Page 10 of Don't Say A Word

Now I am the dog. But the man before me would easily outrun me. He would out-maneuver me. Overpower me.

I study him again, trying to burn his features into my mind. His lips are full and soft, in direct contrast to the rest of his appearance. His eyes are sunken and hooded with darkness bruising the skin beneath. The shape of them turns down at the edges, marring him with melancholy even though at the moment they are spiked with curiosity.

He is watching. Waiting. Interested to see my response to his command. His eyes shift to the lash on the floor and then back to me with a question. “The choice is yours,” he says finally.

Choice. As if I have one. I have a choice between options but true choice was taken from me the moment I woke in this hellhole.

I’m pretty sure I could sustain quite a few lashes before he would break me. In fact, I’m not sure if he could break me with the lash alone. And that scares me. If I don’t obey now, if I don’t bend to his will, what other methods will he choose?

He is the one with the choice. Not me.

Without removing my eyes from his, I rock forward onto my knees and drop my hands to the floor. I begin to crawl. He shifts in his seat, uncrossing his arms and resting his hands on his thighs, straightening his back.

I keep crawling until my head nearly rests on his knee and then I rock back, kneeling before him again, my gaze still locked on his.

His eyes narrow. He swallows. “Are you hungry?”

I don’t say a word.

He nods once and gets to his feet. I don’t shy away from his closeness. Instead, I raise my head and continue to stare at him.

“Wait here.”

I would go somewhere else in a heartbeat. But I can’t. I’m trapped here with whoever this man is, to be whatever I am requested to be.

I don’t watch as he leaves. I look at the small red pebble caught among the shades of gray and wait for his return. He brings fruit this time. Pineapple, melon and grapes. He clearly doesn’t want me to starve.

Unmoved from my position, he sits before me again, taking a knife from his pocket and slicing into a thick chunk of pineapple. The blade glistens, calling to me, but when I move my gaze back to him, he is watching, a slight look of amusement on his face at my obsession over the knife. He knows what I am thinking.

“Open.”

I obey.

He feeds me, placing a juicy piece of pineapple into my mouth. Instantly, I salivate with the sweetness. Placing the knife on the ground, he reaches forward and rubs his thumb over my jawline before gripping my chin viciously and pulling my mouth open once the pineapple is gone. His thumb, rough and calloused, slides over my teeth, dipping into my mouth and pulling my jaw down further. The pad of his thumb is wet when it runs over my bottom lip roughly. He runs it back and forth, pushing the sag of my lip from side to side before cupping my cheek.

I stay frozen, nothing moving apart from my eyes which remain locked on him, only moving when he does. He flicks his gaze between my eyes and where his hand drags over my skin, molding and bending it to his will. Exploring lower, I’m reminded of the sensitivity of my situation when his fingers wrap around my throat. Even though my heart is pounding, even though terror is flowing as blood through my veins, I keep my eyes locked on his. I don’t want to succumb. I don’t want to show my fear even though he has already seen it.

The pressure on my neck increases and his eyebrow twitches as though challenging me to look away, challenging me to submit to his unspoken threat. I blink once. His hand moves back up until his fingers dig into the soft flesh under my jaw. He tilts my head from side to side as if examining me, and then his hand falls lower.

I want to close my eyes. I want to escape his cold expression as the roughness of his hands causes my skin to prickle. He leans forward when he palms my breast, his eyes only inches from mine. Then his gaze follows the fall of his hand as he flicks his thumb over my nipple. It hardens. I want to curse my body for its betrayal, especially when his eyes move back to mine and a smirk teases the corners of his mouth. He leans back in the chair, slouching so his legs move further apart and rests his hands behind his head. One eyebrow flicks upward in amusement.

“What’s that look supposed to mean?”

For a moment I forget. For a moment I am concerned about his opinion of me, and it sickens me. I don’t let my fear show, though I’m sure he notices the gulp of air I swallow nervously as I wait to see if I will be punished for speaking.

His gaze scans my body as though it’s the first time he’s noticed I am naked. He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

My body is taut but inwardly I slump with relief.

Reaching down, he plucks a grape and holds it before me. “Open.”

He feeds me each piece of fruit until the plate is bare. Apart from the knife. It is large and sharp. If he’s brought it here to frighten me, it hasn’t worked. All I can think about is using it on him.

Then he instructs me to stand and I obey without hesitation. There is some part of me that believes him when he says he doesn’t want to hurt me. But there is also a part of me that is terrified of what he’ll ask me to do. I push that part to the side. There is no point in listening to it. Not yet. But it scolds me for giving in so easily.

Getting to his feet he takes my wrists in his hands and pulls them high over my head, replicating the position I was in when chained.

“Stay.”

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