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“Again, you show a lot of concern for a kidnapper,” she told him.
Pee. Pee. Pee.
Why couldn’t she pee?
Was she going to explode? Did that happen if you couldn’t pee when you needed to?
Okay, now she was just being silly. Still, it was starting to feel like an extreme concern.
“Not a kidnapper.”
Lord help her.
“Why aren’t you peeing? I thought you were desperate?” he asked.
Was he kidding her right now?
“I am desperate.”
“Then go.”
“I can’t.” Tears started dripping down her face. This wasn’t cool. And she was starting to panic. She knew it was stupid. This wasn’t something to panic over. She’d pee. It wasn’t like her body had forgotten how.
“Why not?”
“If I knew, don’t you think I would do something? It really hurts.”
“You have to go. You’re going to harm yourself.”
“You need to leave. You’re putting my bladder off. It’s shy.”
“It’s not shy. Here.” He turned on the tap, then half turned away, facing the wall.
But she still couldn’t go. A sob escaped her. This was just the cherry on the top of a miserable day.
“Don’t cry.”
“You said that a woman’s tears don’t affect you,” she pointed out.
“They don’t. But you’re going to hurt your ribs further if you cry.”
“I k-know. But I c-can’t help it.”
With a sigh, he turned and studied her. “Shall I sing?”
“How will singing help?”
“It’s meant to help people get to sleep.” He turned, moving closer to her.
“I don’t need to sleep, though. Zander,” she cried out. She knew it was stupid to look to him to help. But she couldn’t help it. Here she was, sitting on a toilet in the same room as a stranger. A handsome, dangerous stranger.
Trying to pee.
Really? How was this her life?
“And it doesn’t help having you closer. Go stand out in the main room.”
“Not happening.”
