Guilty that I could eat and the little fox couldn’t. Guilty that I hadn’t.
I looked up at the speaker in the corner of my room, wondering if it was also a camera. The hateful scowl I became accustomed to crept onto my face. I reached for my plate, poured the brown gravy, and began eating, wishing I could share with the animal outside.
He was weary now. I watched him as I chewed, his orange fur standing on edge. Watched as he cautiously moved through the long grass at the water’s edge. Pastry crunched between my teeth as I stared in disbelief at the small fox accepting food from my captor. A feast of fruit laid out before the creature on a round silver plate, similar to mine.
My jaw dropped, seeing Mercer lying opposite the creature, their noses close as they greeted each other. I had to be quick to catch the mouthful of food that almost fell from my mouth.
He really had a fox…like his drawing, just less menacing. And he loved the furry creature. Showed compassion to it. And it reminded me of the man I thought he was and proved he wasn’t all bad.
There was good in him...in the evil man who wished me dead. This fox saw it. Felt it.
I saw it…felt it. And believed it was a lie.
It was buried deep, but it was there.
It made me feel...like I could accept all the things I felt that weren’t anger and upset.
Maybe this was the lie?
Maybe he didn’t want my heart to stop. Maybe he was just shielding his own.
I knew enough to know that the only truly evil things people had buried were the secrets they kept and the bodies of the innocents they had hurt.
Mercer was hiding so much more than that. He was hiding emotions.
He looked up to my room, the bright light almost making it easy to spot me as I leaned out of view.
I tried to glance around my curtain—the velvet material and royal shade of fuchsia making it impossible to see through—but I couldn’t do that without him seeing me.
I counted to ten, taking in a fork loaded with mashed potatoes to my mouth between each number. Then I looked back to the window, praying his attention was back on the animal, and it was as he patiently waited for the fox to finish its meal.
I ate, watching him give attention and love to the playful animal. Pushing more food onto my fork, I looked back to find a lonely fox staring up at me. Mercer and the food were no longer there, and I found myself wondering, were they ever? Was hunger bringing out hallucinations?
I wanted to believe there was good in him, but with him out of sight, I took the last bite and questioned the truth...because only when Trix had returned had I been fed.