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)
I shove it back even harder than before, throw my cutlery onto the table, and scoot my chair back, standing up in defiance against my captors.
“No.” I say it with such certainty that I almost have myself fooled.
My heartbeat rapidly increases at the sight of his eyes that flash with rage. It can only mean one thing … punishment.
Eli
All the forks and knives are placed down on the table.
What is she doing?
Is she trying to … defy me?
A smile tugs at my lips. Well … I never imagined she’d have this much spunk left in her after what I did. But maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised either, considering I picked her.
“Shouldn’t have done that, angel,” I murmur.
I raise my hand, and her eyes follow. As my fingers snap, her pupils dilate, and two of my men appear from the sidelines to take her away.
She doesn’t squeal, doesn’t kick, doesn’t even fight them off. Like a true queen, she accepts her defeat and walks with them, as though she knew this was the only outcome to her defiance. With grace, she allows them to escort her out of the room, but right before she exits, she still throws one last glance over her shoulder.
Not at the food, though I’m sure she’s more than hungry and wishing she would’ve stayed. No, the stare is directly pointed at me, as a sort of threat. As if she means to say … I might give in now, but I’m not going to yield to you.
But we both know I will never stop until she does.
And when that time comes, I will savor it most of all.
Chapter 13
Amelia
A hundred and thirty hours.
I counted each minute.
Not at the beginning … when it was still easy, and I still had energy left to entertain myself in other ways, like by reading one of the many books from the bookshelf on the wall or cleaning the room I was forced to inhabit anyway. But slowly, my vision started blurring with each letter I tried to read, and my body was quaking every time I tried to scrub the sink with a cloth from the stack. And eventually, I could only lie in bed and wait.
And wait I have … every minute spent counting the time.
Next to the locked door, that clock hanging on my wall, ticking away, is my biggest enemy right now. It forces me to come face-to-face with my new reality: That I am stuck here and don’t know for how long.
A hundred and thirty hours … that’s how long I’ve been here since I told Eli “no.”
I didn’t know then what it would mean.
What I would be giving up.
That it would force me not to only admit that I am not free to do what I want, say what I want … but also that each of my actions have consequences.
Instead of eating that scrumptious food, I chose to deny him just because of fear and pride.
It’s the last time I saw food.
Any kind, whatsoever.
I’ve been drinking water from the tap from a glass ever since. Just a few gulps at first to quench my thirst, but as the days passed, I started replacing the emptiness in my stomach with water. At least it would calm my hunger for a little while to make me forget.
But every passing day has made me shakier, more tired, more … everything.
The more I force myself to think of something else, the less it works. Food is all I can think about even though I know I’ll survive. At least, for now. A human body is capable of so much. But I never imagined the mental toll it takes, and that, more than anything, is the real struggle.
With every passing second, I grow more lethargic and complacent.
Soon, my resolve will crumble.
I will beg.
I will plead.
Even if the food is poisoned, I would probably eat it with glee, knowing it was my last meal … at least I’d die with a full stomach.
I can’t think like that, but being hungry does that to a person’s mind.
Maybe this is my real punishment. Not the lack of food but the breakdown of all the resolve and dignity that comes with it.
Groaning, I roll over in bed, but my growling stomach won’t stop waking me up. I can’t fucking sleep, not when I lie down nor when I sit up, and it’s maddening.
All I can think of is slamming my fists onto that door and begging.
Beg for them to let me out.
Tell them I’m willing to do anything …
But what would that make of me?
Would I be a coward for giving in?
All of it, the defiance, staying here without food, the buzzing panties … will all have been for nothing.
But I can’t take it anymore.
With the last bit of energy I have left, I throw the blanket off and set my feet on the floor. I groan and force myself to ignore the looming headache as I get up and walk to the door. I reach for the wood with a shaky hand and pound on it a few times.