I can see such happiness in her eyes. A stark contrast to my despair.
I can’t even bring myself to say anything to her or even bother to get off my pile of blankets I sleep on. Why bother?
She places the tray next to me on the floor and walks over to the small window across the room and looks up. “It’s snowing.”
Part of me wants to strangle the smile right off her face.
Great… snow. Snow means the tourists will soon stop arriving and any chance of being heard, being seen, or being rescued will be gone forever. Snow suffocates hope.
“Not a big storm yet,” she continues. “Papa Rich can’t close Hallelujah Junction yet, but soon.” She spins on her bare feet to look at me with the same warm smile that hasn’t left her face since entering the room. “And when he does, I really think I can convince him to give us some more freedom. You’ve been good.”
“Good?” I say, raising an eyebrow as I do. “What choice do I have in the matter?” I jiggle the chain around my ankle that has nearly rubbed the flesh of my ankle raw. “Not like I can be anything but ‘good’.”
She crawls up onto the crate she sits on daily, and her cat cuddles up next to her. It’s what she does every single day. Every single day of the five days I’ve been in this hell. It’s our routine. It’s our life. We sit and talk. She breaks the awkward chit chat by going to make meals. We then sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Fucking repeat!
She points to the untouched breakfast. “Aren’t you hungry? Are you not in the mood for eggs?” Worry marks her tiny face. “I can make something else if you want.”
I sigh deeply and run my fingers through my hair. It takes everything inside of me not to lose my absolute shit on this poor woman. I go from moments of pure rage, frustration, and fury to pity, sympathy, and even genuine concern. I feel for this girl. As I’m starting to hear more and more about her life here, I can clearly see just how much of a victim she is. She doesn’t see it for herself, however, and though I try to get her to see the reality of her situation time and time again, she refuses. Her wall is so high around her feelings toward Richard I realize I may have no chance of ever breaking down the evil foundation that’s been built by a madman and his delusions.
“I need a change of clothes,” I say. I struggle to keep my voice calm and even gentle because I’m discovering just how easy Ember spooks. “I appreciate being able to clean myself in the bathroom, and the towel you gave me, but I can’t keep wearing the same clothing.”
I have never been so filthy in my life, which was really saying something considering some of the adventure photoshoots I had been on in my time. I can’t smell myself yet, but it’s just a matter of time until that happens. Ember had given me soap, a toothbrush and even a comb. But sleeping on the floor in a dirty cellar, not to mention being dragged in here had me covered in grime that’s getting worse by the day.
Nibbling the bottom of her lip and circling her blonde hair with her finger, she says, “You’re taller and bigger than Papa Rich. Plus, most of his attire is his ranger uniform.”
“Am I expected to live here and be your husband in the same clothes forever?”
It’s an asshole move to bring up our fucked up impending matrimony with Ember. It instantly makes her jump to action and get me whatever I want. She aims to please, and I know it. Now if only I can figure out how to manipulate her enough to get me out of this place. I want her to jump up and find me a key to my shackles, but I know I have to take baby steps with her if I have any chance at all.
She hops off the crate and rushes to me. “But I have a washer and a dryer upstairs. I can wash your clothes and bring them right back down to you.”
I can see how excited she is at the thought of serving me in this way.
Not wasting a moment, I strip off my shirt without the least bit of embarrassment or shame. I don’t care if she sees me