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“Welcome back, sleepy head,” he says, kissing my unresponsive lips.

I try to turn my face away, but he grips my chin before forcing his tongue in my mouth. My entire body feels stiff.

I bite down on him, and he jerks back before his fist connects with my face. My face instantly swells from the blow, shooting pain spreading from my eye to my temple. Yet I am still not strong enough to move away from him.

“You fucking dare bite me after everything I have done for you?” he says, gripping a handful of my hair and jerking my head up painfully.

My hair is torn from the roots, and I cry out. He lets go, his eyes softening slightly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ada. Can’t you see that you give me no choice?” he says, walking away before returning with some handcuffs.

“I am going to take you out now, so you can eat. Are you going to behave?” he asks, my eyes on the handcuffs in his hand.

I try to nod, and he looks down at me.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, wanting me to answer.

“Yes…” I croak out, my throat feeling dry.

He clasps the cuff on one of my wrists. I am not sure where he thinks I would run off to when I can’t even feel my legs. He walks to the dresser before returning with lip balm in his hands; he puts it on my lips, and I rub them together, the balm stinging slightly. I can feel my right eye closing from where he punched me as I try to see out the slit of my eye.

Sam then picks me up, carrying me from the room before placing me at the table on a chair. He cuffs my hand to the table leg and then walks into the kitchen. I try to keep my head upright when I suddenly realize what I am wearing. A sob escapes my lips when I see the lacy fabric. He’s put me in white lingerie. The cami is completely see-through, my nipples sticking out from the cold, pressed against the lace, and he’s put me in some lace underwear that is also embarrassingly see-through. My entire body is covered in goosebumps, and my hair is slightly damp, like he has bathed me again.

Sam sets a plate in front of me before grabbing his own. I look at the plate. It has steak and mashed potato with some peas on it. How long have I been out that he has had time to leave and come back? Time’s completely escaped me; I could have been here for weeks or days with him knocking me out constantly. Looking outside, it is dark, and I can’t remember if it was dark before I went to sleep or light, everything blurring into one long nightmarish day.

He puts his plate on the table sitting across from me. He places a spoon next to me before taking my plate and cutting the meat into tiny pieces. He spears a piece with his fork before holding the fork to my lips. He presses the meat against them, and I force my mouth open. My face is aching from the movement as I try to chew it.

The task of chewing is harder than I realize, and my tongue feels like rubber.

“Good?” he asks, and I nod my head once.

Sam puts my plate in front of me before walking around and placing my free arm on the table next to the spoon.

“Eat,” he says before sitting across from me.

I move my fingers, trying to grab the spoon. I fumble with it a few times. My arms feel like they are held down by lead. Grabbing it, I try to scoop the potato up on it; not being able to lift my head completely makes it difficult, so I drop the spoon on the plate. He hits the table with his fist, making me flinch.

“Eat it, Ada,” he says like he thinks I’ve deliberately dropped the spoon.

I focus on the spoon, making sure I grip it harder, but I can barely feel it in my hand. I scoop the potato again and then have the hard task of lifting my hand to my mouth. I am starving and can’t remember the last time I ate. Shit, I don’t even know what day it is. I get the spoon up only for the potato to drop off at the last second.

My stomach drops when I hear his chair screech along the wooden floor, and he gets up. I try to move away but would only risk falling sideways and angering him more. Sam jerks my head back by the hair. Tears start brimming in my eyes at the sharp movement when he grabs a handful of food off my plate before jamming it in my mouth and smearing it on my face. I cough as he forces food into my mouth.

“I said fucking eat,” he screams in my face as I try not to choke, mash potato getting up my nose, blocking my airways and making me cough and breathe in the food he has managed to get in my mouth.

I start choking, but he doesn’t care, instead forcing more in my mouth before I can even swallow.

I gasp for air when he suddenly lets go, my head falling forward heavily as I spit what is in my mouth into my lap.

“Now you need another bath. What is wrong with you?” he snaps as he sits back down.

He slides a cup of water to me and I almost burst out crying.

How does he expect me to drink it?

He reaches over, grabbing my arm and putting it on the table again.

“Eat,” he says, and I feel tears roll down my cheeks as I force myself to grab the spoon again.