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He climbs the stairway, going to the second floor. I don’t thrash while we’re on the stairs because I don’t want him to drop me. On the second floor, I resume my struggle, which makes him laugh.
“This isn’t funny, you psycho! Let me go.”
We enter a room bathed in darkness. He tosses me down, and it takes a moment for it to register to my brain that I’m on a bed. Scrambling to a sitting position, I look around the room, trying to get my bearings.
“I’m going to give you some time to cool down and be reasonable.”
“Wait!”
The door closes and I hear the unmistakable sound of a door locking. Feeling my way across the room, I find the door and try it. It doesn’t budge. Running my hand down the wall, I hope and pray that I find a light switch. When I do, I make an excited sound only for it to fall from my lips. The room is bare, except for a bed and a tin bucket sitting in the room's corner. That better not be for what I think it’s for. My gut says it is. There’s a window, and that gives me hope until I see the nails in it.
A blinking light in the room's corner near the ceiling catches my eye. So, the Beast is watching me? I hold up both middle fingers to the camera. He thinks he’s going to wait until I’m calm and reasonable? Well, he’s going to be waiting for a long-fucking-time.
I pace the room for what feels like hours. My stomach grumbles angrily, but I’ve been hungry before. My anger wavers and is replaced by fear for Chip and Belle. Where are they? Did they get sent back to my father? I almost wish the Beast would come back just so I can ask. But that doesn’t happen. So I pace until my head throbs. I don’t want to go to sleep. There’s no telling what that monster will do to me if I do. But exhaustion finally takes over. Grabbing the pillow and blanket from the bed, I curl up in a corner and close my eyes.
I’m jarred awake when the door opens and a tray of food slides across the floor. The door closes before I can get a word out. The scent of eggs and bacon fill the air, and my stomach growls happily. Too bad I will not eat it. I do drink the water that’s on the tray. I’m not stupid—I need water to live. Just so I don’t tempt myself, I go back to my corner and cover my head with the pillow, telling myself that I can do this.
The next time I wake up, the tray is gone. In its place is a banana. God, I want to eat it so bad. Holding it up to the camera, I squeeze it until the innards pop out and then throw it against the wall.
“I’m not eating your food,” I call out to the empty room. “And you can’t make me.”
The thing is, I know there are ways he can make me eat if he wants. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.
“I need to know where Chip and Belle are. Are they okay?”
Talking out loud makes me feel better, which is an odd discovery. Maybe it’s because it lets me know that I’m not alone. That I’m still here, alive and kicking. I sit on the bed this time, looking right at the camera.
“This is really messed up. You have to realize that. I mean, whobuysa person? And why me? I’m no one special.” I sigh. “Please let me know if Chip and Belle are okay. That’s all that I ask.”
Nothing happens. But several hours later, another food tray is shoved into the room. I glimpse the person. They’re wearing a black ski mask, so I can’t see their face. Judging by their height and build, it’s a man. What kind of person is okay with what’s happening to me? I guess it’s possible they didn’t have a choice. Sighing, I take the water bottle from the tray and go to my corner where I pretend that I’m drinking wine and dining on steak. The same steak that’s tempting me from across the room.
The next day starts similarly. Only this time, I finally have to use the bucket in the corner to relieve my bladder. I keep the blanket wrapped around me, glaring at the camera the entire time.
“This is degrading. At least give me toilet paper!”
My food tray comes a bit later. On top sits a roll of toilet paper. So they can hear me? I’m so angry that I throw the tray against the wall. There’s nothing breakable on it, but it still makes a mess. Grabbing the water bottle, I go to my corner, facing the wall. Hot tears fall down my face, but I’m not about to let the Beast know that he’s getting to me.
Time drags on until the door opens and another tray slides my way. I wonder how long they’re going to keep doing this? Eventually, someone is going to have to come and clean in here. Right?
I think I’m handling everything well until the lights go out. Sitting in the dark makes everything feel more ominous. Something scrapes the wall near me, and I jump, whimpering.
“It’s nothing,” I try to tell myself.
But it doesn’t feel like nothing. By the time the lights come back on, I’m openly crying. My relief doesn’t last long, though, because the lights flicker once before going out. I try to tell myself that it could be the wiring. This is an old house, and things like that happen. But the little red light on the camera continues to flash. Taunting me. Reminding me that my life is no longer my own. I crawl to the corner, wrapping the blanket around myself. I can survive this. I have to.
Time loses meaning. Trays come with food that I refuse to eat, and the lights are off more often than on. The day that I can’t bring myself to move when the door opens is the first time that I wonder if this is what the Beast had planned all along. To break me one day at a time. That makes me grit my teeth. I’ll show him. Eventually, he’ll be back. And when he does, he’s going to regret the day that he took me.
* * *
Luca
Henri paces the room, making me want to scream. I don’t. I would never show an outburst of emotion like that.
“It’s been four days. How much longer can she go without eating?”
Maurice, who’s tinkering with something in the corner, answers, “A human can go three weeks without food as long as they’re drinking enough water.”
“There you go.”
