“I’d planned to give you this,” he said, breaking me out of my thoughts. He held up a full plate. “You don’t deserve it, do you?”
He hadn’t wanted an answer, as he quickly tossed what I assumed had been a fancy cover for the plate to the floor. When it hit the cement floor with a clatter, it was far from a plate cover. A dog bowl would be my guess. Then he took the plate he’d been eating from and used his fork to scrape the remnants into the bowl without caring if they missed or not.
“Move back.” Though our fire gazes clashed, I did as he asked and even stayed on my hands and feet. Once I was fully inside the room, he used his foot to push the bowl at me. Then he dropped another dog bowl and made a show of pouring water from a water bottle into it. “You want to act uncivilized, you can eat that way, too.”
He made no move to leave.
“Don’t use your hands,” he added.
I had to hold back a verbal lashing. He’d proven time and time again that I should take him at his word. I needed to decide what was more important, my pride or my survival.
A glance down at the food showed the bite and a half left of a cinnamon bun. It was perfectly cut. He hadn’t bitten into it with his mouth. Rather, he’d been very elegant eating while using a knife and fork. It wasn’t piping hot, but the icing oozed down the side. Then there were about three bites of an omelet. Again, he’d use a knife and fork to cut it. There were no teeth marks. Lastly, there was one perfect strawberry. The other two had spilled over the edge when he shoved the bowl at me. They had hit the ground.
If I didn’t eat soon, my guess was he’d take it all and leave me nothing.
Save yourself, was the thought in my head as I bent and ate the food like a dog. Shame had fled the building. I was naked, chained, and very vulnerable. This man could do a lot worse to me. My obstinacy was not worth my death.
From the first bite, food had never tasted so good, or I was just too damn hungry to care. I wanted more of the cinnamon bun and mourned the one I’d lost because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. The omelet was gooey with cheese that wasn’t the individual wrapped slices kind. It was something more.
The strawberry I’d left for last burst on my tongue with the sweetness of summer. I finished it too soon and really thought about the five second rule when glancing at the others a foot away near the door.
That was when I noticed King getting to his feet. The man was big and scared me. My heart raced. Was this the moment he did things that had only plagued my nightmares?
“Drink?” he ordered.
It would have been so easy to pick the bowl up with my hands and drink with what dignity I had left. That wasn’t what he wanted. This was an exercise to put me in my place. So, once again, I followed his demand without question.
My hair slipped over my shoulder and dangled near the bowl as I sipped the water as if there was a straw. I tensed when a hand landed on my head before catching the wayward strands and moving them so they wouldn’t interfere with my drinking.
“See how good I can be? All you have to do is follow instructions.”
I fought against the instinct to wield my words like weapons. I fought against the need to fight, as he was so close. There was possibly even a key in his pocket that would free me. Too soon bounced in my head and stopped me from making a fatal mistake.
When I was done, I lifted my head away from the bowl, but I didn’t look up.
“Nicely done,” he said and picked up the two bowls.
He stepped over the stray strawberries but made no move to pick them up. Then the door closed. I didn’t have to hear the lock to know it was.
You can do this, I internally chanted. Play nice, bide my time, wait for a real opportunity before trying to escape again.
The floor was cold, and I glanced at the strawberries again. I wasn’t a fool. I picked them up and put them on the corner of the bed farthest from the door. If I had to, I could always rinse them in the bathroom sink and eat them with a prayer. That was a last resort.
After another minute, I crawled onto the bed. I again formed a protective ball around myself. To fight against the need to cry, I thought about everything I’d seen from the dark hallway to the bathroom. Had there been any clues that could help in my escape?