off and I realize that he really isn’t going to let me sleep on the bed with him. So I lie down on the ground and yank his arm down with me so I don’t have to sleep with my arm held up high in the air. He abruptly yanks it back, and then suddenly we’re in this childish war that I very quickly lose when I realize that he could crush me with his strength.
This is fine. This is perfectly fine. At least there’s a rug here and not a cold cement floor even if my arm feels like death is coming for it.
“What made you decide to be a bad guy?” I ask.
“Childhood dream.”
“That’s nice. But have you ever thought about being a hero? Like just letting me go free?”
“Go to sleep.”
Does he really think I can just fall asleep with everything happening? “I can’t sleep.”
“You haven’t tried.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“You haven’t even been on the ground for a full minute yet and your mouth was just moving for all of it. Sleep.”
“If you answer my question, I will,” I say.
“I was born and raised in this world. Not everyone is handed things to them on a silver platter like you,” he says, more bite to his words than normal. “I would’ve given anything to sleep on the floor of a warm room and you’re bitching about it.”
“Silver platter, huh?” I ask.
“You told me you’d shut up if I answered your question.”
“Fine.”
I lie on the floor, hugging his hoodie to my chest as I try to think about what I’m supposed to do. Father’s not coming for me. He won’t risk his reputation for me; instead, he’ll likely try to roll my disappearance into something to benefit him.
And silver platter?
What a fucking joke.
Just because I had a father who could provide for me doesn’t mean my life has been grand. It’s funny that he even thinks he has an idea of how my life is.
The floor smells musty, but it’s not surprising since it’s clear this place isn’t meant to be a bedroom. From the layout, it looks like some kind of abandoned factory where they’re using the offices as bedrooms. It’d probably explain why the door to the bathroom looks like someone decided to just hack a hole into the wall and stick a door there.
Impatiently, I wait until he’s asleep before I start working at the handcuff. I push it against my hand, squeezing and shoving as the metal digs in, just aching to get free. I need to get free.
When I feel a wetness around my wrist, I realize that I’m accomplishing nothing beyond skinning myself, so I reach over to the hoodie and grab onto the string. I untie the knot with one hand before pulling the string free. Then I slowly stand up.
I just have to wrap it around his throat. Just one tight tug around his throat and as he sits up, I’ll drop my weight and choke him. Simple as that.
It’s not as fucking simple as that. It’s killing a man. It’s taking the life of a person, and I’m not sure I can do that. Can I really kill this man as he lies there? I mean… yeah, he’s a bad guy, but he hasn’t necessarily hurt me or done anything violent in front of me for me to condemn him to death. I suppose I could just choke him until he passes out. But what if I don’t release soon enough and he ends up dying?
The light flickers on and Shepherd looks up at me where I’m standing, hoodie string in my hands.
He watches me for a moment before he takes the string from me and wraps it around his throat before holding the ends out to me. When I just stare at him like he’s crazy, he puts them in my hands.
“Go ahead.”
They feel ridiculously heavy in my hands for being nearly weightless. If I pulled them, I could choke him, I could kill him, I might even be able to escape. “Go ahead what?” I ask, as if I don’t know what he’s implying.
“Choke me. That’s what you were planning on doing, wasn’t it?”
My hands tighten around the strings as I stare at him.
He’s watching me closely, all signs of amusement gone from his expression. “Do it. Choke me.”
“I… I can’t. I don’t want to. I wasn’t going to. Yes, I grabbed it because I thought about it, but I couldn’t.”