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“That’s how you want to play it?” He curses under his breath in what I can assume is Spanish, as he turns, dropping the sandwich back onto the plate before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out what looks like a small pair of bolt cutters, opening and closing them a couple of times. “I may need you alive, but as luck would have it, you can live without toes. I think a couple might do the trick.” He dips down, positioning himself at my right foot that’s helplessly locked in place by the handcuff.
“Wait... What?” Fear pulses through me. It’s the only emotion I can grasp onto.
“Let’s see.” He taps the metal tool against his chin as he examines my foot. “I think maybe the little one first.” He slides the cutters around my pinky toe and starts to squeeze.
It’s the smallest amount of pressure but it’s enough to have me conceding in an instant.
“I’ll eat.” The words tear from my throat, bouncing off the walls around me in a deafening eruption.
He looks up at me. What can only be described as relief floods his features as he tucks the tool back into his pocket and stands upright.Don’t men like this usually get off on torturing people?
I don’t have time to question it before he grabs the sandwich off the plate. He extends it to me. “Eat.”
“I can’t eat it like this.” I pull against the restraints, ignoring the pain of the metal cutting into my bruised wrist.
“Yes, you can.” He holds the sandwich closer to my mouth. “Bite,” he instructs.
This time I do as he says, my heart thudding rapidly inside my chest as I lift my head and take a large bite. My stomach lurches despite the lack of sustenance inside it, and for a moment I’m not sure I’ll be able to chew the food, let alone swallow it.
“See, that’s not so hard now, is it?” Mateo takes a seat next to me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
He waits until I’ve chewed and swallowed the bite, before holding the sandwich to my mouth again. I turn my head to refuse but think better of it when he hits me with a dark glare. I quickly bite off another piece of the sandwich.
“This doesn’t have to be hard for you. You have a warm bed. Food. Everything you could need. Trust me when I say that things could be much, much worse for you.”
“Says the person not locked in a room, or currently handcuffed to a bed.” I reluctantly take another bite when he pushes the sandwich to my mouth.
“You think this is bad?” A deep chuckle escapes his throat. “If anyone else had found you first, you’d be tortured, raped, and probably rotting in a dingy basement somewhere right about now. I think it’s safe to say you got off easy.”
“Easy?” I question around a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “You kidnapped me. You took me away from my life. And now I’m locked in here, with no idea where I am or how long I’ll be here. That isn’t exactly what I would call easy.” I fight back the angry tears that well behind my eyes. “Can you please take these off now?” I move my hands, causing the cuffs to clink against the headboard.
Without a word he stands, setting the half-eaten sandwich on the plate. He reaches into his pocket, this time producing a key. In one swift motion, he has one cuff unlocked and is sliding it off my wrist. Moving to the other side of the bed, he removes the other.
I immediately sit up, rubbing my right wrist and then my left.
I watch as he moves to the chair next to the bed and takes a seat.
“Aren’t you going to take these off too?” I ask, pointing at my feet.
“When you finish eating, I’ll consider it.”
“Seriously?”
He gives me a look that says he’s very, very serious.
With an exasperated sigh, I shift as far as I can with my feet still restrained and reach for the sandwich. It’s not without struggle, but I finally manage to retrieve it, tearing off a big bite with my teeth as I once again position myself upright.
“See, this isn’t so hard now, is it?” He crosses one leg over the other, watching me intently.
If we were here under different circumstances, I might take notice of how good he looks in his black suit, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt open, showing off a sliver of his skin. But right now when I look at him, all I feel is anger.
I shove the rest of the sandwich in my mouth to avoid saying something I might regret. The bite is extremely too big and takes me twice as long to chew, but somehow I manage to get through it. And while I still feel nauseous from the stress and nerves, I have to admit that I feel a little bit better than I did.
I don’t know why I thought starving myself was the way to go. I guess I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. A whole hell of a lot of good it did me.
“Now, if you’re finished, I thought maybe you’d like to take a walk.”
“What?” My eyes go wide. “You’re going to let me out of here?” I ask, my voice hopeful.
