Chapter 5: Kat

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Kat

I'd never been so damn hungry in my entire life.

I thought I'd experienced varying degrees of starvation through the last few years when money was tight and I would forgo dinner or breakfast occasionally so that Charlotte could have a full meal. I'd felt the pang of hunger before cramping my stomach from time to time and I would just sleep it off until I knew my next meal was coming. I thought I'd experienced the worst of it on those occasions.

I would give my left ear to be only as hungry as I was on those days.

This hunger was excruciating.

By now, I'd gathered that it was close to 36 hours or more since I'd last eaten. Probably more. I didn't have a very good range of what day it was or how long I'd been there but I hadn't seen anyone since that asshole guy came by and that had to have been at least twelve hours ago.

There wasn't a clock in my room or a window to even gauge the day or night passing.

My stubborn streak was something I was equally as proud of as I was annoyed by. If it weren't for that relentless, unwavering quality of mine, I'd have buzzed the asshole from before to come back and bring me the food he had offered. But that would mean submitting and admitting I was wrong and needed help from a man who so bluntly stated I would be killed within the month.

I'd be more willing to jump off a three story building than have that conversation.

Though, as another violent hunger cramp rolled through my stomach, nauseating and weakening my body even more as I lay there, I began to question everything.

Maybe I should just do it. I'll need my strength for whenever I find my way out of here. Gah, just fucking do it already.

I continued to lay there for another bout of time.

I don't wanna do it. Fuck I really don't want to do it. Don't make me do it.

More time passed unmoving on the bed.

Think about the food, bitch. There could be waffles or pancakes or ice cream or ice cream on top of waffles on top of pancakes. Get the fuck up and go get those ice cream soaked cakes!

"Fuck everything," I groaned out as I rolled myself over on the bed, my feet finding the carpeted ground and feeling like fragile twigs trying to hold up an unsteady, waning tree.

My body and brain were in the waltz of war, both trying to one up the other. My body would revolt with nausea and lightheadedness with each movement that my brain forced my body to take, my body hell-bent on staying in bed and my brain knowing that we needed food or else we'd faint with no assurance that anyone would ever come check on us.

With every step I took towards the door, my head would pound mercilessly like a hammer was being taken to my skull with each and every impact my foot had with the floor. My eyes had slammed shut, somehow thinking that I could shut out the pain if I shut out everything else as well.

It was useless, of course. By the time my fingertips finally brushed the surface of the door, I felt like I'd either pass out on the spot or toss up every little bit of stomach bile that had been burning the lining of my stomach for the past day and a half. Or both. Both was a very likely option.

My fingers slammed down on the buzzer that I had been shown next to the door knob and the last crumb of pride that had been holding me up to that point disintegrated beneath my fingers as I called for help from the very people that had put me here in the first place.

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