Page 19 of Fallen to Thievery
Another sob racked through my body. He had won and he knew it. He had broken me.
“I’m sorry,” I cried, “for wasting food.”
“And?”
“And for spilling it over you.”
“And?”
“For being rude to you.” I had no idea if that is what he wanted to hear, but he nodded his head.
“Will you ever waste food again?”
I shook my head. If the point he wanted to make was that food was a precious commodity, then he sure made it.
“Good girl. How about we start over, hmm?” He stood and left the room before I could answer, making me panic. But he came back. With pancakes. I started crying again.
He cut the pancakes in pieces and speared some with a fork, bringing it to my mouth. I was a weakling, a pathetic human being, as I took a bite.Tears were streaming down my face. I had just sold my soul to this man for a pancake. He was smiling down at me, pleased as I took another bite. I had never wanted to harm a living thing before, but this man—I wanted to kill him. Every fibre in my being wanted to see him dead. I had always thought myself incapable of killing someone, but in this moment, I knew the truth. I would kill this man slowly and laugh while doing it.
After Graysonfedme, he untied me to use the bathroom. It seemed like it would become a ritual to lose my composure in the bathroom, so I wouldn’t lose my mind on that bed. This time he hadn’t come looking for me after five minutes were up. I did all I had to do in the bathroom before walking out.
He was sitting on the windowsill again, just staring out. He looked at home there. Like he had sat there a million times before.
I busied myself with tidying the room. Getting back on that bed felt impossible. Not without going crazy. And there was nothing else I could do. I was very conscious of him sitting there. But he didn’t seem to trouble himself with me. He just kept staring out that window. When there was nothing left to do, I went to sit on the opposite side of the bed and sat on the floor with my back against the bedside table.
“What’s your name?” He still didn’t look at me.
I wasn’t going to tell him. He had no right to say my name. “Persephone,” I answered instead.
Grayson chuckled, then stood. “Fine, don’t tell me.” He strolled to the door. “And don’t try to escape tonight. There’s a storm coming.”
I rolled my eyes. I had known that since yesterday.
The storm hit hard. The wind howled eerily around the cabin, making the large bedroom window rattle. I hoped the crow was okay. The shutter door at the front slammed and slammed, until someone presumably got fed up with the noise and stopped it. I have always enjoyed the sound of rain falling on the roof. It was calming, cozy. But tonight, it echoed my misery. I missed my mom and dad. I missed Rachel and I missed the quiet of my little shop on Main Street after closing time. I missed my life. The ache was dull and constant in my chest. I wanted so badly to go home.
I wanted to pretend that none of this was happening, that I never went to the bank, and that these people had never laid eyes on me. I wanted to wipe them from my existence and never think of them again.
I was wondering why he left me untied when the power went out. I laid in bed, listening to the sounds around me. It was pitch black and I found solace in it. The darkness hid me. And it also hid this wretched room from me. I could pretend I was elsewhere.
It took me a little longer to notice the creaking floorboards. I had turned on my side and pretended to be asleep as Grayson walked into the room, holding two lanterns. He placed one of them onto the dresser before walking over to me. I shut my eyes tight, listening carefully. He brushed a strand of my hair from my face, and it took every ounce of self-control not to recoil from his touch. I laid perfectly still as his fingers traced over mycheek, down my neck, over the curve of my shoulder and down my arm. He was careful not to touch the cut on my upper arm.
“You’re very bad at pretending to sleep.” His fingers were gliding back up my arm over the trail of goosebumps he’d left.
I kept my eyes shut. Was he bullshitting? Did he really know I was awake? Why was he touching me like this?
“What happened to‘don’t touch me’?” He pressed his finger over the cut on my arm, making me wince. He laughed under his breath.
I kept my eyelids shut, too embarrassed to look at him. “I’m keeping my eyes closed because if I can’t see you, there’s a chance you might be dead. Like Schrödinger’s cat.”
He laughed again. “That’s not exactly how it works.”
I knew that. “Pleasant thought though.”
“And here I thought you were warming up to me.”
“And why would I do that?” I opened my eyes to glare at him.
“Because I’m trying to be nice. I’m alsoreallyhandsome.” I could see his smirk in the dim lantern light.
