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He's never even brought me a croissant, so I don't know why that's the food on my mind. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why I'm so focused on how hungry I am. It's not that big of a deal. I can hold out longer than a day even with Dante feeding me regularly.
As the moon hangs on the treetops, I'm no longer thinking about food. I should be in the office. If Jenkins sends Grant for me, I don't know if I can refuse. Grant would break down the door before he went against Jenkins. Hell, Grant would do it in spite of Jenkins, assuming he could get away with it. Grant would grab me just to spite Dante.
The sequins from my dress last night dig into my thighs as I sit under the window. If I crane my neck just right, I can see the stars marching their way across the summer sky. I should change into something else, but these clothes were right there. I keep putting them on after each shower, hoping Dante will come in. I'm not used to picking out my own clothes, even now. It's a silly thing and I should get up and change, but I can't bring myself to do it. The minute I do, I'll have to acknowledge that another night started and Dante is gone.
I jolt as a fist hammers on the bedroom door. Scrambling to my feet, I almost fall over when the pounding increases. Dante's command rings through my mind, and I stumble into the corner. I tuck my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them as nausea bubbles up my throat. I swallow it down, not wanting to end up dry heaving.
The handle jiggles violently. "Open the fucking door, bitch."
The door rattles like Grant kicked it. The thick wood should keep him out, but he might be able to get a key. I should have asked Dante about the locks. I should have asked him what to do in this situation. I should have never gotten involved in the first place.
I shake my head, digging my nails into my arms. I don't regret Dante claiming me. He woke me up after years of living in the darkness. If I die never tasting freedom I wouldn't go back and change the things I've done to help him. I swallow hard, burying my face and praying Grant will leave. If I don't respond, maybe he'll go away. I snort through the tears welling in my eyes at the thought. That's not how Grant operates.
"Get your ass out here, bit. Jenkins wants you in the office now or there'll be consequences." His muffled threat seeps under the door, tainting the air.
My limbs tremble as I push myself to my feet, causing me to sway. Closing my eyes, I use the wall to steady myself. When the dizziness passes, I pad to the bed and drop onto the edge. It takes the last of my will to strap my stilettos on. Grant pounds on the door again, cursing me and yelling more threats.
I take one last deep breath before I unlock the door, then pull it open. I'm met with Grant's face, his lips pulled up in a lewd grin.
"Got you."
***
The oppressive darkness crushes me. I wish I was back in the bedroom with Dante. I'd even take away the pillow wall I made and let him hold me all day long if only I could get out of this dead space. The walls close in on me, though I can't see them. I can tell, though. They press against me, forcing the air from my lungs. Even my closet had more room than this place.
At first, I tried to gauge how long I'd been stuck in here, but after a while, I gave up. My mind keeps wandering back to all the things Dante and I never got to. It doesn’t help reel in my spiraling sanity.
It's been darkness and bruises ever since Grant tricked me. He never did have a soft hand, but I thought the threats from Dante would keep him at bay. I shouldn't have gotten comfortable. I shouldn't have thought Dante could keep me safe. I shouldn't have trusted him. This has been my world long enough to know better.
Seeing Dante, though, talking to him, getting to know him...I should have kept my heart locked up. The longer he stayed, the further I fell. Maybe I would have latched onto anyone I thought could save me. Because even though I thought I was keeping my distance, I couldn't stop myself. There was a disconnect between my brain and my heart, and now I'm paying the price.
"Ready to eat, whore?" Grant calls, and I tense, tucking myself further into the corner.
The thin door opens, barely letting a sliver of light inside, and I shield my eyes as it pierces into my skull. Slop plops on the ground as he upends the plate. It looks like he stuck spaghetti in a blender and mashed it up. And now it's splattering on my bare feet. I'm still wearing what Dante picked for me the last time we were together, so of course I'm fucking freezing. The cold mush isn't helping either.
"Well? Go ahead. Dig in," he taunts, crouching in the doorway.
I already know what will happen if I resist. The bruises on my arms and probably my face as well are testament to how far he's willing to go. My hands tremble as I gather up the food, breathing through my mouth. The rancid smell still infiltrates my nose and I gag. I force it down, not even bothering to chew. It's going to come back up in a few minutes, anyway. At least Grant gave me a bucket to puke in. I've been peeing in it too, but that activity is getting less frequent.
"Did you think you were special? How does it feel to know he abandoned you the minute he could? Too bad he threw you away like the trash you are."
I choke, coughing as the mush slides down my throat. Grant probably assumes I'm having a reaction to his revelations. Too bad for him I don't believe a word that comes out of his mouth. He'll say anything to break me mentally. Plus, the fact he hasn't tried anything other than slapping me around a little tells me he's scared. There's only two people I've ever seen Grant cower for—Jenkins and Dante.
"Jenkins okay with you holding me hostage? Or did you fail to tell him? Again."
I flinch when he pushes to his feet. He doesn't kick me, though, like he has in the past. This time he grins, and a chill slides down my spine.
"What Jenkins doesn't know can't hurt him. Can't say the same for your owner."
He turns, slamming the door shut behind him. The lock engaging thunders through the space, and I shiver. Rolling my eyes at his tantrum, I sigh. Grant doesn't terrify me as he once did. Could he kill me? Probably. But he won't. And he gave himself away when he called Dante my owner. Not that I needed the confirmation. Grant's fatal flaw is he can't keep his fucking mouth shut.
It's been a while since he's pulled a move like this. He's right, I did think I was special. Even before Dante appeared, I was getting complacent. I'd become comfortable, strange as that seems. Jenkins has kept me in the same position for so long, never allowing anyone to claim me, I figured it would never happen. I could put up with the rest if they didn't break me completely. The insults may be new, but they’re no more creative than before.
The handle jiggles and my head shoots up. Grant never comes back so soon. Nausea is already bubbling in my gut, and I swear if I puke as soon as the door opens again, I'm probably never going to stop. Which will only add to the embarrassment. Grant will probably make me eat it and then it'll never end. I gag just imagining it.
Something heavy rams against the door. It comes again and I jolt as the wood splinters. I hide my face in my arms, my knees tucked close to my chest. My heart is about to explode or pound out of my ears. Can a heart attack make your ears bleed? I bite my lip, copper flooding my mouth.
The wood cracks, the knob crashing to the floor, coming to rest at my feet. Digging my nails into my thighs, I refuse to look up. Whoever it is will probably be worse than Grant. A guard wouldn't come without a key. A member wouldn't know about the door. A councilman though...I shudder.
