Page 18 of Silver

“Do you like granola?” I ask, holding up the box.

“Yes, Sir.” She’s sitting tall, spine rigid, fingers oddly gripping the edge of the table.

I stare at her for a moment before it dawns on me. “You’re starving, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks pinken. “Yes, Sir.”

Fuck me. I should have realized that. She’s been living in her car. I saw the food wrappers littering the floor. Empty boxes from protein bars, crackers, pretzels, and other cheap snacks.

Changing my mind about this meal, I pour some cereal into her bowl, add milk, and scoot the juice closer. I forgot cups, so I get one from the bathroom. “Eat that. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Before I leave, I decide to remind her who’s boss. I’m being far too soft on her. This is not what our arrangement will look like. I’ve been plotting this for weeks. I know I’m not right in the head. That’s irrelevant.

Eventually, I would have taken this girl against her will if she hadn’t come willingly. But she walked into my arms last night, and damn if she wasn’t born to serve me.

She watches me as I turn toward the closet. When I return with a thick chain, she gasps. I squat down at her feet and fasten a shackle around her ankle before snapping the other end to an eye hook in the corner of the room.

She doesn’t say a word, but she’s shaking when I leave her. It’s not that I think she will run. She won’t. She’s too intrigued by me and what I’m offering her to bolt. Plus, she needs me. Without me, she has no place to live. It’s apparent she hasn’t eaten much in weeks.

The point I’m making is that she doesn’t have permission to move from her seat. She will earn small freedoms with good behavior. I won’t be leaving her alone in the house without making sure she’s secured like a prisoner.

After taking the stairs two at a time, I return to the kitchen to fix her an omelet. She needs more than cereal. I may keep her bolted to the floor, but she will be healthy and well-fed because she’ll need her strength for both the physical and emotional challenges of living under my guard.

Seven

Daphne

* * *

Ignoring the fact that I’m shackled, I devour the cereal. I wish he’d left me the box. I’m not sure where he went or why. He acted strange before leaving me chained up.

I also drink a glass of juice. He’s right. I’m hungry. I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. I’ve been living off protein bars. They’re kind of expensive, but I get the store brand, and I know they pack more calories and nutrition than cheaper options.

I was working at the diner four nights a week, too. I got one hot meal when I got off my shift. I quit there to work at the strip club. Apparently, I won’t be doing that either.

Several minutes after I finish the cereal and drink the milk from the bowl, the door opens and Silver steps back inside. This time, he’s holding two foil-covered plates. Steam is coming out of the sides, and I smell bacon.

I sit taller, feeling hopeful. My stomach growls even though I just finished the cereal.

Silver frowns as he sets one plate in front of me. “Eat,” he orders, lifting off the foil.

My mouth waters. An omelet, bacon, and toast. It’s a lot of food. There’s even more piled on the second plate he uncovers as he settles in front of it.

I grab my fork, thinking I should start before he changes his mind. Is he cruel enough to take it away? Probably. He’s unpredictable, that’s for sure.

Silver grabs my wrist as I tuck my fork under another scoop of eggs. “Slow down. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Yes, Sir.” It tastes so good, though. He promised me food and housing. I don’t think he’ll go back on his word. But the rest of what he promised me is vague and concerning. What little I know so far has unnerved me.

He watches me closely while we both eat, and I do my best to monitor my pace. It gets easier as my stomach fills. When I’m full, there’s still food on my plate, and I reluctantly lift my fork. I won’t waste it. And I don’t want to risk angering Silver by leaving the meal unfinished.

He clasps my arm again, stopping me from taking the bite. “You’re full.”

I wince. “Yes, Sir,” I murmur.

“Put the fork down, Daphne,” he orders.

“But…” I stare at my plate. There’s not a lot left, but still…