Prisoner

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"You have got to be the most stubborn person I've ever met in my whole fucking life, and I'm over a few thousand years old."

I glared at Hades, who stood by the bed with his arms folded over his chest, a tray of food sitting on the nightstand. I folded my arms over my chest, mostly out of mockery.

"I'm not eating," I stated in refusal, but I couldn't help glancing at the tray anyway. Because the food looked so damn good. Fresh baked bread, some kind of sandwich with meats and cheeses, a bowl of some kind of chunky soup. It smelled fucking incredible. I'd never had food smell so damn good before. It took everything I had not to just throw my hands up and go for it anyway.

The thought of getting sick, though, turned me off. I wasn't going to eat. I couldn't risk it, not now, not when I was so close to getting out of here. Once they finished their tests, they wouldn't need me anymore and I could fucking... I don't know. Find out who fucked me over and kill them.

Yeah and then what?

I don't know. Die probably. There was nothing left for me after that. The Mother wasn't going to take me back and I wasn't the type to beg. I sure as fuck wasn't staying here. These people were fucking nuts. I had no money, no job, nothing. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. So dying seemed like the only reasonable option. Perhaps I would die killing whoever tortured me. That would be nice.

"You need to eat something," Hades said again, making me glance up at him, "At least take a bite of something. Anything."

"Why don't you take a bite of something?" I returned. Hades rolled his eyes, but surprised me when he took off a piece of bread, ate it, then looked at me, almost expectantly. Damn, he really wanted me to eat something. It was so fucking weird.

"Why do you give a shit whether I eat or not?" I asked dryly. It would just be easier if he healed me and kicked me out already. What was he hanging on for? Was this about being his kid? Because that shit was stupid. He didn't even know me. For all he knew, I could be a psycho murderer who likes to eat babies for breakfast.

"Because you need to get your strength up if you want to go out there and live," Hades said sternly, "You were tortured for gods' know how long. You were starved. You're malnourished. Your muscles have atrophied. The best way to start recovering is to eat something. Even if it's just a single goddamn bite of food."

"How about no?"

"Holy fuck," Hades turned around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him so hard that it rattled. I smirked, watching him leave, then slumped back against the bed and sighed heavily.

I didn't need to eat. I was fine without it. I was fine before with my single meal a day even. If I could go for months without eating, I could go for a few more months. I got that it would probably help me heal faster, but I wasn't going to risk it. I didn't trust these people. Their talk was just that; talk. They could talk, talk, talk, all day long about how they're such good people and love everyone, but that was bullshit. Who loved a complete stranger?

I shook my head at that, then looked up when I heard the door open. I sat up, expecting Hades to come back with some new plan to get me to eat, except it wasn't Hades this time. It was a different male, but he looked a lot like Hades. He was tall, like Hades, with dark hair, but where Hades's was long, this guy's hair was cut short. He had a couple days worth of beard on his jaw. His eyes were a piercing shade of green, like a cat's.

He came in wheeling some kind of cart with what looked like a burner on the top shelf. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I demanded. The male looked up and surprised me when he smiled pleasantly.