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I mean sure, it's notdrip drip drip drip drip. But without the ability to turn the music off, it has that same maddening quality.
Whenever I catch myself looking at my co-captive, he’s already looking at me, watching in that silent way he does. Despite our shared situation, I can't help feeling like his prey. How hungry is he? Is he thinking about fucking me to get fed? Is he thinking about how easy it would be to just take me? Is he calculating how quickly his conscience might shut up if he just does what has been asked of him?
“You should try to get some sleep,” he finally says. His gaze shifts to the mattress beside him. An invitation?
“I-I'm fine.”
“I'd bring the mattress over to you, but it's somehow bolted to the floor. I'd switch places with you, but I need to be facing the door.”
The wall he sits against is directly opposite from the door to the outside world. My wall, the one I've been sitting against, is the same wall that door is on. The bathroom door is a third wall to my right and his left.
He moves a few feet over, so that he's more in direct alignment with the door he watches when he isn't watching me, but it isn't nearly enough space. “Come lie down. I won't touch you.”
I shake my head and stay where I am.
THREE
Idon't know how much time has passed, but I'm hungry,reallyhungry. I've been drinking water straight out of the bathroom sink, but it doesn't stop the hunger pangs.
He sits across the room, watching me, the same way he watched me when I first woke in the cell. I've slept a few times—on the floor—but I don't think that correlates with how many days I've been here. I think it's only been a couple of days.
I don't know. There’s no way to measure time.
We haven't really talked much. I'm not sure what one is supposed to talk about in this situation, and I think both of us are afraid that anything we say will give our captor additional ammunition to use against us.
Even though the mattress is only a few feet from him, he's chosen to sleep on the floor. He refuses to sleep on the mattress if I won't sleep on it, like he can't stand the idea of me sleeping naked on the cold, hard floor and him having some measure of comfort—like it offends his sensibilities somehow to the point that he's willing to be just as uncomfortable as me. And I've continually refused the offer.
Even if he'd move far away, I don't want to sleep on it while he sleeps on the floor, either, and if we both sleep on the mattress, I know what will happen next. It's impossible that with our hunger and that kind of proximity that his hands won't wander over my body, that he won't get on top of me and...
“Come here,” he says.
I swallow hard, but I don't move. Has he hit his limit with this? We both know what has to happen. Our captor hasn't spoken to us again. Who knows if he got bored and just decided to leave us here to die? Who knows if we'll get food even if we obey at this late stage?
He doesn't repeat his request, just continues to watch me. After a few minutes, he stands and walks across the cell. This is the first time he's been this close. I flinch when he reaches me.
He ignores my reaction and sits on the ground beside me, but he doesn't make any attempt to touch me. Instead, he sighs and says, “Starvation is a bad way to die.”
“I know,” I say.
“I don't think you do.”
I start to cry. It's the first time I've broken down since those first moments in the cell. Supposedly, if we have sex, we'll get food. And I want food, but then what happens? The longer I can delay this, the longer I delay the next steps in whatever sick game our captor is playing with us.
“You know what has to happen,” he says, echoing my exact thought of only minutes ago. “What’s the point of letting yourself get sicker and weaker than you need to be? You need your strength. You need to eat.”
“You meanyouneed to eat,” I say, unable to hide the bitterness seeping into my voice. So the nice guy act is finally ending? The gallant chivalry finally coming to an end. Everyone has a limit. And now I know his.
“I'll be fine,” he says. “I'll be fine a lot longer than you will. Are you going to let yourself starve to death?”
I chance a look into his eyes. “What do you think would happen to you if I did?”
He shrugs. “He'd probably take another girl, bring more bait to tempt me. He wants to turn me into a monster and you...or whoever... into a whore. That's my running theory, anyway.”
He stands and holds a hand out to me.
“What are you doing?”
“Remember what I said about the cameras and the bathroom?”
