I pray silently that she feeds me like she’d started to yesterday. On the first night, she loosened my hands and let me feed myself, but I guess she sees it as a bad idea now. As she picks up the fork to feed me, I breathe a sigh of relief internally. I know if she attempts to take the rope off, she'll see the mark the sharp edge on the bed leg has inflicted on it, and I don't know how she’d react. I shift to make more space for her.
She stabs at a couple of fries, dips them in sauce and raises them toward my mouth. I open my mouth wide and close it around the fork before she pulls it back out. While I chew, I watch her facial expression. She's not noticed the sweat on my forehead, thanks to the not-so-bright yellow bulb. Although the bulb makes the room hotter than it should be, I'm happy it's not a revealing white one.
"Like I told you before. If you tell me who sent you to get those files, I will release you."
I swallow but say nothing.
She continues. "I know you're not doing this on your own. I know someone sent you. I know, Bria. Do you want to be free?"
I nod.
"Then tell me who sent you?"
She notices I'm swallowing hard, so she lifts the glass of water and I take a sip. She stares at me intently, then gives me another forkful of fries and sauce. The garlic is excessive, but I don’t complain.
"I know Micha didn't send you, because it was her files you copied. I mean, you can't be spying on the person who sent you. Is it someone in the office? Or is it just the police? You told me the office is being investigated. What is the name of the officer in charge of the investigation?"
I don't answer.
She drops the fork and picks up the gun at the foot of the bed. She walks slowly to the chair in the corner and sits in it. I can't see her face properly.
"Do you want to stay here forever? You will have to give up this person or people eventually. You know that, right?"
I sigh and wish I could continue eating. I'm famished.
I can't give up Myles. I can't. I'd never be able to forgive myself. Yes, I want to be free. I want to get out of this airless room. I want to be able to use my hands again, but that comes at a great cost. What if I told her it's Myles? They’ll go after him, and it will be unexpected; he won't be able to defend himself. Also, he has a child. A beautiful daughter. What if they target her? I say ‘they’ because I know Daisy isn't working alone. Just yesterday someone came to the house. I didn't see who it was, but I knew. I heard them speaking in hushed tones. She just said she knows Micha isn’t responsible, so I know she can't be in cohorts with Micha. What if I tell her and she kills me? I'm guessing she’s only keeping me alive because she wants me to reveal who I’m working with. I’m convinced it’s the only thing keeping me alive. It's not like she can just let me go free now, knowing what I know.
"You know I'm not a bad person, right?"
I'm still not answering. I'm not sure anymore, to be honest. I'd thought Daisy was one of the most honest people I knew. I mean, we were pretty close. Maybe not as close as Ava and me, but she was the closest colleague to me. I thought I knew her until three days ago.
"I don't know. I used to think you were a good person. But I don't know anymore," I say, trying to goad her into talking.
She chuckles but I can hear the bitterness beneath it. "I'm not a bad person. I'm just a person trying to survive."
I shake my head. "If everyone used that excuse as a get-out-of-the-horrible-things-they've-done card, do you think there'd be any good people around?"
She chuckles again. "I'm not using it as any card. I'm just telling my reality. And I'm only saying this to you because you were my officemate."
Oh, officemate. That's what I've been demoted to now? Cool.
"I'm not a bad person. I've just been dealt a bad hand in life. Have you seen how I live? Is this shabby house befitting a lawyer? Or anyone, for that matter."
Well, she’s right. I'd always thought that Daisy’s house was in bad shape—I never mentioned it to her because I never want to be offensive to others, but I've always wondered, since she earns a decent salary. But that still doesn’t excuse her getting involved in fraud.
"Is it befitting? Would you live in this type of house? Answer me, Bria. Would you?"
When I don't answer, she continues. "I'm so grateful to my mom for leaving it to me. But I can't even maintain the house. It's falling apart, and if something isn't done about it soon, I'll lose it. I bet you wonder what I use my salary for?" she sighs. "I spent all of my money on my sick mother. She had no insurance. I was trying to keep her alive so that I wouldn't be left alone in this world. But after borrowing and borrowing to take care of her, she died. And now I'm left to pay back all of the money I borrowed. I don't have anything left for myself."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I say in a low tone. I'd not expected her story to be this sad. I guess I didn’t know her after all. Now I know where all her money’s been going.
"No, you're not sorry. You wouldn't know what this feels like. You've never had to struggle in your life."
"That's not true. I've had to work hard for the life I have now, and I lost my own mother when I was just a kid," I cut in sharply.
"Yeah, but…" she says, but trails off. "Anyway, when Ben approached me with a proposal, I was skeptical at first, but I saw it as a way to get out of this life."
"Wait. Ben is in on it?"