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I try to count the days.
But the room has no windows, and the yellow artificial light always stays on.
When he brings me sustenance, it’s sporadic.
Some crackers here. A piece of bread there.
And every time I hear the shuffle of steps and the opening of the door, I stay behind the wall in the bathroom.
I try to stay calm.
Thankfully, I always have access to water from the sink, so I cup my hands and drink greedily throughout the day.
Crying only gives me a headache, and it wastes precious energy.
So, I spend my time sleeping, because that’s all I can do.
I rest curled up in a ball between the shower and the toilet, wrapped in the scratchy, musty blanket.
At least I have some barrier between me and him.
To stay sane, I count the linoleum tiles.
I count the cracks in the plaster.
I memorize recipes.
And I do my best not to think of April, Tammy, Landon, or River.
But sometimes I do.
Landon and River show up in my dreams, so vivid I could swear they’re real.
Then I wake up disoriented in a grimy bathroom and fight the tears.
I count the number of times I’ve slept.
By the time ten sleep cycles finish, I still don’t know what my Beta captor wants from me.
It wouldn’t make sense to just keep me here, would it?
And it’s so cold.
I only have the clothes I was wearing from that night—my pink sweatpants and grey sweatshirt.
My socks are missing, and I think I know why.
He’s keeping me cold and weak on purpose. I’ve been able to wash up quickly in the shower—scrubbing the grime off me in less than a minute each time. But there’s no towel to dry myself with. I shiver in the bathroom and bundle up in the rough blanket until my teeth stop chattering.
The chain makes me his captive—but not having enough energy to do anything is another way of keeping me compliant.
But why?
“Eat and drink. And stay quiet. That’s all you need to do.”
I nod off again, staying curled up in a ball for warmth.
I finally figure out what he wants from me.
