Mi Amor

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. "Wakey, wakey mi amor." 

An almost lifeless body rolled herself over and above a blackened cheekbone and a cracked lip making any sort of smile seem distraught, two bloodshot eyes once catly green, opened. The body knew better than to ask questions, to defy her forced upon love for him, a heartless killer, her unchosen amor. 

Starved enough to expose a set of cracked ribs, the body replied with the words her captor expected and demanded. 

"Good morning mi amor." 

"Come, come. I made a special meal for us while you slept." 

Its mind was too fuzzy to question a meal when it has not eaten for what must have been two weeks, or one week. Between the blurred sight, and the rush of stabbing pain throughout her body, rememberance was not of any importance. What her mind heard was meal. And her stomach, although aching with pain, was already too famished to reject a meal. 

As her limp body forced itself out of a wooden plank, the cracking of already destroyed ribs was heard, and an irritating high pitched hum occupied a set of small ears. The pain was sickening, and in response, vomit seeped out of her dehydrated mouth. Even once in the upright position, everything ached, everything. 

And then the food's aroma reached her nose caked with dried out blood. A few more steps, and she would be there - at a table set for two. Behave and she would be okay. Behaving was no longer difficult, fighting at first made there seem to be a chance, but, as time went on, fighting was a waste of whatever energy remained. 

"Sit with me, mi amor." 

Still monotone and chilling to the body whose ears rang. But it still sat. 

"Do you recall the day we met, mi amor? My hand was wrapped around yours, holding you so tightly. That day was just one week ago, mi amor. The day my eyes fell in love with yours, the day when my heart needed to feel loved again. So defiant you were, spatting in my eye. And now look at you, as obedient as a trained dog. Without me, mi amor? You would be nothing, which is why, you and I, are sitting at a table- to celebrate our first week together." 

His questions were all rhetorical, and a response of devotion was expected. If this were the first day, she would have stated he was a psychopathic fool, completely delusional, and incompletely sane. But, it wasn't. It is the first week in which he has made her powerless and defeated entirely. 

"MI amor?" she slightly stuttered. Between pauses, he looked at her with a crazed glare in his eyes, almost how a cat eying a bird would appear to be. Maybe it was his look of disappointment or sadness. But, between the pauses, she managed to catch herself before making an unwanted comment.  

"I - it's lovely, mi amor. Thank you." 

He nodded with approval to her answer and exposed what lie underneath the cool tin dimly lit by a flickering candle. He knew exactly what it was, but her on the other hand, had no clue, or at least, he desperately hoped not. 

How beautiful it would all be. Everything was perfect. She was almost perfect. Just one bite, one bite, and she would see the sense to his madness. One bite between her shockingly red lips, and everything would be determined, revealed. In his mind, he pleaded, "Please, please mi amor, take the food." His finger began tapping with impatience, and then her fork pierced a small sliver of meat. He knew she would do anything and everything to satisfy her hunger. And he began smiling as if he was hovering over a freshly killed human being. It was all perfect, every bit of it. 

As she teared her fork through the rough meat, she watched him. The person who has held her captive against her own will. Tap, tap, tap. His calloused finger went against the wooden table. Tap, tap, tap, as he smiled a smile normal people would consider as devious and malicious. She wondered what lie behind his deep set blue eyes creating grey shadows. Did he actually love her? A worn and beaten stranger? Or was he full of lies like she was?