Part Two
Zach was starving. It made him unable to sit still. It was the kind of starving that clawed at your stomach and up your throat, the kind where you were so hungry, you almost didn't even want to eat anymore. It was draining him, but it was all Zach could focus on.
Beads of sweat lined his head and trickled down his face, he licked his bloody lips and reminded himself to breathe through his nose, not his mouth. It was drying him out faster. The collar around his neck had made his skin red and sore, digging in enough to the point where even turning his head caused him pain.
Then he had started passing out. One moment he'd be miserably awake and the next, gasping for air as he slouched too far forward, the chain pulling on his throat and snapping him awake. Hot tears streamed across his face. He hated this.
He felt a tang of hope as the door opened and his salvation came through. This time there was no food. Just a glass of water.
She unchained him and watched with hungry eyes as he struggled to even lift himself off the ground. The second he tried to stand he crumpled back down to the floor. He desperately tried to hold his arms out in front of him to catch his fall but they slid forward, his wrist refusing the pressure of the ground and instead choosing to give up. His forehead bounced off the floor and blood quickly slid down into his eye.
He tried again. He was on his feet for a mere second, taking one clumsy step forward before the room began violently spinning and his body landed hard on the floor. He buried his face, wrapping his arms around his head. "I can't."
Even if he could, Zach didn't want to. Food and water meant broken pieces. Broken pieces meant pain. She walked over to him, dragging him back to the start. "Then crawl."
He hung his head down in shame, his tear filled eyes looking longingly at the glass of water on the other side of the room. What was only 15 feet looked as if it were 15 miles away. He got on his hands and knees, hardly able to make contact to the ground with his left wrist as he crawled his way over.
After a grueling amount of effort, the glass of water was in reach. He grabbed it, shakily bringing the rim to his chapped lips and savoring the sweet relief the liquid brought to his throat. When all of the water was gone he threw the glass against the wall and began counting the pieces. His mind floated elsewhere a couple times and he found himself recounting the same pile thrice through. There was 33.
"Twenty eight," he lied.
She walked over to Zach where he was lying on the ground, barely able to move from the spot where he was. She pulled him up to his feet and steadied him against the wall. Her fist went hard into his stomach. She watched as he slumped back down to the ground as she released her grip on him.
For twenty eight minutes Zach tried keeping his eyes shut, feeling her boot reel back and go into him time after time. Eventually it changed back to the knife, until everything faded away and he felt himself safe in her arms once again.
They sat near the glass rocking back and forth. She glided her hand up and down his arm in comfort until her eyes landed on the pieces. She counted them, paying no mind to his quiet crying.
She tucked a loose piece of hair behind his ear, leaning down to whisper to him. "Tell me Zach, were those 5 free minutes worth it?"
His breathing hitched in his throat and he pulled away from her, scared of what she'd do. "I-I'm sorry I don't know w-why I-"
She shushed him. "You have to be punished. You understand?"
He nodded. "I'm sorry."
Her eyes flickered with a cruel fueled flame as she thought over what she should do to him.
