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"Because you're a psychopath," I tell him.
"And you think I'll do exactly what with you down here?"
"I don't know." I scoff, angry, confused, and afraid. "You're the psychopath, not me."
He clasps his hands together in front of himself, like he's a priest patiently waiting to take my confession.
"Baby girl, look at the bed and figure it out."
I look at the food on the bed.
"I see food," I say stupidly.
"And what do people normally do with food?"
"Eat it," I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. "You already said that."
"Would I tell you to eat the food if I took you all the way down here just to harm you?"
He cocks his head at me again, and I can't take the way he's looking at me right now with the fire playing in his hair and the dim light of the room tanning his otherwise pale skin. He's both gorgeous and frightening. I swallow hard and bury the attraction. I'm not about to develop Stockholm Syndrome in this bitch.
"I don't know what you plan to do with me," I say. "You're the one who trapped me in here."
"And you're the one who's intentionally acting obtuse." He blinks at me. "I've always tried to help you, Avery."
"Why?"
"Call it altruism."
"I think I'll call it kidnapping instead."
It doesn't even faze him.
"Why are you fighting this?" he asks. "Why are you so scared of being saved?"
"I'm not scared of being saved. I'm scared of you."
"And everyone else apparently," he scoffs, his palms hitting his knees. "You've never once let anyone help you, Avery. Why is that? Do you not believe you are worth saving?"
The barb stings.
"You never answered my question," I deflect. "Why help me?"
He looks up at the ceiling and the mirrors there that reflect a hundred faces I don't want to see.
"Fine," he says, before his gaze snaps back to me, "a question for a question then."
"I'm not answering anything from you."
He laughs. "I don't think you're in any position to negotiate."
Touché.
"Fine," I say, holding myself even tighter. "Agreed. So why me, Gabe?"
He smirks at the name and maybe I shouldn't have let it slip. I should have called him Gil or pretended to not remember it. Because we don't care about each other, right? I don't care about him.
"I don't give a fuck about saving you because of altruism," he admits. "I care because something about you quiets the noise."
