Dom finally steps back, dragging a hand across his mouth while he watches me breathe like he’s trying to calm himself down instead of me, and somehow that terrifies me more than the boiling water did. I wish this felt like a nightmare, something my brain made up that I could eventually wake up from, but the greasy, sickening smell filling the room only reminds me that this is the fucked-up reality I’m trapped in.
I swallow hard, trying not to look at either of them, but the second I lower my eyes, I hear Cain moving closer.
“Damn,” he mutters with a low laugh. “You look fucked up, princess.”
He then spits on the floor in disgust as he steps closer to me, a metal bowl hanging loosely from one hand while he stirs whatever’s inside with a spoon.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he says casually. “I made you something special.”
A part of me wants to feel relieved at the sight of food because my body is desperate for anything at this point, desperate for energy, for strength, for something that might keep me alive through whatever the fuck this has turned into. My stomach twists painfully from hunger, betraying me instantly, but after everything they’ve already done to me, I don’t trust myself to hope anymore, not even for something this small.
“I’m not hungry,” I let out weakly.
The second the words leave my mouth, both of them burst out laughing, the sound loud and ugly, echoing through the room in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Jesus Christ,” Dom says through a grin. “She’s so fucking funny.”
“This wasn’t a request,” Cain adds, and the way his eyes lock onto mine makes fear immediately tighten in my chest again.
I swallow hard against the dread climbing up my throat.
“I need to use the bathroom… please,” I whisper, forcing the words out past the pain tightening in my chest. “Please.”
“For sure, kitten,” Dom replies easily, and relief crashes into me so fast it almost hurts because for one stupid second, I actually believe he’s going to let me down. But instead, he grabs the same metal pot from the floor and drops it near my feet before nudging it toward me with the tip of his boot.
“There you go,” he drawls casually. “Hope you can do it standing up.”
I blink at him in disbelief, certain I heard him wrong.
“Are you serious?” I blurt out unevenly. “You want me to pee like this?”
Neither of them answers.
My pulse starts hammering harder.
“What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do?” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to, fear and humiliation crashing together so violently I can barely breathe. “Run? Where exactly would I run? I’m locked God knows where with two fucking psychopaths. Just let me go to the bathroom, please…”
The rest of the sentence dies in my throat when Cain suddenly grabs my jaw and shoves a piece of meat into my mouth. I instantly try to spit it out, but he’s faster, his hand clamping hard over my mouth while a slow grin spreads across his face.
“No, no, no,” He tsks softly. “Don’t be rude, princess. I made this myself.”
My stomach twists violently as I try to pull away from him.
“Now chew.”
The taste hits my tongue almost immediately, greasy and strange, different from anything I can actually recognize, and nausea crawls up so fast my eyes water. Something about it feels wrong, but his hand is still pressing against my mouth while he watches me expectantly, and eventually I force myself to chew just to make it stop. Every swallow feels harder than the last.
“Good girl,” Cain murmurs softly after I finally get it down, slowly pulling his hand away before reaching into the bowl for another piece.
“See?” Dom says from behind him. “You even get princess treatment over here, kitten.”
“I really need to…” My words break apart before I can finish them, desperation and humiliation crashing into me so hard my chest aches with it.
“Just use the goddamn pot for fuck’s sake and stop whining like a bitch,” Cain snaps, shoving the metal pot harder between my feet with his boot.
“But…”
“That’s it,” he cuts me off coldly. “If you won’t do it yourself, I’ll fucking make you.”
