turned sharply toward me, his face shocked. It seemed to unbalance him that I would bring up casual conversation at a time like this.
It made me bolder. In my time as his prisoner, not once had I ruffled him even the tiniest bit. He’d expected everything I’d done, found it amusing and predictable, and now I had done something he found surprising. A part of me was afraid I was digging my hole deeper, but another, much larger part believed I might buy myself reprieve from my punishment if he found me sufficiently interesting. So I kept talking.
“You aren’t shocked by anything I do, except maybe this. So I wondered if you’d studied it. I studied it in college. I was originally going to be a psychologist specializing in research, like this, only . . . more ethical.”
His lips quirked up in the least disturbing smile I’d witnessed on him so far. Still, he didn’t speak to me. But he didn’t leave me alone either. He sat on the ground a few feet away, watching and waiting for me to continue.
I wrinkled my nose at the soup and crackers he’d put before me. God, I wanted the real food again. I’d do anything for a steak and a baked potato. I crumbled the crackers in and started to eat. I wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch me, but I knew if I made any move toward him, he’d leave again.
“Instead, I ended up getting my degree and writing self-help books of all things. But then you probably know that.” A pause. “Why did you take me?”
No answer.
“Do you hate women?”
No answer.
I took another bite.
“If you talk to me, I’ll still do whatever you want. I’ll still let you touch me.”
His eyes darkened; I’d crossed the line. He stood and went for the door.
“Wait. Please. I’m sorry. I won’t ask for anything. I know you have your reasons, okay?”
He turned and nodded at me once, then sat beside the door. The distance he’d put between us wasn’t lost on me. I took a deep breath and then a few more bites, chasing it down with water. He wasn’t leaving, and so I felt brave enough to ask what had been on my mind for awhile now. Getting my period had reminded me of more than just basic survival, but biological realities.
“Are you going to kill me if I get pregnant?”
No answer.
My voice shook a little as I spoke. I wasn’t crying, but there were tears in my voice, that catch you get when you start to get emotional but are holding back the floodgates.
“ . . . Because I know you can’t just take me to the hospital. And I don’t know if you have anyone you can bring in . . . or if you would even want me then. Please, I don’t want to die. I was on the pill before. The prescription is in my purse. You can put me back on it . . . ”
He shook his head.
I took another bite, and more water to try to calm down so I could talk without going into blubbering sobbing fits. “No? You want me to get pregnant?”
He shook his head again.
“Are you sterile?” God, I hoped so. These were genes you didn’t want to spread. I didn’t want to give birth to another sociopath.
His eyes were cold as he stared at me. As far as he was concerned, the question and answer portion of the day was over. But I could see in his eyes I’d figured out the truth, and I felt relief wash over me. One less thing to worry about.
I finished my food without speaking again as he watched me. I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t sure what more he could take from me, but I knew he’d think of something if I pushed too hard. As it was, I wasn’t sure if I’d be in the cell longer now because of speaking.
When I finished eating, he took the tray and brushed my hair out of my face with his fingers. I leaned into him. I was ready to do anything he wanted, just to let me out.
The cell was bad because there was nothing to do, but it was worse because it meant I had been bad. I’d displeased him, and that was starting to matter to me. I’d fought the desire to please him, but I couldn’t help
It made me bolder. In my time as his prisoner, not once had I ruffled him even the tiniest bit. He’d expected everything I’d done, found it amusing and predictable, and now I had done something he found surprising. A part of me was afraid I was digging my hole deeper, but another, much larger part believed I might buy myself reprieve from my punishment if he found me sufficiently interesting. So I kept talking.
“You aren’t shocked by anything I do, except maybe this. So I wondered if you’d studied it. I studied it in college. I was originally going to be a psychologist specializing in research, like this, only . . . more ethical.”
His lips quirked up in the least disturbing smile I’d witnessed on him so far. Still, he didn’t speak to me. But he didn’t leave me alone either. He sat on the ground a few feet away, watching and waiting for me to continue.
I wrinkled my nose at the soup and crackers he’d put before me. God, I wanted the real food again. I’d do anything for a steak and a baked potato. I crumbled the crackers in and started to eat. I wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch me, but I knew if I made any move toward him, he’d leave again.
“Instead, I ended up getting my degree and writing self-help books of all things. But then you probably know that.” A pause. “Why did you take me?”
No answer.
“Do you hate women?”
No answer.
I took another bite.
“If you talk to me, I’ll still do whatever you want. I’ll still let you touch me.”
His eyes darkened; I’d crossed the line. He stood and went for the door.
“Wait. Please. I’m sorry. I won’t ask for anything. I know you have your reasons, okay?”
He turned and nodded at me once, then sat beside the door. The distance he’d put between us wasn’t lost on me. I took a deep breath and then a few more bites, chasing it down with water. He wasn’t leaving, and so I felt brave enough to ask what had been on my mind for awhile now. Getting my period had reminded me of more than just basic survival, but biological realities.
“Are you going to kill me if I get pregnant?”
No answer.
My voice shook a little as I spoke. I wasn’t crying, but there were tears in my voice, that catch you get when you start to get emotional but are holding back the floodgates.
“ . . . Because I know you can’t just take me to the hospital. And I don’t know if you have anyone you can bring in . . . or if you would even want me then. Please, I don’t want to die. I was on the pill before. The prescription is in my purse. You can put me back on it . . . ”
He shook his head.
I took another bite, and more water to try to calm down so I could talk without going into blubbering sobbing fits. “No? You want me to get pregnant?”
He shook his head again.
“Are you sterile?” God, I hoped so. These were genes you didn’t want to spread. I didn’t want to give birth to another sociopath.
His eyes were cold as he stared at me. As far as he was concerned, the question and answer portion of the day was over. But I could see in his eyes I’d figured out the truth, and I felt relief wash over me. One less thing to worry about.
I finished my food without speaking again as he watched me. I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t sure what more he could take from me, but I knew he’d think of something if I pushed too hard. As it was, I wasn’t sure if I’d be in the cell longer now because of speaking.
When I finished eating, he took the tray and brushed my hair out of my face with his fingers. I leaned into him. I was ready to do anything he wanted, just to let me out.
The cell was bad because there was nothing to do, but it was worse because it meant I had been bad. I’d displeased him, and that was starting to matter to me. I’d fought the desire to please him, but I couldn’t help
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