Page 23 of My Little Doe
I walked to the loveseat and sat down on the side where the food had been, grabbing the plate. It was still a paper plate, with plastic utensils. Guess I still hadn’t moved up from that. Quinnlyn walked to the window, pushed the curtain to the side a little, and lookedout. He had his back to me, and I stared down at the plate in my lap. There were chicken strips, mashed potatoes, and carrots.
I couldn’t believe this was all happening. I couldn’t believe that I had twenty-seven more weeks. How was I going to survive this? I didn’t understand any of it. Why not take the baby from me after it was born? What had Quinnlyn done to deserve this punishment?
“Why do you stick around here?” I asked him, breaking our silence.
“Obligations,” he said, flatly.
“They clearly treat you like crap, and now you’re pretty much a prison—”
“I’m not a prisoner,” he said before I could finish.
“Well, not like me, but you’re trapped in this room with me,” I said.
“I’m not trapped—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, “—remember I have a key.”
“Yes, but you can’t leave,” I said.
He sighed. “What are you trying to get out?”
“Oh, nothing. Trying to figure out why you let them treat you like this.”
“They don’t treat me like—”
“Ravik hit you,” I cut him off.
He let out a low growl, and something clicked—I was getting under his skin. Maybe this was my way out of here.
Chapter 8
It had been twelve days since they brought me to this house. I stayed mostly inmyroom. In recent days, Quinnlyn had been more agitated, grumbling under his breath more often, and walking with heavier feet. While the little room didn't feel so bad—having a decent bed, pillows, a slightly better TV, and actual light—it was still small and isolating. Every time I came out to eat, I'd position myself wherever the sun came through, depending on the time of day.
Quinnlyn had stepped out a couple of times for visits. Otherwise, every morning, lunch, and supper, someone knocked on the door; Quinnlyn would unlock the door and grab both of our food. We often ate in silence. I tried to ask him questions, but he avoided them or answered them with questions, usually leading me to be the frustrated one.
The clock Quinnlyn had brought in rested on the floor, ticking steadily. A knock at the main door startled me. I looked at the clock—three thirty-two. Weird. I walked to my door, cracked it open, and peeked out. Quinnlyn stood at the other cracked door. He was talking, but too low for me to make out the words.
He looked over at me and pulled the door open. A tall female walked in. He walked out. What the hell? Then I remembered what was said the day I arrived. The moon had been growing brighter and brighter the last few days.A full moon.The femalewas taller than me, but less than Quinnlyn. She tilted her head to the side at me, then narrowed her eyes.
I wasn’t sure what to do or say, so I shut the door and went back to watchingPretty Woman. I barely wanted to talk to Quinnlyn. I sure as hell wasn’t going to talk to her. Every person I had talked to was loyal to or afraid of Ravik. None of them could help me. It was pointless to try.
Someone knocked on the door at five thirty, as they had every evening, to deliver food. Normally, I’d come out by habit, but this time, I leaned against the pillows on the bed.Pretty Womanwas over, and I was now reading one of the books that were in the room. A moment later, she knocked on my smaller door. I got up and opened it. Lasagna. She was standing there with a plate of my favorite food.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
I nodded and reached out to take the plate, but she pulled back.
“Why don’t you come sit out here?”
“Because… I don’t want to,” I said.
“I don’t bite,” she said, flashing me a smile.
“I’m literally being held here against my will, so unless you’re going to aid me in getting out of here, I’ll take my food and stay in here for the night.”
“Hmm… Well, I guess you won't eat unless you come have a chat with me,” she said, then turned around and went to the loveseat to sit down.
A second plate sat on the end table. She started eating and then looked back up at me and nodded toward the seat next to her. I stood in shock, staring at her. I had been hungrier than usual in the previous week, something I figured had to do with the second trimester.
I hung my head and walked to the loveseat. Fine. She could talk. I'd sit, eat, and go back to my bed. I sat down and grabbed the plate. My mouth watered. Lasagna never got old.
