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But Robert hadn’t brought anything down for her. And she sincerely doubted Brenda would want her upstairs, not after what she’d done the day before.
“Crawl back to your cage, bad little froggy,” Robert said in a loud voice. “Bad little frogs don’t deserve food or water.”
Jane’s heart sank. With no other choice, she crawled wearily back to her cage and onto the rumpled blankets.
Robert crouched in front of her. To her surprise, instead of closing and locking the cage door, he tossed something flat and rectangular into the cage first, reaching in to cover it with a bit of her blanket. “Make sure she doesn’t see you eating it,” he whispered.
Now she understood why he’d spoken in a loud voice before. He was doing it for Brenda, who was no doubt watching and listening on the screen upstairs.
He continued staring at her, making her uncomfortable, as if he were trying to see inside her head. “Hey, frog. Jane,” he finally murmured, speaking so softly she had to lean forward to hear him. “I’m really sorry”—he broke off. He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done that yesterday.” He bit his lower lip, as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he turned away and got to his feet.
“It’s been real, kid,” he said, again using that loud, theatrical voice of a moment before.
Cold terror trickled down her spine like ice. Robert had never apologized to her for anything before. It’s been real, kid. What did that mean? Was he saying goodbye? Was this her last day alive?
She lay still for a long time. Her lungs seemed to have collapsed. She couldn’t draw in enough air.
Breathe. Breathe. Don’t panic. Focus. Form a plan.
She had a weapon—two weapons. She reached under the blankets at the back of the cage, her fingers closing around the screwdriver and the box cutter. If they came for her, she would fight tooth and nail.
But maybe it wouldn’t come to that. If she managed to still be alive by nightfall, she’d make her attempt tonight, in those silent hours just before dawn when she was sure they were asleep. She’d grab one of Brenda’s coats from the downstairs hall closet, snag a set of keys and make her escape, once and for all. If they caught her in the process, she’d rather go down that way, than wait in helpless dread in her cage.
Calmer now that she’d made her decision, she reached beneath the blanket for whatever it was he’d tossed into the cage. She shifted so her back was to the camera, shielding the item from view. It was an entire Hershey’s milk chocolate bar!
Jane’s mouth filled with saliva as she stared down at the treasure with awe. Cautiously, she tore open the wrapper. The scent of rich, sweet chocolate assailed her. Twelve little squares of pure heaven. Bringing it close to her nose, she inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering closed with bliss.
She broke off a square and placed it on her tongue. She sucked it a moment and then chewed, too hungry to make it last. Her taste buds kindled, her appetite raging, she ate five more squares before regaining enough control to slow down. She thought about saving the second half for later, but was too hungry, and too afraid it might be discovered and taken from her, to do so.
She sucked each square until it melted on her tongue, coating her mouth with the smooth, sweet confection. When the last one was consumed, she drank from her water bottle, which was nearly empty. Robert hadn’t refilled it that morning, no doubt on Brenda’s orders. Jane forced herself to take only a few sips. Then she rubbed her teeth with her blanket, once again fervently wishing for a tube of toothpaste.
All those little luxuries she’d taken for granted in her past life—brushing your teeth, eating when you were hungry, walking in the sunshine, sleeping in a real bed, showering every day, wearing clothes, driving a car, talking to a friend…
How she would cherish that life, that freedom.
“One time left, thirty eight, two times right, forty nine, one time left, sixteen,” she mouthed, reciting the combination lock digits. Tonight was the night. She had to get herself free, even if it meant she died trying.
Jane awoke some time later, relieved to escape a frightening nightmare. Her leg muscles were sore from the unusual exertion of the day before during her attempted swimming escape. That was good. Sore muscles meant they were being used—getting stronger.
Based on her once again empty stomach, she surmised that several hours had passed since Robert had come downstairs. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Forcing her thoughts away from any frightening speculation, she made herself go through her daily exercise regime, using isometrics to work every muscle until she was exhausted. She took another few sips of water and stared for a long while out the window. It was raining outside, the small pane of glassed speckled with droplets of water, the occasional crack of thunder audible in the distance.
