"Fine. Don't eat. But you'll regret it."
The cell door unlocks. Before I can react, he's inside. My body tenses instinctively, but where the hell am I going to go? The space is small, suffocating, and I’m trapped between Ghost and the concrete wall.
He crouches again, this time within arm's reach. His fingers drag over the ground absently, tracing meaningless patterns. Casual. Calculating.
"Do you know how long someone can survive without food?"
My mouth goes dry.
He smiles again and it’s hypnotic. Entrancing. It reminds me of warm summer nights and stolen kisses instead of the nightmare I'm living in now.
"Three weeks," he continues. "But without water? Only about three days."
He tilts his head, studying me like a predator watching prey.
"You can learn to deal with hunger. Accept it. But do you have any idea what thirst does to a person?"
I press my back against the wall. "What do you want, Ghost?"
"Obedience," he says smoothly. "And since I know you won't give it freely, I'm going to take it."
A cold shudder runs down my spine. "What the hell does that mean?"
He pushes off the ground, standing to his full height. He looms over me, his presence swallowing the air in the tiny cell.
"It means you still don't realize the fucking position you're in. You don't get to eat unless I feed you." His tone is indifferent, like he's discussing the weather. "You don't get water unless I give it to you."
I stare at him in horror.
"Within a day, you'll be thirsty." He takes a step back toward the cell door. "By the second day, you'll beg me." He pauses,hand gripping the bars, his voice dropping. "And by the third, you'll be willing to do anything for just one drop.”
A ball of ice forms in the pit of my stomach. "You're a fucking monster."
He smirks, and for the first time, I actually believe it. He truly has become a monster.
"I'm what you made me."
Fuck.
3. Drowning
Adora
Idreamed of water. Of rivers, of waves crashing against cliffs, of rain soaking into the cracked desert of my throat. I could almost taste it, feel the cool relief trickling down my tongue, soothing the fire in my veins.
Of course, then I woke up, and all I had was Ghost's version of mercy.
Nothing.
I just want to die with a little fucking dignity. Is that too much to ask?
I try not to think about the thirst. Instead, I think about him. Even now, even after everything, he is still the thing that haunts me the most.
He was always impossible to look away from.
He used to smile at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to him. His dark eyes would flicker in the dusky glow of the clubhouse, tracking me across the room like he couldn't stand to be apart from me.
I loved him for that.
