Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“I’m used to being lonely.”
“I hear your prayers in the dark, songbird. I hear your wishes for someone to save you. Your father. Nikolai… Who is Nikolai?”
“A friend,” I answer him, feeling the pain and agony sweep over my body. And feeling like a liar. The word friend sounds false even to my own ears, but it’s been so long since Nikolai was anything else. And a friend is what he needed to be. Nothing more. Or else my father would have found out.
“Wrong answer. He is no one anymore. They’re all gone, and no one is coming to save you.”
“Gone?” The word comes out like a question, but the monster in front of me doesn’t answer. My eyes close as I inhale deeply, thinking he’s lying. They’re coming. They’ll come for me.
“You’re bored, alone, and starving yourself into nothing. You will submit to me, or you will stay like this forever.”
My lips kick up into a small smile I can’t contain, and I don’t know why. I must be going crazy.
“You think that’s funny?” A hint of anger greets his words and it only makes my smile grow, but it’s accompanied with tears leaking from the corner of my eyes. And I don’t even know when I started crying.
Shaking my head, I brush away the tears from just under my eyes. “It’s not funny, no. And now it’s your turn.” He’s going to keep me here like this? He could keep me here forever.
Even as I think the statement, the overwhelming loneliness consumes me. I have nothing and this prison is eating my sanity alive. Hours pass where I simply stare at the wall, praying it will offer me something different than the day before.
He watches me as I sway from side to side slightly.
“What does submit mean?” I talk over him just as he starts to speak. My words are harsher than I thought they’d be and he cocks his brow, not answering me and then asks his question.
Rules of the game, I suppose.
“What is your favorite food?”
Dizziness overwhelms me for a moment and I rest my head against the wall. He’s going to win this game. And all the others. He’s cheating and I’m deteriorating.
“Bacon, I guess. Everyone loves bacon,” I answer halfheartedly, partly because I’m tired of this game already and partly because I need a little humor in this situation. “There’s this sandwich from the corner store by my house. My mother used to take me there.” I stare at the ceiling while I talk, not really to him, but just to talk and think about something other than this. Although it’s nice to have someone around. I feel an empty hollowness inside of me. I’d rather that than the sickening feeling of defeat.
Licking my lower lip, I continue. “She took me there every weekend. Coffee and pastries for her, but they had this sandwich I loved, and they still have it. It’s turkey and bacon with ranch dressing on a pretzel roll.” My head lolls to the side and I glance at Cross, whose usual stern expression has been replaced by a look of curiosity. “I think that may be my favorite.”
The memory of my mother makes me smile and I almost tell him more. I almost tell him about the day she died and how we went there first. But she didn’t get her usual pastries or coffee, and we didn’t stay long. I was so upset that she didn’t get me my sandwich, but she promised we’d get it tomorrow.
If I hadn’t been so young and foolish, I would have known what was happening. How my mother was running from someone she’d spotted. How she ran home for protection, only to find the monster was already there.
God, I miss her. I miss anyone and everyone. I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d become.
“Would you like to go home when this is over?” Cross’s question distracts me from the thoughts of the past.
“When it’s over?” I ask for clarification and I only receive a nod from him.
A deal with the devil. It’s all I can think. The war doesn’t matter, even if that’s what he’s hinting at. He’ll keep me however long he wants, regardless of what he tells me now.
“You already know the answer to that.” They’re the only words I give him. It’s my turn once more, so I ask him again, “What do I have to do to leave?”
“There is no leaving unless I want you to leave.”
“Then why I am here?” The desperation is evident.
“I’ve already told you. I want you to submit to me. To desire my touch and earn it by kneeling and waiting to obey me. To be mine, in every way.”
“You know that would never happen,” I say absently. “I’ll stay in this room forever or wait for something else to happen. I have nothing but time.”