She put her hands on this sandwich. I can't convince myself that it was made with love, but it has to mean something, right? I ignore the dirty dishes in the sink as she grabs her own plate and walks toward the bedroom.
I press play on the remote after we settle on the bed. The sound is low, unintrusive as we begin to eat, but what Hollis told me nags at me. “You've been here nearly a month,” I say, wondering if she’s lost track of time as easily as I have.
“Twenty-seven days,” she says, taking a bite of her sandwich and not pulling her eyes from the television.
My world stops. She knows exactly how long she’s been here? “How do you know that?” I ask.
She looks over at me as if it’s a silly question. “Today is the thirtieth. You took me on the third. But I’m not counting that day because it was close to midnight.” I just blink at her. “The date is on your phone screen,” she explains. “I saw it yesterday when you placed the grocery order.” As if it’s no big deal, she gives me a small little smile before reaching over and stealing the pickle off my plate.
Chapter 26
Raya
I chew on the corner of my bottom lip as I enter the kitchen. Liam is at the sink washing dishes from dinner.
He’s in his normal uniform of low hanging sweats and a plain black t-shirt. He must have gotten tired of looking at the clothes folded on the bathroom sink because they’re the same ones he offered to me weeks ago.
I don’t test him often but when I do, he surprises me. If I mention a certain food I like it’s always in the delivery the next time he orders. I always get to pick what we watch on television, but I think that has more to do with the fact that he honestly doesn’t care what’s playing out in front us because his eyes are usually always on me.
I like the attention. I like being the center of his world, his only focus. It’s the first time I’ve had anything like that, and I’m hungry for it. I crave it, like I crave the sight of his orgasms.
I woke up feeling different this morning, restless. It’s not the first time, but it’s the first time I haven’t been able to shove that feeling away.
It’s September third and I know that that date means absolutely nothing to him. And there have been a lot of years I knew better than to let it mean anything to me, but today is not one of those times.
He notices me standing in the kitchen as he turns. The smile on his face at the sight of me is my newest obsession. He’s normally such a closed-off man, very frank and matter of fact. But it’s these moments, these half seconds of time when he responds before thinking or analyzing how he should act that make me the happiest. The only time he normally lets his emotion show is when his hands are working his cock.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m just as obsessed with those times, but the little smiles are few and far between. We don’t find the same things funny. Often I’ll laugh at something on the television, or a silly thought in my head, and he just stares at me, as if he can’t believe I’m immature enough to laugh at anything.
I know he likes me being here, but I don’t think the man has any real joy in his life. I wouldn’t say that he’s bitter, just caged off and accepting of the way things are. Maybe I would be too if I were the subject of violence like he had to have been with the scars that mark his body.
“What's up?” he asks as he dries his hands on a dish towel.
My eyes instantly drop to my feet. I have to be crazy to open my mouth and ask of him what I want. He's going to say no, so there's really no point in me wasting my energy but I just can't get it out of my head. I won't be able to find peace with it until he rejects the idea.
“Raya,” he says, the warning clear in his voice. He doesn't really like me getting stuck in my head and for a man who doesn't really like to speak at all, he’s usually insistent that I speak my mind. I don't tell him the real thoughts in my head. I'm still holding that part of me close to my chest.
I could be thinking about how less stressed I am, even here, being held captive than I would be if I were home. I memorize my schedule a month in advance. Dates have always been easy for me. I know how many events of my father's I’ve missed. And the first couple made me nervous, but somehow I let go of that. At some point, I either stopped worrying or maybe just stopped caring about what my absence might mean for others.
“Raya,” he prompts again. “Spit it out.”
I look up at him, having to swallow a lump that's formed in my throat. Tears burn the back of my eyes for no other reason than in preparation of his rejection. “If you put the collar back around my throat and attach it to the chain…” I swallow again. “Can I go outside?”
He blinks at me as if my words were spoken in a foreign language and he's having a hard time understanding.
“I know the answer is going to be no,” I rush out. “But it's just that it's my birthday and I wouldn't be asking if—”
“Are you going to try to escape?” he interrupts.
I roll my eyes, the question completely ridiculous because where would I go? Back to my parents? How would I explain the fact that I've been missing for a month?
“You don't have to wear the chain or the collar because you'd never outrun me, Raya.”
And there it is, the threat in his voice.
“I don't know,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “I've been running a lot on that treadmill. I am as fast as the wind now.”
He narrows his eyes at first, but when I smile at him he realizes I'm joking.