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She’s been warned. When she runs, I will give chase, and when I catch her, it will be anything but poetic.
Against her better judgment, she does as she’s told and walks ahead of me. With her shoulders slumped down and her head bowed, you can tell that she is thoroughly defeated.
Her feet move slowly up the stairs, but I try to be patient with her and not say anything. When she reaches the top, she stops altogether as if she is waiting for direction.
“Go to the bathroom,” I tell her, and she continues moving toward the bedroom.
Her eyes stay trained on the floor, and I just want her to fucking look at me. “I want you to take a shower while I make some dinner. Do you understand?”
She nods again, but this time I’m not satisfied with a simple nod.
“Look at me,” I demand.
She turns around hesitantly before lifting her eyes to mine. The moment our eyes connect, I wish I hadn’t made her look at me. There is a heavy sadness in the depth of her blue eyes. A sadness that is only overshadowed by one thing… fear.
I can’t imagine what she thinks of me now. How monstrous have I grown in her mind? It was the plan all along, and it must stay that way. I will keep her as mine until she is no longer of use to me anymore, until her worth has expired, and then I’ll…
Cowardly, I can’t bear to finish that thought.
The thought of killing her feels like someone is plunging a serrated knife into my chest. I’ve killed women before, but it’s been on rare occasions and only in situations where it was absolutely required.
“Do you understand?” I repeat, needing her words.
“Yes, I understand.” Her voice comes out soft and shaky but at least she is talking.
“Good, go take a shower and clean yourself up. It will make you feel better.” She, of course, doesn’t respond, not that I expected her to.
I watch her walk up the stairs to the bedroom, and when she disappears from view, I turn around and head back into the kitchen. There isn’t anything fresh here, only canned and dried goods, but it will do for now. We won’t go hungry.
After searching through the cabinets, I end up preparing a simple pasta dish with tomato sauce, parmesan, and canned chicken. I just finish draining the spaghetti when I hear Fallon descending the stairs. Peering over my shoulder, I catch sight of her wearing the overly large men’s gray T-shirt I left out for her.
My mouth fills with saliva and it’s got nothing to do with the food. The thought of fucking her against the counter, dirtying up her clean body all over again, makes my cock turn to steel.
No! A voice counters in my brain. I’m reminded of how emotionally unstable she is right now and how even if I am a shit person, she still needs to eat and sleep. Coming closer, her movements become slower, and her eyes flicker to the kitchen chair, where hours ago, the guy was tied up. There’s no evidence of that now, but she knows he was there. She knows I killed someone in this room.
You can’t unsee what’s already been done.
“Why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll bring you a plate.”
I don’t have to tell her twice. She sighs in relief and heads to the couch. I load up two plates and bring one, along with a bottle of water. She takes the plate from me and starts eating right away. At least I don’t have to force-feed her, which was something I was prepared to do if need be. I get my own plate and a beer from the fridge before I join her on the couch.
She doesn’t acknowledge me, pretending to be too busy eating.
“No gourmet food, but you don’t seem to mind,” I point out.
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m a college student. I live off ramen noodles most days.” Even though she is speaking in a monotone voice and doesn’t look at me, I don’t miss how she just gave me a sliver of information willingly. That shouldn’t excite me. I shouldn’t care about her life or what she did before the day of the auction, but I do. I want to know more about her, find out all her secrets. I want to crack her open and peer inside, peel back the layers of who she is.
“I might make a run to the grocery store for some fresh food tomorrow or the day after. Is there anything you are allergic to?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I almost ask her if there is anything she wants me to bring her, but then I remember her opinion doesn’t matter to me, or at least it shouldn’t. Asking her if she wants anything would make her seem like more than just a warm body for me to use, and I’m not about to cross that bridge. She finishes all her food and places her empty plate on her lap.
