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“I need your help,” Joshua says over lunch one day. Six days have passed since he promised that donation to the shelter. I’ve started keeping track of time again, counting each day of my life that I’m trapped here.
I need to do that so I can stay angry at Joshua, because the new Joshua is addictive and I’m starting to crave his company too much. When he has to miss lunch because of work, I actually miss him. And I can’t stop thinking about what it felt like when he hugged me. I have to toughen up or I’ll lose myself to him. The idea of falling in love with him frightens me even more than the idea of being his mindless slave.
“We all have needs. For instance, I need a sharp knife so I can slit your throat,” I say, and I take a bite of quiche.
He ignores me. “Elizabeth fainted an hour ago, and she’s still losing weight. But she’s eating more than ever. I watch her eat, now, and she finishes everything on her plate. She should be gaining weight. There’s the possibility she has some kind of illness, but given how withdrawn and distressed she is, I think that it’s somehow psychological.”
“And?” I look up from my Portobello mushroom burger. “You know my feelings about Elizabeth, or frankly anyone who would choose to keep me prisoner. And before you start bringing up all the weepy girly crap about how much she suffered as a child, that’s all the more reason for her not to help keep another woman prisoner. My ultimate goal is to kill both of you. Squash you like cockroaches.”
His eyes snap with anger. “If you don’t help me, I’ll find a way to close down the shelter.”
Shock lashes through me at the thought of all those women being forced out onto the street, but I’ve been practicing hiding my emotions, and I just shrug. “Whatever.”
“My, my.” Joshua leans back in his chair and looks at me appraisingly, like a piece of art he might bid on. “What happened to kind, sweet, caring Tamara? Where did this nasty bitch come from?”
“Spending time with you was bound to rub off on me.” I shove my plate away. “Also, close the shelter down, and I will never voluntarily have sex with you again. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise.”
Frustration ripples over that perfect face of his, and it makes me happy. “Elizabeth could die.”
I put on the blank mask that I practice in the mirror every day. “Cool. One down, one to go.”
Joshua shakes his head, and contempt pinches those perfect features. He pushes his chair back and stands up. “Evil isn’t a good look on you, Tamara.”
“Would you let me go if I helped you? If it was the only way to save her life?” I call after him.
He shakes his head.
“Worth a try,” I say with a bitter laugh. “And good to know exactly how much of a selfish prick you are. You’d really let her die rather than set me free?”
“Absolutely.”
I feel a well of rage swelling up in me.How can he be so heartless?And this is the man Elizabeth would die for. Poor her.
He starts to walk away.
Something stirs inside me, sinking sharp little claws into my conscience. “Wait.”
He pauses and looks back at me expectantly
Why am I helping him? Why am I helpingher?
Because that’s who I am. Because if he kills that part of me, then he’s won.
“Do you have a camera in her room? In her bathroom?”
He looks confused. “No. I don’t need to. Why?”
“She’s making herself throw up.”
“She’swhat?” If the situation were different, the look of confusion on his face would be hilarious. It’s a sitcom twist of bewilderment. “Why would she do that?”
“Joshua. Is it really that difficult for you to see things through a normal human being’s eyes?”
“Yes. So help me.” He looks genuinely worried. He actually cares about her, as much as he’s capable of caring about anyone. “Please.”
“She can’t fight you directly, so this is her passive way of getting back at you. She’s hurting herself, and disobeying you, to spite you. You’re causing her an enormous amount of pain by having me here. She could live with you banging anonymous prostitutes, but this is different. You’re forcing her to watch you court me. You’re finally developing something resembling feelings for a woman—and it’s not her, and she’s lived her whole life for you. It’s got to be agony for her, every minute of every day.” As I say this, I finally start to feel a little bit sorry for Elizabeth.
I’m still very, very angry with her, but she’s such a pathetic, wretched soul, I have to pity her too.
