Page 32 of His

The hours blended into each other. It had been two days since I had gotten kidnapped. Two? Or three? I could feel the effects of my meds beginning to ebb. Anxiety was creeping back into my body.

In the darkness of the basement my fingers twitched as I huddled against the wall. Blind as I was, I could almost conjure up the vision of the pill bottle in my mind. The feeling of twisting the hard plastic lid off, digging through the cotton balls for the tiny small pills that would calm me down.

There was no calm here, and I breathed slowly, trying to keep myself from having a panic attack. As much as most people mind the dark, I didn’t particularly care whether or not I had a light on in the basement. When I was a kid, I never had to have a nightlight. I loved building fortresses under my bed and hiding there.

Kat, you can keep calm. Breathe in. Breathe out. The darkness was actually quite soothing.

The door opened with a sharp crack, light pouring in. I started back, my breaths catching in my throat. The anxiety I’d been trying so hard to suppress flooded my system, and my heart pumped harder. My limbs wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

His silhouette filled the doorway, and when he stepped forward I saw that he had brought food - bread, cheese, and a package of dry salami.

“Good afternoon, Kat,” he said.

“Is it afternoon?” I couldn’t tell the difference between dawn and dusk, trapped as I was below the house with not even a single window to look out of. Why had I tried to escape? I could have had a window, at least, down here. Now I had nothing.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “Getting closer to your birthday, actually. I thought we might have a trade.”

“I don’t have anything to trade,” I said mechanically.

“You have a lot to trade,” he said. “Your obedience, for one. Do what I want you to do.”

“Why?”

“It will make me happy.”

I glared daggers at him. If he wasn’t joking, he was an idiot.

“Do you really think I care at all about making you happy?” I asked.

He tilted his head.

“You’re a strange creature, kitten,” he said. “Let’s try this again.”

He strode forward and dropped the food on the blanket in front of me. The smell of the salami wafted through the dim room. It made my mouth water. I reached out for it and he slapped my hand away.

“Not yet, kitten,” he said. “Not until I say you can eat. You must be obedient, you understand?”

I trembled, my nerves shot through from not being able to take my medication. Another game, that’s all this was for him.

Well, I wasn’t going to play his game. Not anymore.

“Can I eat?” I asked flatly. He wasn’t going to hurt me without some trouble.

“No,” he said.

I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms. Breathe in, breathe out. You can stand up to him, Kat.

“Awful waste of steps to come all the way down here with food tonotfeed me. Were you just getting your exercise for the day?”

“Saucy girl.”

“How about you go back up to the kitchen and bring down some chocolate cake so I cannoteat that, too? Your quads will thank you.”

He frowned and began to gather the food back up in his arms. My stomach growled, the ache shooting up through my body. I reached out and touched his arm, and he froze.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “It’s my meds. I don’t have my meds. I get nervous.”

Under my fingertips, his muscles were hard.

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