He still punished me, though. Because I sneezed and interrupted his creative process, I was left without food for an entire day. All I got was water. The food I get is sparse anyway, and I ended up passing out with the pains of my rumbling stomach more than once. I woke up hours later, or at least what felt like that. There's no telling what time it is in this dungeon I'm kept in. I try hard to connect with Marissa, but she always refuses to meet my eye. I finally see my chance when she comes in with some food, and Parker is out somewhere, so it's just the two of us. My voice is raspy when I call out to her.
"Marissa," I say pleadingly. "Please, you have to help me. I'm going to die here if you don't."
She ignores me, and I reach for her hand, my fingers trembling as I grasp her wrist. It's one of the few days when I'm not gagged and bound, and I know this might be my only chance.
"Marissa, we need to get out of here," I say finally, hot tears already streaming down my cheeks. "We can get help... You and me, we'll do it together. We don't have to suffer like this."
She ponders my words for a moment, and for a second, I think I've gotten through to her and she might consider helping me. But then, she rips her hand away from mine and slaps me so hard I fall back on the stained mattress.
"Don't touch me," she hisses at me, but her bottom lip is trembling, and I think she's on the verge of crying, too. "Don't ever touch me. Parker is right... He's always right."
I don't have a chance to say anything else after that, and when Parker returns, I know she told him what I said. He storms down the stairs, and as soon as he reaches me, he slaps me, too. My cheek is still burning from the impact of Marissa's hand, and now it stings even more. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I've never felt more hopeless in my entire life.
Parker is strange today. He doesn't paint, just pulls up a chair next to me and stares me down. Every so often, he runs a finger down my skin, taunting me. It scares me more than when he's painting because then he's taking it out on the canvas, at least, and not me. And as the day goes on, I feel the tension building in the room. I know he's going to explode, and I'm dreading the consequences of one of us setting him off.
Finally, after what seems like hours of being watched, Marissa comes downstairs with a tray of food. When she's coming down the stairs, though, she trips on the last one and goes down, the tray of food flying in the air. It's like time has frozen. Marissa is tumbling down the stairs, and at one point, her horrified eyes meet mine as she falls. We connect at that moment, and as she lands on the floor, her eyes still on mine, I see her mouth a sentence to me.
It seems like she is saying help me. And that breaks my heart into even more shattered pieces. But it's nothing compared to what happens next, what I know will haunt me for the rest of my life. The tray rattles to the floor, the sound echoing in the room. But the food that was on it splatters everywhere. It stains Marissa's clothes, and some of it lands on the canvas, which is positioned in front of the stairs. What is more, when Marissa lands on the floor, she ends up taking the easel down with her, ripping the canvas as she grips on for something to hold.
What follows is a tension-filled few seconds. Parker is still facing me, and I'm there to see the expression change on his face. One moment, he's focused and deep in thought. Then it's as if his eyes turn black. He turns around slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.
Another painting, ruined. Food everywhere. Marissa on the floor.
All of it combined sets him off, and my heart stops in my chest when he advances toward Marissa, reaching her in a few long steps.
His hands wrap around her throat, and he raises her in the air, his hands choking