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I will not go down without a fight. I will not make this easy for him. My fists clench on the edge of the blanket covering me and I start to yank it off, turning away from him to crawl to the other side of the bed. I have to stand up. I have to get away.
He rushes towards the bed when he sees me attempting to make an escape. I am too slow. My body is so heavy. I hurt everywhere and even though I am trying my best, I am hardly able to get halfway across the bed before he is at my side.
“Wait. Stop.” He reaches out to grab me and I snarl at him, baring my teeth. I feel like a wild animal. Cornered and terrified. He withdraws his hand as though he has changed his mind.
“It’s okay,” he says, stepping away from me. I freeze.
“You’re safe,” he tells me. “I promise you.”
My eyes pierce into him as my thoughts run wild. My mind is screaming run, escape, fight, but my body is so exhausted, my lungs are tight, my limbs are hurting—I can hardly move.
I drop my head back onto the pillow, wishing I had more in me.
He eases his massive, muscular bulk into the chair at the side of the bed.
“I promise you; you are safe. I am not going to hurt you.” He watches me and I stare back at him. He makes promises but speaks with the same accent as the ones who took me. People lie all the time. He is lying.
“How are you feeling? Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”
His voice is deep and rich. If I was not so terrified, I might find it soothing. His words are calm and he is speaking softly, as though he is trying to be reassuring.
I watch his gaze and notice how his eyes glance down, traveling across my body. I look down at myself and realize I am hardly wearing anything at all. I grab the blanket and throw it over myself.
“I—I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I was worried that you might have torn your stitches. I was just looking at your stitches.”
He leans forward and I tense. He reaches for a glass of water next to the bed and holds it out for me. I stare at it, wondering what poison lurks inside the clear liquid. He holds it closer.
I reach out and slap the glass away. It falls from his hand, flying sideways and splashing water across the edge of the bed before the glass smashes against the wooden floor.
I wince at the sound.
He hardly moves. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up and get you a new glass.”
I feel my lips snarling again. I don’t want whatever water he pours me. I don’t trust him.
“I’ll bring you another glass. If you want any type of juice, you can let me know. The doctor does want you to get your hydration up, though, so water will be important now. I understand that this is very scary, and you don’t know what is going on. Do you remember what happened to you?”
I nod.
He closes his eyes for a moment as though he is in pain.
“I am so sorry for whatever they did to you. They will not get away with it. I want you to know that. In the meantime, though, all I want you to do is focus on resting. Anything and everything you need, I’ll get it for you.”
His shoulders relax a little as he leans back into the chair. “Are you hungry? I’ll have the chef make something for you. Something light and easy. I don’t imagine you could handle a full meal right now. Unless you want one? What do you feel like eating?”
I glare at him. My stomach growls loudly and I grit my teeth, wishing it would not betray me like that. I don’t want to accept anything from this man, but I am starving. I don’t even remember the last time I ate.
He chuckles, his smile broad and for some reason, I cannot take my eyes off his lips. When he stands, though, I flinch.
“It’s alright, little rabbit,” he says. “I’m just going to call for the chef.”
He leans out of the bedroom door and says something to someone standing nearby.
I glance around the room. It is clean, bright, and neat. The bed I am in is a four-post wooden one with intricate and beautiful designs carved into it. Across the room, facing the foot of the bed, are large windows with a reading nook beneath them. To the left of the windows are big wooden framed doors. Bright morning light flushes through the soft white curtains. Although they are almost sheer, all I can make out is the balcony just beyond the doors. I squint towards it, wanting to know where I am.
“Do you want the curtains open?” he asks, walking back into the room.
I glare at him again, my attention turned towards the most immediate danger.
