7
“Miss Rogers? I have your dinner,” a voice spoke to me from the void.
My eyes fluttered open. I was disappointed to find myself in the same stone room as before, and again on the bed. A shadow stood to my left. It was Emery. He had a tray in his hands, and on the tray was a pile of medium-rare meat. The scent of blood wafted to my nostrils and I inhale deeply the sweet smell.
“Mr. Fox thought you would be hungry,” Emery explained.
I struggled to sit up. My arms wouldn’t bend and hold my weight. Emery set the tray at the end of the long bed and grasped one of my arms.
“Don’t touch me!” I snapped.
Emery pulled me so I lay against the mess of pillows at my back, stepped back, and took the tray back in hand. The actions were one swift motion and with such little effort that I
