Page 19 of Blood Spilled
Why did I feel so lost? What has he done to me? I've messed up. There’s no gaining his trust after this and even if I did, he’d probably still kill me anyway. The truth is, now that I’m no longer caught in my father’s chains, I’m not ready to die. I’m ready to live for the first time ever.
Looks like my only chance at escaping might be for me to fight my way out. The longer I’m here the more I crave to be here—with him. That’s what he wants, and I can’t let him have it, not if he is just going to toss me away afterward. And yet it still pains me to think about how I mean nothing to him when he is the first thing I think of when I wake up.
I try to hate him every day. I should hate him. I say I do over and over in my head, wanting to mean the words. Instead, I need him to want me, to touch me, and to take me to higher places the way he did before. But this isn’t him winning, he only truly wins if he knows, and I can’t ever let him.
An unrecognizable man comes in after what feels like hours later, gathering my urinal and bedpan to empty them. He brings them back and nothing else. No food or water. I close my eyes again, tugging the blankets over my body, letting sleep take me. I wake to the sound of someone putting down a bowl of food, one of the men who’ve been in here before.
“Hi there. I brought you some soup. The boss thought you may like something warm. I got a spoon for you today too. I know the boss said no utensils, but you seem pretty harmless. Look at you, you can barely move. Maybe I should feed this to you.”
I continue to stare at him quietly and don't bother to sit up. He puts the spoon in the bowl and brings it to my lips. I part them, allowing it to slip inside with its contents. It's warm and delicious. It feels amazing and soothing against my throat. He's right, I do enjoy it and that makes me more angry.
He sent someone else in here to bring me something he thought I would enjoy without coming in here himself. Coward. The man lifts the spoon to my lips, feeding me until my closed lips prevent the spoon from passing.
“All done?” he asks. He is way too kind and doesn't deserve what I'm about to do to him, but it's the only way to get whatI want—to see Angel again, even if it's him coming in here to punish me.
I grab my chains under the blankets, getting ready for when he's close enough. “Come closer, please,” I whisper.
He tilts his head to the side. “What's that?”
“Closer,” I say again.
He leans in further, pressing his ear to my lips and that's when I quickly lift the chain that's attached to my wrist, wrapping it around his neck, pulling tight. He gasps and struggles to reach his neck with his hands. “I need Angel. Where is he?”
He struggles to breathe, his eyes roll back in his head, his body thrashing against me. I grab the spoon off the floor and hide it under the blanket, not letting go of the chain. The door swings open and Angel is fuming with anger. “What the hell are you doing? Let him go now.”
I immediately drop the chain, not needing to be told again. “I'm sorry, Master.” I crawl backward inside the cage. The man I nearly strangled gasps for air and reaches for his neck, falling back onto the floor. Another man comes in. Angel orders him to get the guy out of here and make sure he's okay. Everything happens so fast that I don't realize I'm being locked in the cage until it's too late.
“No, please,” I beg.
“It's a bit too late for that. You don't deserve these,” he shouts before grabbing the books from the floor and rushing out of the room. I push my back against the cage, burying my face in my hands, resisting the urge to burst into tears. I don't understand what I'm feeling. These emotions are something I haven't felt in a long time. I try not to think about it, because I don't want to understand them.
Closing my eyes, I try to fall asleep again so I can escape through my dreams. I think about the garden where I used to meet Andy. Where we shared so many kisses and innocenttouches. Angel's face kept replacing his every time I got closer. No, no, no.
The next time I open my eyes, my cage is wide open. With a bowl in his hand, the same guy is back with his neck covered in bruises. My stomach rumbles and I feel like I haven't eaten in ages. I can no longer taste the soup in my mouth. All I taste is cotton. I slowly reach my hand out to the steaming food. I don't care what it is anymore, I am desperate to have any kind of sustenance in my stomach. My body craves food, water and Angel.
When the man sets the bowl in front of me in the cage, he closes and locks the cage before immediately walking out. I attack it like a starved dog, tearing into the meat with my teeth. I shove handfuls of rice into my mouth, swallowing way too much at once, forgetting how raw my throat still is. The man comes back in with a bottle of water and, after draining every drop, I add it to my collection in the corner of the cage buried under my blanket.
No one enters the room for what feels like hours, and my bladder is nearing eruption. I've held it for so long, my stomach cramps. The moment I shut my eyes and start dozing off, the door opens again, but there’s still no Angel in sight. It's not the same guy from before either. It's someone else. Smaller and walking toward me with caution in his steps, he hands me a thicker blanket.
He opens the cage and quickly steps back to toss it inside, without saying anything. He doesn't lock it like the last guy. Even when they wouldn't lock it, I stayed in the cage, never going anywhere else I could reach in the room. If anyone I knew could see me now, they would wonder why I remain huddled inside. I probably wouldn't be able to give a logical answer. Something about the way the bars make me feel safe and how, every time I leave them, I feel so vulnerable and out in the open. Themlocking it didn't bother me much except for the fact the urinal and bedpan were outside the cage.
The man pulls something from the side pocket of his pants. It's a bottle of water, and he tosses it in the cage before leaving the room with not so much as a word. Did Angel advise them not to speak to me? Will I ever see him again?
I drain the bottle. Instead of adding it to my collection, I line the tip of my cock with the opening, releasing my bladder into the small container, hoping it's big enough to hold all the piss I've been holding. I sag in relief against the cage after the uncomfortable fullness in my stomach is no longer there. I lay out the new blanket. In the middle of getting myself in the perfect position for a nap, the door opens again and this time it's not one of Angel's silent men.
It's him, with a paper plate in his hands holding a stack of pancakes. “I've been told you've been a good little pet these last two days. That earns you a nice little reward.”
I stare at the blanket and then back at him. “I thought I’d already got it.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I can always take these to one of my men instead if you don't want them.”
I scoot closer to the edge of the cage. “No, please, Master. I want them.”
He smiles at the name and I know I'm back in his good graces. At least for now. It's where I need to be if I ever want to survive him. It's also where my body craves to be and the longer I'm here, the harder it is to fight. Kneeling, he places the plate in front of me.
“You ready to talk to me about what your mother is planning?”
I tug the food closer to me, inhaling the sweet vanilla and blueberries. “What do you mean? What makes you think I know anything about my mother's plans? For all I know she's as dead as my father.”
