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"'Oh, you're still awake,' he said. 'I bet you've been having those nightmares again. Don't worry. I'll help you fall asleep.'
"'Please,' I pleaded. 'Cut me loose. It's hurting me.' "'No, no,' he assured me. 'Nothing will hurt you now. You're safe, forever and ever with me.'
"The sound of that put the greatest terror in me. It occurred to me that my parents would never be able to discover where I had gone. They might, with the help of the p
olice, find out I had bought a plane ticket to San Francisco, but I had never told them about Craig and our E-mail relationship. It might take months, maybe years before a smart detective might look in my computer for leads.
"I started to cry. I couldn't help it. He smiled as if that was good and pulled the computer chair beside the bed. Then he wiped the tears from my cheeks and actually tasted them."
"What?" Star asked. "Did you say, tasted?"
"Yes. He nodded and smiled and said, 'I love the salty taste of your tears. I know sometimes you cry just to make me happy.'
"He looked so contented. I forced myself to stop crying. Then he sat back, opened the book and began reading a story meant for a preschooler. He read it to me as if I were only three or four years old, exaggerating everything, raising and lowering his voice, acting happy and then sad when it was appropriate. I didn't utter a sound. When he finished, he closed the book and then leaned over and kissed my cheek.
"'Time to sleep,' he said.
"'Please,' I begged, 'let me go.'
"'I'll stay with you until you fall asleep,' he promised and then, he lowered his head to my stomach and rested it there.
"'I hear you gurgling,' he said and laughed. 'Go to sleep stomach. Go to sleep kidneys and liver, spleen and gallbladder. You, too, heart. C'mon now,' he said, touching me. I cringed, but he didn't do any more. I could feel his hot breath on my skin I was as still as I could be and soon his breathing was so regular, I was sure he was asleep."
"On your stomach?" Misty asked.
"Yes. Now I was afraid to move too fast or hard, afraid to wake him. All I could do was close my eyes and try to do what he had said he did all the time, drive out the bad thoughts. I thought about my house, my bedroom, my comfortable bed and I pretended I was home, pretended I had never run away. Exhausted from all the fear and the struggle, I did fall asleep.
"I woke sometime in the middle of the night. I was still tied down, of course, but I managed to turn my body in very slow moves, enduring the pain until I was able to touch the cable with my free hand. I traced it down and worked on tugging it away from my skin. It took hours and hours to gain a quarter of an inch of space, but that was not yet enough.
"It was exhausting, too. I fell asleep again and then I was awakened by the sound of the key in the door. It was morning, but very early because it looked like the sun had just risen. He entered the room, carrying a tray of breakfast: a glass of orange juice, some toast, a bowl of cornflakes with bananas and a flowery weed.
"'I picked this for you this morning,' he said. 'Isn't it pretty?'
"I was still very afraid, but also very angry now. "'You've got to eat your breakfast,' he said. 'It's the most important meal of the day.'
"'How can I eat? I can't even sit up,' I said.
"He looked at my tied ankle, thought for a moment and then put the tray on the chair. He untied my ankle.
"'You can eat with one hand,' he said. Even in his madness, he had some logic. He wasn't stupid.
"At this point, I thought it was best to play along so I nodded, pulled my legs up and let him put the tray on my lap.
"'That's freshly squeezed orange juice,' he said. 'Nothing but the best for you. Go on, drink it.'"
"It could have been poison," Misty said.
"I thought of that, but I didn't know what else to do but sip it. It tasted good. Then I smiled and said, 'Please, I have to go to the bathroom.'
"'That's all right,' he said. He went out to the bathroom and returned with a bedpan."
"You mean like in a hospital?" Misty asked.
"Exactly. I shook my head and said, 'Please, I want to go into the bathroom.'
"'Oh no,' he said, 'you can't get out of bed yet. You're not well enough.' He slipped the bedpan under me. Then he sat watching as if I was some kind of a toy."
"I feel like I'm going to puke," Misty said.
