CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 1
How long had it been since the last time she ate? A day? Maybe more?
She rolled onto her side, forgetting for one single moment that she was bound.
Trapped.
Of course, even if the door was unlocked, she couldn’t escape. The deadbolt was nothing but a symbol of her captivity.
A metaphor.
Her English teacher would be impressed by the comparison.
If she ever saw him again, that is. Mr. Daly once said she was his best student. Of course, with only fifteen members of his honors class to choose from, the competition wasn’t all that fierce, but she’d let the praise float into her head just the same.
All that was gone now. Mr. Daly. The good grades. The star pupil she’d once been.
She squeezed her eyes shut and for a moment was able to imagine. Imagine that none of this had ever happened. That she was home. That her mother was downstairs, sizzling bacon in a frying pan on the stovetop.
A sigh. Trying harder to recapture the memory. The smell of the bacon grease, savory enough to appease the hunger that gnawed very real in her gut.
The hunger that threatened to shatter her illusion of peace. Of home.
Squeezing her eyes even harder. Forcing her mind to remember. Forbidding the memories from vanishing. Not yet.
Not yet ...
Where was the smell of bacon? She didn’t want to let it go.
Xavier had come last night. But he didn’t stay long. He rarely did anymore.
She told him she was out of granola bars. Hadn’t she mentioned that? And he promised to get her more. Or had she misheard him?
He was mad at her. It wasn’t his fault. Work was hard right now. Lean times. She saw the anxiety that draped over his shoulders like a hundred-pound mantle.
There. A simile. Mr. Daly had been a good teacher.
She curled her knees up toward her chest, turning her back toward the sunlight that was valiantly attempting to pry into her room through the thick curtains. The shackles chaffed her wrists, and her back kinked when she tried to inch away from the invasive sunlight.
Xavier had removed the clock from the nightstand, but she knew from the angle of the sun he should be here soon. She’d read in a history book once that dogs would rather be tortured than ignored. She couldn’t recall which class she’d read that in or why such a random fact popped into her head now of all times, but she’d learned that random thoughts pop up at unexpected moments when you’re chained to a bed.
She inched her heel away when she felt the prickles of sunlight land on her bare foot and counted the minutes.
Xavier would be back soon.
She hoped he remembered those granola bars.
