Page 33 of Little Puppet

“I’m trying to feed you, Cain. But you think I’m trying to poison you,” she mutters, jutting her chin up in fake confidence.

I can’t help the laugh that bursts free.

I cup her face in both my hands, the size of them swallowing her round features. “Becauseyouare a poison, little darling. And you are infecting me.”

Chapter 10

His admission has my stomach dropping out and my breaths shallow. His hands on mine feel like a command even though he’s ordered nothing of me. They say be still, and I won’t pounce.

My heart shouldn’t be beating so fast, and I shouldn’t have giddy energy in my veins at him saying I affect him. It’s fucked up. Everything is fucked up.

Even as I tell myself it’s just my brain and body’s way of trying to survive, I know I’m lying to myself that I’m ignoring all the signs that I’m attracted to my kidnapper.

The same man who ran me off the fucking road and turned me into a puppet.

“Go, sit,” he says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’ll make your plate since you so generously cooked for us.”

Tomorrow is Christmas day, and it’s the day he’s promised will be my end.

No one has come for me, and I don’t know if that means no one can find me or that he’s blocking them somehow. Did Mom try to find me, and the town somehow intervened?

I wonder if I’ll ever know. Or if I’ll go to his graveyard blissfully unaware of how many people were involved in the search for me.

I go to the table and sit next to his chair. I’d already set the table except for plates, and I bounce my knee as my back is turned to Cain, nerves gobbling up the idea he could be getting a knife right now, preparing to fillet me instead of letting me have my last meal.

I tried to get into his phone, but it was fingerprint-protected. I found it beneath his pillow in his room and saw the date and time, which oriented me a little bit. Knowing that it was Christmas Eve, four in the afternoon, made me feel more normal, so while he napped, I cooked a Christmas Eve meal.

I’m not a great cook, but I did what I could. I’d prepared roasted brussel sprouts I found in the fridge, some chicken breasts with butter and lemon pepper, and made rice, which I buttered to perfection before I was startled.

Cain comes to my right side, sliding my plate in front of me as he sits next to me with his own.

He sits back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Go on, puppet. Eat.”

He’s testing me. He made the plates to ensure I hadn’tdone anything to the food, and he’s going to watch me eat it to know if it’s been tampered with.

I shake my head, pulling my chair closer as I pick up my knife and fork and dig in.

“Oh, man. I was worried the chicken would dry out, but it’s so good,” I say, grabbing my glass of water and gulping some down before forking some rice into my mouth and following it with a Brussels sprout.

After about five minutes, he seems appeased and begins eating his food, all while eyeing me warily at the gesture.

It’s sad, really.

He’s a beautiful specimen of a man and a surgeon to boot. Women must fawn over him all the time, yet he seems as if no one’s ever cooked him a meal before.

“This is very good, puppet, I’ll admit.”

I smile, his praise going straight through my soul and coddling it.

I shake my head at myself inwardly.

What is the matter with you?

I’m long past the stage where I’ve gotten too complacent with my kidnapper and moving on to the stage where I’ve accepted my fate and am readying for the end.

“So, tomorrow, how will you…” I clear my throat, grabbing my water again. “You know, how will you do it? It won’t be another chase through the woods, will it?”

He sits back, using his napkin to dab at his lips. “You don’t want me to chase you, puppet?”

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