As the smell of sizzling meat permeates the air my stomach twists and grumbles. The man places the lid on the pan and goes to the fridge to get a tub of vegetables and some juice. After placing them on the table, he goes back to the mirror to redress his stitches.
I lower my knees and my stomach does its impression of a whale mating call.
"Was that your stomach?", the man laughs. I cross my arms, trying to ignore both him and my appetite. He laughs again, carefully pulling a t-shirt over his head. I look up and he's right in front of me. "Come on. At least talk to me." I don't answer, just yank my foot forward, trying to get free of the chain again. "Silent treatment. Mature," he says sarcastically, as he plops down next to me.
"Asshole," I mumble, sliding away from him again.
"I have a name, you know," he says with an arched eyebrow, pulling his knees up to mimic my sitting position, with his arms wrapped around them.
"Don't care. You're still an asshole." I begin to chew on my inner lip. My mouth is so raw from all the gnawing.
I don't think I've ever spoken this freely around an adult. My dad would beat the crap out of me when I even so much as came home late. My teachers had no interest in me. Mason's mom was such a nice lady that I'd hate to insult her in any way.
This man speaks so calmly. He hasn't raised his voice at me. I don't know whether I should be relieved or cowering in a corner.
We sit in silence for awhile until he gets up to check on the noodles. He slides one into his mouth with a fork. "Ha-ha," he fans his mouth and swallows quick, "Hot. They're ready." The quick wink he flashes causes me to hide my face behind my hands.
He turns off the stove and walks back to the bed, looking at me expectantly with his hands stuffed in his pockets. I feel like he's a hawk waiting for the right moment to swoop down and catch its prey.
"Do you wanna sit at the table, or stay cuffed to the wall while we eat?"
I keep my eyes glued on the floor and swallow the puddle of drool that floods my mouth.
He sighs. "Okay," he mumbles to himself when I don't answer.
He walks back to the kitchen area to fill two plates, when I notice a spider crawling on the pillow beside me. I inhale a huge breath trying not to panic. The man comes back and holds the plate out to me.
"I-I'd like to eat at the table," I say, not taking my eyes off the spider.
Following my gaze, he frowns. "I should've guessed that you're afraid of spiders." He goes back and sets the plates on the table. When he returns, he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a tissue. I flinch as he quickly catches the tiny spider and crushes it, tossing it into the trash can.
"You aren't afraid of spiders?", I ask, confused.
"Why should I be? I'm bigger than them." He reaches into his pocket and removes a set of keys. As he flips through them to find the right one he pauses and raises his eyes to mine.
"Don't get me wrong," he grabs my ankle and inserts the key, "if it was a black widow or something I would be a little scared." He turns the key and unshackles me. Placing the keys back in his pocket, he takes my arm and helps me to my feet.
I rise too quickly so my head spins and my vision is dotted with black spots. I squeeze my eyes shut and the man allows me to lean against his broad shoulder.
"You okay?", he asks after a second.
"Just a head rush," I reply, slowly opening my eyes.
He nods and walks me over to the table with so much care, I swear he thinks I'm gonna pass out. I plop down on the chair and place my elbows on the table, clawing at the roots of my hair. The man pushes my plate towards me, and sits down in the other chair. I raise my head to see him grabbing a napkin and spreading it over his lap. My eyes squeeze shut as I try to sooth my headache.
The only thoughts racing through my head involve trying to escape... trying... Maybe stab him with a fork, or kick him between the legs... but the back of my brain knows that it would be a terrible idea. For one thing, I'm in no physical condition to run away, and for another, this man would catch me. He seems pretty fit with his impressive height, callused hands and defined biceps.
The pop of a tupperware lid snaps me out of my thoughts. The man pushes the container of carrots over to me. I take a couple spoonfuls and pile them on my plate. My eyes shut again as my head stops spinning. I hear him pour me some juice and slide the cup over.
"I hope you like grape juice." His voice... I can't tell whether I like or dread the sound of it...
The silence continues as I keep my eyes shut tight. My mouth is dry and every muscle in my body doesn't want to move.
The man clears his throat suddenly and I slowly open my eyes. "Are you waiting for me to say grace or...?" I don't answer. "I mean, I'm not religious or anything like that, but...uh..." He laughs nervously. "Come on. Humor me. Eat something."
My stomach growls in agreement. I pick up my fork with a shaking hand and take a bite of the steaming noodles. The man smiles and begins eating as well. I finish about half of my pasta before I take a drink of juice.
Every time I swallow I try not to look at him, but I know that he's looking at me. I've never been good with awkward eye contact, so I try to break the silence.
"So what is it?", I ask.
He almost chokes on his juice. I wish he would have. "Pardon?", he says.
"Your name," I swallow, and he raises his eyebrows with... Is that excitement? "I don't know what to call you, and the only nicknames I can come up with involve cursing," I answer, sliding a carrot into my mouth.
He chuckles at that last part. "Do you want the full name or just the first?", he jokes, his lips curling into a smile.
"I just need something to call you," I say, bringing my eyes back down to my plate.
His eyes stay glued to me as he takes another bite of pasta. "Michael," he says as he finally swallows. "Michael Patrick." I nod and go back to my food. "Any other questions?"
"What did you do to my dad?" The image of him chained to the wall and bleeding flashes through my mind. He has to be dead.
"Don't you worry about it," he says, smiling to himself as he leans back in his chair. "He won't hurt anyone ever again." After a few more slow bites he flicks his tongue across his lips. "Any more?"
I shake my head no.
"Alright," he takes the last couple bites of pasta. "How about you answer some of my questions, hmm?" He takes another drink of juice.
"I thought you knew everything about me," I say, shooting him a death-glare.
"Not everything," he says, pointing a finger at me. "In fact, until tonight I didn't know you were an outie." My eyes widen as I wrap my arms around my waist. "I know facts, September, not the important stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Like, uhh," he scratches his eyebrow, "What's your favorite color?"
I don't answer.
"Okay," he says after awhile, "new question." He taps his chin in thought. "What did you see in that Asian boy at school?" I raise my eyes to his. "The one with the denim jacket."
"Mason Lee?" Michael nods. I roll my eyes. He's acting like my dad when Mason and I started hanging out. "Nothing happened."
Oh my God. He was coming to get me. He'll be looking for me.
"Nothing happened?" He raises an eyebrow. "You two spent an awful lotta time together. Did he kiss you? Or did you just lose your virginity to him?"
"It's none of your fucking business," I snap.
"Really," he scoffs. "I guess your birthday isn't my business either? Or your blood type? Your report cards?"
"I'm sixteen years old! Nothing is really supposed to happen in high school!" I blurt out. He smirks at me. "He's gay," I say, trying to change the subject.
"Oh, so you're still a virgin," he claims with a smirk. I slowly nod, crossing my legs tightly. "This is interesting."
"And here I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman," I complain, draining my juice.
"Only while that someone is unconscious," he objects. "I prefer my victims awake," he says with a wink. "It's no fun if they can't feel a thing."
I don't say anything.
"So," Michael breaks the silence, "how 'bout that favorite color?", he says, biting into a carrot.
I heave a sigh. "Blue."
"Was that so hard," he jokes as I scowl at him. "Can you use chopsticks?" I nod. "What's your opinion on smoking?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Do you mind if I smoke in front of you?"
"Look, if you're gonna rape me, or-or kill me, then just do it!" The words came out louder and faster than I thought they would. "I'm not going to let you destroy my mind with your-" I hug my arms tighter around me, "twisted psychology games."
"Why do you just assume that I'm gon' rape you," he asks, obviously tired. "Do you really think that low of me?"
"Yes, actually."
Michael sighs. "You done?" I open my mouth to yell at him but he cuts me off, "With your food, I mean."
I nod. He gathers the dishes from the table and rises to put them in the sink. He starts running the hot water and squirting the soap.
Every muscle in my body tenses. His back is turned. I can run. The blood rushes through my veins and my heart starts thudding against my rib cage. I slowly slide one foot to my side to get a good start and look back at Michael.
"You know," he starts scrubbing one of the dishes, "most people I bring home aren't as well-behaved as you." He turns and flashes me a smile before returning to the plate. "They try to run," I swing my other foot over towards the door, "or fight back, even try to-"
I bolt for the door in a rush of adrenaline.
"Hey!" His voice erupts in a roar as I fling open the door and sprint towards the stairs.
Everything passes in a blur. Once I'm upstairs I turn and lock the basement door behind me. The house is hard to navigate while my head is spinning, but I make my way through the living room, to the front door. With shaking hands I slide the locks out of place. The door creeks open and the tiny crack of sunlight nearly blinds me.
The door swings open and I scream as Michael calmly walks through. "I'm curious," he says closing the door and bolting it behind him. "What was the next step in your little escape plan?" His blue eyes, shadowed with grey bags beneath, narrow hard at me and I slide away from him until my back flattens against the wall. "Hmm?" He takes a step towards me and I slide down and wrap my arms around my legs. Every inch of my body is frozen in fear.
"Please," I say as my eyes burn with tears. "Don't hurt me," I whisper.
"I see," he begins, "this is plan B. Your escape plan didn't work, so you're ready to beg." The first tears fall as I nod. "Now I'll tell you what you're gon' do," I look up at him, "first, you're gon' wipe your tears, and take a deep breath."
My lip trembles and I sniffle. Michael raises his eyebrows at me expectantly. I sniff again and wipe my tears away. The corners of his mouth twitch up slightly.
"Now stand up." My legs quiver as I pull myself to my feet. "And walk back to the basement, like a good girl."
It takes a second, but I finally obey. I can feel the adrenaline drain a little from my body with each shaky step I take back to the depths of my worst nightmare.