Page 21 of Caging Liberty
Fuck, I hate him. I don’t know him, but I hate him. He’s like a lifeboat in the distance, leisurely drifting this way, but I’m already drowning, and he must know it.
How pathetic do I look right now?
Anger heats my skin, melding with so much grief that it’s a confusing combination.
Don’t go.
I hate you.
Help me.
Kill yourself.
Confusing. Just so fucking confusing.
“Okay,” he says, turning his back to me.
“Why are you here?” my voice cracks.
He sighs and turns to face me. His palm extends, gesturing toward the meager offering. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“I’m not stupid.” I take a breath and try to make my voice steady. “I know this is some kind of fucked-up game you’re playing with me. If you felt bad for me, you’d bring more than a granola bar.”
He frowns then glances down at the offering like he’s just now considering that. If he’s acting, he’s doing a good job.
Sawyer was able to subdue the other women. He was able to confuse them, just like I’m confused now. Is that what this guy’s trying to do to me? Subdue me, tame me, trick me like they’ve tricked the others?
Whoishe?
And if he is just trying to pacify me … why is it working so well?
“Would you like something else to eat?” he asks, his voice deceptively innocent. “We could go upstairs. I think there’s plenty of dinner left over. Margarette made roasted duck.”
My stomach twists, and I try not to let the pain show on my face. He gave me another piece of information with that, although I’m not sure it was worth the imagery that makes my mouth water.
It’s nighttime.
“And what would we do after?” I ask, injecting venom into my words. “I’m assuming you’d expect me to sleep with you.”
He raises a brow like I’m being crazy. Like I’m not a prisoner on an island of sex slaves.
“I want to phrase this as delicately as I can because I’d hate for you to take offense, but you aren’t exactly in the best shape to be lustworthy. I think you could use a few good meals and at least one good night’s sleep. A shower wouldn’t hurt.”
“So that I can make myself ‘lustworthy?’ ”
“No, so that you don’t die.”
My lungs seize at that. I know it’s stupid because, of course, they’ll eventually kill me. It’s been a struggle determining which fate is worse, dying or giving in. I still don’t know, but hearing the possibility of them killing me out loud makes it scarier somehow.
“The human body can survive about two months without food, as long as it’s hydrated. That’swithoutthe little bit of food I’m bringing you. You have plenty of time to continue your hunger strike if that’s what you want, but I’d suggest ending it sooner rather than later. You’re getting dangerously close to mental health damage you won’t be able to come back from. Sawyer is forgiving, but he has his limits, and a slave who starts rubbing feces on the walls is one of them. You understand what I’m saying?”
I look down at my knees as my mind goes to the food mere feet away. I could devour it in a single bite. I just don’t want to do it in front of Mr. A.
“I’m not on a hunger strike. I’m being starved.”
“You’re beingstubborn,” Mr. A counters. He lifts his eyes and points to the camera overlooking the cell. “You have the option of going upstairs with the rest of the whores anytime you choose. Just say the word.”
“Don’t call us that,” I snarl, my eyes narrowing.