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GENEVIEVE
Ifall asleep turning plans and information over in my head. The faces of my assailants follow me into my dreams, until all I see are their laughing mouths, the masks they wore, and Chaz cheating on me over and over again.
What a fucking day…and now night.
When I jerk awake, it’s in the pitch-black room. For a moment, I think I’m home, until the cold hits me again. I can’t feel my toes, nose, or fingers, and the shivering has stopped, which is concerning. I lie here on the uncomfortable, dirty bed, wondering if I actually might pee myself like he said. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since before the charity event.
For fuck’s sake.
Just then, as if my thoughts have summoned them, the door opens. I can’t see the person’s face or much of their clothing, only their shadow. I know instantly it’s the one in charge, from his height and stance, as he watches me to see if I’m awake.
“Hungry?” he finally asks.
“Well, since you abducted me before tea, I’ll say yes.” I snort bitterly, pulling myself into a sitting position, despite being tied to the headboard. I tuck my feet under me to try to bring some warmth back to them.
He moves closer, the moon now illuminating him a little as he places the food on the bedside table, the warmth and smell of it hitting me so hard, I almost moan. “If I cut your bindings, do you promise not to fight me?” he inquires carefully.
The lamp has been removed, probably while I slept. Fuck.
“No,” I scoff.
“Then you won’t eat.” He shrugs calmly, as if he doesn’t care one way or the other.
I grind my teeth, unable to help it. He watches me patiently, the smell of the hot bowl next to me making my stomach growl embarrassingly loud. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to go hungry. I promised myself never again, no matter what it took. Yet this is a new low, even for me. I nod mutely. I’m tired, cold, and hungry. I’m clearly not escaping in the dark, so I might as well just play nice and get what I want.
“Fine,” I finally grit out when he doesn’t move.
To his credit, he doesn’t mock or tease me. No, he silently undoes my bindings and helps me sit up before handing me the bowl. Inside is homemade soup with some bread on the side, and there is also a glass of water. He sits on the bed, making it dip towards him, and I eye him warily.
“I can’t leave you with that or unbound,” he explains. I can’t blame him really.
Uncaring, I dive into the food, barely even tasting it as I swallow it and mop up the soup with the bread. It’s warm and actually good, despite the conditions I’m being kept in. I’m done too soon and reluctantly hand it back, still trying to play nice, hoping it will work.
He doesn’t leave instantly, so I take my shot. I won’t run, not yet. I won’t make it with the others downstairs, especially during the night, when I don’t know where I am and have no shoes or coat, but I can gather information that will help me.
“Who are you?” I ask. When he doesn’t respond, the other questions come flooding out before I’m able to bite my tongue to stop them. “Why me? Why? Just let me go. Where are we? How long do you plan to keep me here? It won’t change what I saw, you know.”
He still doesn’t reply, but he does stand and walk over to the window, looking outside as if for strength or answers. For a moment, looking at his silhouette standing before the stark, cold landscape of the English countryside, I feel sorry for him. He looks lonely and lost. It only lasts a moment, however, and then I’m back to feeling blistering anger at myself as well as him.
I huff and look at the plate, debating trying to steal the glass to break it to use on them, when his low, slow voice drags my attention back to him.
“You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Lucky fucking me,” I snap. This isn’t helping. It’s only making me angrier and a lot less hopeful of getting out of here. It seems he doesn’t even know what to do, but it’s clear he will do whatever it takes to protect himself and his friends.
Even if that means taking out what’s in the way, like me.
“I need to pee,” I finally say, suddenly exhausted and not wanting to know anything else about how I was just unlucky. It seems to be a recurring theme in my life anyway.
He turns towards me and watches me for a moment as I give him my bestI’m a good girllook. He finally gives in and steps closer, offering me his hand like some proper asshat. I hesitate but accept it, allowing him to pull me to my cold, numb feet. I shiver when they hit the wooden floor and ache to wrap my arms around myself. He frowns like he notices.
“I will make sure to bring up more bedding.” Ah, so he does notice then. Of course, it’s a little difficult to ignore the chattering of my teeth.
“Jeez, thanks. How about just letting me go?”
I see his lips tilt in a smirk. “Don’t push it,” he murmurs and leads me from the room with his hand.
I don’t catch much of a look at the hallway due to the dark, but he knows where he’s going as he confidently leads me to a door just up from mine and opens it. It creaks as he does, and I step inside before light suddenly floods the room. It blinds me for a moment as I blink and turn to see his hand on the old yellow switch by the door.
