Page 20 of Lost Petal

My heart stalls when he walks past me, heading toward the door.

“Wait!” I call out. “What do you mean? You would let me out? Is that the treat I’d get?”

He stops mid-motion, and even with his back turned to me, it’s not hard to imagine the triumphant smile on his face.

“Maybe,” he says, turning back to me.

“Maybe? Why would I lift a finger for ‘maybe’?”

The dark chuckle that escapes him sends a cold shiver down my spine. I hate the condescending undertone of it. And the look on his face only makes matters worse.

“You have a point,” he says, much to my surprise. “But I can’t give you more than that, Petal. You misbehaved.”

He pauses and points at the mess on the floor. The letters have been destroyed by his negligent steps when he marched inside the room, but the remnants of my misdeed are still sprawled out on the floor.

“I gave you food, and you played with it like an ungrateful brat,” he assesses. “You’ll have to even the score before I can even begin to think about giving you something in return.”

Frustration boils hot within my chest. I want to object to him, to yell at him, tell him what a sick bastard he is for doing this to me.

I want to be strong. I want to fight him on everything he asks of me, because his demands are insane. This whole situation is insane. Everything about this is wrong and sick, and he acts as if I owe him something. As if I have to make amends for anything.

But if I do play along? What if it really is my only way out? The only way to get answers?

What if being strong means obliging to his commands, if only to receive what I deserve.

Answers. Clarity. Freedom.

My knees bend before I can stop myself, before there’s time for me to question. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of a verbal agreement, but I am willing remove the mess I created. One by one, I pick up the messy crumbs, crawling on the floor in front of him while his watchful eyes rest on my every move.

The humiliation is sickening, and I make sure to keep my head down, not as a display of submission, but to avoid the disgrace of meeting his elated grin above me. I couldn’t stand it. I wouldn’t be strong enough. Facing his triumph would stop me in an instant and bring back the unruly child that fights him with every breath.

I’ve realized I can’t be that person if I want to get out of here alive, if I want to reclaim anything of what I have lost. Every single crumb of that dumb sandwich I pick up from the floor will me get closer to that goal, back to that mysterious life which has been taken from me.

I’m not sure how to proceed once I’ve gathered all the pieces from the floor, so I just pile them up as neatly as possible before gathering the ripped-up sandwich in my hands and placing it on the little plate on the tray that it was brought on. Dust and dirt have gathered among the ingredients of what was once a decent snack, making my stomach turn just looking at it.

“I should make you eat that,” he says, as if he could hear my disgusted musings.

I’m still on my knees, my head tilting back as my shoulders tense up.

“Please,” I utter. “Don’t make me. I did what you told me to.”

He’s standing tall before me, his hands buried in his suit pants pockets as they almost always are, slowly shaking his head while his dark gaze rests on me.

“Oh, Petal,” he says. “Don’t underestimate the weight of your debt to me.”

I shiver when he lowers himself down on his knees right in front me, bringing himself closer to my eye level while still hovering above me. His mere presence is so intimidating and mesmerizing at the same time. How can a man be so handsome, yet so cruel?

I don’t shy away when he moves his hand below my chin, pinching it between his index finger and thumb while studying my fearful expression with a benevolent smile on his face.

“We’re only getting started,” he says, uttering a promise that chills my blood.

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