He reaches down and picks up the spider by a leg. My heart’s racing so fast I feel like I'm gonna pass out. I turn away, woozy, trying to calm my racing nerves and he has the audacity to look amused.
"This isn’t even a spider, it’s a daddy longlegs. Looks like a spider, kinda, but just an insect with really long legs. It’s completely harmless." I want to tell him to skip the science lesson, but I can’t talk.
He throws it back into the woods, then sobers, his voice hardening. “Now get in there before I bring you in there myself."
Even in the dark, kind of smelly outhouse, I take a minute to appreciate the fact that I'm alone for the first time.
This is my… luxury. I need to think about how I can get away. This story doesn't end well in my current predicament. He'll interrogate me, probably violate me somewhere, and report back to my family. My family will probably turn on me, or at their most merciful marry me off to someone I've never met. There is no freedom at the end of any of these roads.
I need to find a way to get out of here. It has to be the pinnacle of my focus: my escape. If I’m already dead to them, the only risk with me escaping is that I’ll be found out and killed.
What do I have to lose?
Is living a life orchestrated by someone else any different than dying anyway?
But Dario won’t be easy to fool. The only time I'll probably be able to escape is when he's sleeping. He barely even lets me pee alone. But knowing him, he'll probably cuff me to the bed and then hold me while we sleep. That isn't gonna work.
I can find a weapon, or at least observe a way to escape when we're out of the cabin, maybe if we take a casual stroll in the woods. I can't outrun him, that much I know for a fact, because he's definitely athletic and taller than I am, and if I tried that I think that I would really end up regretting it. He would capture me, and punish me, and neither one of those things sound like a good option.
I circle back to the weapon idea.
“You’re taking a long time for someone who just wants to pee,” he says right outside the door. I roll my eyes.
“You’re a guy. Girls don’t just point… and… spray… then shake it off. Ew.”
He makes a low sound that could either be a growl or a laugh.
Weapons… weapons. That is a viable option and maybe my only one. Of course, he’s the one with the gun and I'm just me, with no knowledge of weapons at all. Dammit, I wish I had more experience.
But at least I know what I have to do now. I have to keep an eye out for an escape. I don't really care where I go or what I’ll do after I get there. I don't care if I have to find some menial job and take a different identity and become broke to do it. I've had a life of wealth, and it is very seriously overrated. Nothing comes free.
So my best bet right now is to play a long game. To “obey” him. Eye roll.
Do every single little thing he asks and bide my time until I have the freedom to escape. This isn't like my captivity back on the wharf when I was tied with a rope. This affords a lot more freedom, and I only have one person to escape from.
It’s doable.
I make up my mind. I'm probably dead to my family by now. They don't care about me anymore, and Vivia Montavio is no longer who I am.
I’ll take on a new identity, I'll find my way.
I finish my business and leave the smelly outhouse. He stops the door with his palm, and steps in my space. "Stay right there." Any trace of gentleness I thought I imagined before is gone, and now he's nothing but bossy and implacable. Whatever.
With his back to me, he unzips his pants. Door still open.
“Oh my God, you’re not just —”
“I am just taking a piss with nothing but air between the two of us. Get over yourself," he says. "I don't trust you enough. Stay right there."
Guys are so disgusting. I turn and look away, and remember my purpose. I quickly scan the woods for anything I could use as a weapon. There's a thick, fallen branch that could work as a club, but I grimace at the thought of actually bringing that down and hurting him. Sharp sticks yes, but God I can't… impale a guy. Jesus, I don't have the constitution for shit like this.
Maybe I don’t need to hurt him. Maybe I can just… sneak away.
He takes me by the arm and leads me back to the house.
“I don’t suppose there’s any instant hand sanitizer around here.”
He sniffs. “Poor little spoiled, sheltered Montavio sister,” he says without a trace of sympathy. Is he mocking me? Whatever. Any woman would be grossed out by this. Spoiled my ass.