Every meal you refuse is another day in your room.
Choose wisely, kotyonok.
I flushed the note down the toilet. And then, I refused lunch.
Yulia shoved another piece of paper at me.
I can only assume my pet wants me to hand-feed her.
But just so you’re aware, the thought of my fingers in your mouth makes me hard.
I ate the next meal.
Hours passed in this bedroom with nothing to do or watch except for the homemade porn on the TV. I washed my single item of clothing in the bathroom sink with a bar of soap and showered more often than necessary due to sheer boredom—and maybe with the small vendetta to skyrocket Ronan’s water bill in retaliation.
Soon, I realized solitude was the worst torture. Dwelling on my feelings of doubt especially. I wondered if my papa was responsible for that boy’s death, and if so, whether I would turn my back on him for it. I clearly wasn’t the honorable person I aimed to be because I didn’t think I could.
The truth was, love was self-serving. A greedy monster without morals, corrupting my most basic principles. Loyalty came hand in hand, tightly gripping my throat.
My thoughts and the walls closed in further each day.
I tapped on the glass again, drawing a look and a twitching nose from my furry friend. “I guess it’s just you and me, buddy,” I whispered.
And then an eagle swooped from the sky, his claws extended, taking off with my rabbit and leaving nothing behind but a wasteland of snow.
I woke to darkness and the Woman in Black at my bedside.
As a gasp of terror squeezed my lungs, I scrambled back against the headboard. My eyes focused in the moonlit room, and an exhale of relief poured from me. The phantom was none other than a skinny housekeeper.
“God,” I snapped. “What is wrong with you?”
Yulia arched an eyebrow, but I swore, as she moved to the door and turned the light on, her bony shoulders shook with silent amusement. Heart still pounding at the disturbing awakening, I blinked against the harshness of the overhead light.
“Your presence is required downstairs, devushka.”
The words settled on my skin like a thick, suffocating paste, and everything in me went quiet. I glanced at the clock on the wall to see it was twelve o’clock, and, slowly, I said, “It’s the middle of the night.”
Yulia yanked the comforter off me and began to fold it on the foot of the bed. “Laziness casts one into a deep sleep, and an idle person will suffer hunger.”
Did she just call me lazy? Most importantly, did she actually quote the Bible while aiding and abetting the devil? I didn’t dwell on her brand of insanity for long. The ironic thoughts floated away on an icy flood of anxiety.
I hadn’t seen Ronan since he locked me in here days ago. I assumed he had so many superior villainous things on his mind he’d forgotten about the captive in his guest room. The solitude was a relief and a hell all at once.
It seemed I was no longer forgotten.
Maybe, at this symbolic midnight hour, he’d decided to finally trade me for my papa’s life. Or maybe this was when the torture would begin. Maybe he’d decided the best revenge was to kill me instead.
My imagination conducted a circus in my head, flashing snapshots of my demise: Ronan pushing me out into the snow; inked fingers in my hair that forced me to my knees; his cavalier expression, and a pop as he put a bullet between my eyes.
A tremble rocked me at my core, and I grabbed the sheet Yulia was pulling away for something to hold onto. “I’m not going down there.”
Eyes narrowed, she tugged on the other end of the sheet. “Da, ty poydesh.” Yes, you are.
I tugged back. “Nyet, ya ne poydu.” No, I’m not.
Her glare intensified. “Get up. You have already made them wait long enough.”
Them?