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How hard could it really be?
10
SIERRA
Being chained to this bed is making me crazy. I’m pretty sure I have counted every leaf on every tree I can see outside the window. There must be a way to get the great brute to release me.
I throw my head back on the pillow. I refuse to give myself to him. Who’s even to say that he would release me then? I could spend the rest of my life chained to this bed servicing a monster. No, I need a plan.
The next morning, I smile instead of scowling as he enters with my breakfast. I thank him as sincerely as I can for serving me. I have to be careful. If I lay it on too strong, too fast, he will get suspicious.
Biding my time, I wait until he brings lunch before I engage him in conversation.
“You know, you make the most delicious food I have ever tasted,” I tell him honestly.
He looks at me as if trying to discern my sincerity. “Thank you,” he replies eventually. “I learned from my mother.”
His answer shocks me. I had never once imagined him as a child, being cared for by a mother who loves him.
“Is she still alive?” I ask.
“No,” he replies, sadness evident in his voice. “She was killed by a band of orcs when I was barely grown. A large gang of them came through our territory and burned our home to the ground. She hid me and died defending my hiding place.”
I’m genuinely saddened by his admission. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him, touching his hand.
It is the first time I have initiated touch, and he stares incredulously at my hand on his. A small smile plays around the corners of his mouth, softening his hard features.
“It was long ago,” he tells me as if trying to lighten the tragedy for my benefit.
“It still must have hurt. I miss my mom and dad all the time, and I don’t even remember them.”
“I never knew my dad,” he tells me. “My mom never told me what happened to him. She just said he died before I was born.”
I don’t have to fake my sympathy. I know what that emptiness feels like. All I have craved for as long as I can remember is to be loved by someone. For another being to care if I lived or died, and not just because it would affect their profit margin.
For a while, I sit and eat while he watches. Our conversation has me feeling like I don’t want to betray his trust, but the chain on my leg is telling me that I should use this situation to my advantage.
“I feel bad that you are spending all your time cooking for me and cleaning for me,” I tell him, manipulation winning over. “Could I clean up or something?”
A frown appears on his already wrinkled brow and his shoulder tense. Damn, I’ve pushed it too far too quickly.
Without a word, he takes my plate and leaves. He does not even slip his hand beneath my dress as he usually does. The world seems emptier for his disappointed departure.
“Fuck,” I cuss quietly under my breath.
He is late to bring supper and when he does, he simply hands me the plate and leaves. I curse myself again for moving too fast. The food is delicious as always, but my appetite is gone and I leave my half-finished plate on the floor.
It is way past dark before he comes in and retrieves it. “I know you are frustrated with being held captive,” he tells me. “But if you escaped now, you would die in the wilderness. I cannot have that. You are mine, and I must look after you.”
His words are a revelation. I had imagined that I was his prisoner to be toyed with and abused. Did he really believe that this captivity was to protect me?
“Do you really think I wish to go back to the dark elves?” I want to know.
He looks at me and shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “But I don’t think you want to be here with me, either. I think you still see me as a monster. But one day you will see what is in my heart and you will no longer be afraid of me.”
“I admit, I am still a little afraid of you,” I reply, trying to be as open with him as I can. “But I also realize I cannot stay here in your room for the rest of my life. I yearn to feel the sun on my skin, to have things to keep me occupied other than lying here awaiting your next visit.”
The look he gives me is intense, as if he is trying to make his mind up about something. I wish with everything I have for him to believe me.
