Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
All I can do to pass the time is read and watch TV, but that gets boring fast when there are only old cable networks, and I’ve already read more than half of the books here.
At night, someone knocks on my door. I sit up in my bed with curiosity, still wearing that stupid dress, expecting it to be him. Instead, it’s that same girl who first came into my room to clean up the mess I made and give me some pills. She looks at the nightstand for a brief second, the pills still there as a stark reminder that I don’t trust her or anyone else in this house.
She clears her throat and brings in a tray filled with food that immediately draws my attention away from the mistrust and forces me to remember my own growling stomach.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she says as she places the tray on a table near the door. “The cooks made this especially for you.”
Cooks? So the guy is rich, after all.
“If you have any special dietary wishes, please let me know.”
Dietary wishes? What is this, a restaurant?
“Nothing too special, just … if you have allergies or anything.” The way she tucks her hair behind her ear reminds me of myself. “Well, bon appetit.”
When she opens the door again, I say, “Wait.”
She pauses for a moment. It’s my only chance.
“Who is that man? Eli? And what does he want from me?”
“Eli merely wants to give you what he wants to give all of his guests,” she explains. “Peace.”
“Peace?” I frown, confused.
She touches her temple. “Peace of mind.”
That makes no sense at all, and I fold my arms in protest. “Drugging someone and then locking them up in your house? That’s one heck of a way to give someone peace of mind.”
She doesn’t blink. She just stares at me as if our conversation doesn’t even faze her. “Eli does what he has to do to give you what you need.”
What he has to do?
As she steps out, one foot already outside the door, I call out again. “Wait! Why did he do this? Why me?”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “Ask him.”
Then she closes the door. I groan and fall back onto the bed. They’re all so cryptic and never actually answer any of my questions with any explanations. It’s like no one wants me to understand. Or maybe they think I won’t. But then why am I here? He told me this was my punishment, but what does that even mean? What kind of disciplining does he have in mind, or is being locked in here my punishment?
Not to mention that I don’t even know what I’m being punished for. Or why I asked for it in the first place.
I rub my eyes in annoyance and then sit back up again. No point in pondering when nothing can give me answers. Not until he comes back anyway, which I’m sure he will. And I’m going to need all the energy I can get to deal with him.
So I sit down at the table and look at the tray. It’s filled with plates of delicious food—rump steak with sauce, baked and salted potatoes with thyme, and a few veggies covered in cheese.
I pick up the fork, my stomach protesting against my anger. But a note underneath the cutlery makes me stop in my tracks. I pick it up and read it.
Eat. Be ready. Tonight.
Eli
The fork in my hand shakes as I try to control my fear, rage, and tears. They all hit at once like a wave crashing into the beach. The food in front of me suddenly doesn’t look so appetizing anymore.
I am giving this man what he wants by eating this. So I shove away the tray and sit down on the bed again, forcing my stomach to curb its appetite. Even though the sweet aromas are tempting, I will not give in. If this will displease him, then so be it. At least I stood my ground. If I’m too frozen to speak or move, at least this way I can show him I don’t intend to play along with this charade.
He’s going to tell me exactly why I’m here and what he plans to do with me. And then I’ll see what options I have to get out of this mess.
After waiting for what feels like hours, someone knocks on the locked door.
“Come in,” I mutter, but I doubt they’d wait for me to reply.
The door handle is pushed, and in steps that same guy. Eli. The man who took me from the comfort of that library I love so much into this gilded cage.
I don’t know why he knocks when I’m not the one who decides if he comes in or not. I don’t have a key … he does, so all of this is just formalities, a nicety to make me believe I have power when I have none. My freedom literally rests in the palm of his hands.