AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You won't come in?”
He shakes his head. “I promise.”
“Do you think he'll starve us if we don't do what he says?”
He sighs. “Yes.”
I look away. I don't know what to say to this. It's not as though it would be any great tragedy to sleep with this beautiful man, but I don't think I can do it with someone else watching. I might feel differently about this when I get hungry enough.
Since I'm in no exact immediate danger, I don't cry again. I feel stupidly safer with this other man here even though I know obviously something bad is going to happen, things we'll both be forced to do together to survive. And in the end, we probably won't anyway.
“I'm going to take a bath,”
He nods. He doesn't turn away this time because I'm covered in a bath towel. It takes a while for the tub to fill up. I put in some raspberry bath oil and take one of the roses from the vase and sprinkle the petals in. I'm trying to feel normal. Inside this bathroom, I can pretend that things are somehow normal.
I sink beneath the steaming hot water and lean back against the rim of the tub, closing my eyes and listening to the classical music.
I stay like this until the water goes cool. But no matter what I do, I can't convince myself that I'm having a normal bath on a normal day.
As I'm getting out of the tub and drying off, it occurs to me, my co-captive knew about this bathroom. He knew about the towels. He could have covered me so I didn't wake up like that. He would have had to have been unconscious when I was brought in, of course. Maybe he'd woken up just before me and didn't have time. Maybe I was already stirring, and he didn't want to startle me. Or maybe... he liked the view and isn't that honorable.
I find myself unsettled by these possibilities as I return to the cell.
Hours pass. I try not to look at him, but I fail. There isn't much to look at or occupy my time. The music is becoming a little obnoxious, and to be honest, I would rather have the silence. It's like Chinese water torture.
I mean sure, it's not drip 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.
3
I don't know how much time has passed, but I'm hungry, really hungry. 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?
