Pure Obsession {WIP}

08 | In Another Life

***TW***

  Once I ate I immediately felt better.  

  The last thing I remember eating was the sandwich Daniel brought me when I was strapped to a bed in the basement.  Looking back, I realize I should've been more aware of just how hungry and drained I was from lack of food, but I guess the adrenaline and fear can easily have that effect.

  Daniel had informed me that it was about lunchtime when he brought me into the kitchen.  Sleek, stainless steel appliances and dark features matched the rest of the house.  It was elegant yet simple.  Much like him, what I had seen of his house so far was sophisticated, mysterious, suave, and cold.  No matter how rich or beautiful it all was, it felt unlived - like it hadn't kept in the warmth of another person for a long time.

  Seductive yet haunting.

  Daniel sits me down at the table, strapping my uninjured wrist to the cold arm of the seat.  I make an effort to speak up, but can't quite find the words as he turns and starts pulling ingredients and appliances from the shelves.  He hadn't asked me what I wanted to eat - although, I was fairly uncertain he would make any attempt to ask what I wanted in the situation.  I watch him move across his kitchen with delicate precision and heavy concentration as he boils water, mixes ingredients, and occasionally stirs.  He takes a pan from the fridge and moves it into the oven before he goes back to stirring.  I know immediately what he is making for me.

  Fettuccini alfredo.  

  Willing to lighten the mood between us once again, I speak up.  "That smells delicious."

  No response.  It's like he can't even hear me.  Like I wasn't even there.

  "Fettuccini alfredo is my favorite."  I mention, hoping to evoke some type of reaction from him.

  "I know," he grunts without raising his gaze towards me.

  "Oh, I don't think I remember telling you that."

  "You didn't."

  He carries on with his tasks while I sit studying the man responsible for sadistic murder and for making me my favorite meal from scratch.  I immediately think back to what he divulged about Silence of the Lambs and what he learned from it as a young child.  I have a theory, but I need to have it confirmed by him.

  "How did you know it was my favorite?  If you don't mind my asking."  I include meekly.

  A sigh, and he finally looks up and over at me.  I am fearful of a potential outburst, but nothing in his demeanor or expression scares me.  On the contrary, it's calming.  

  "I can see the wheels turning in your head, princess.  Why don't you tell me how I know it's your favorite.  You're so close."

  Nodding, I think harder about how exactly he might have come to know my favorite food all on his own.  "Have you been following me?"

  He nods, twirling the pasta into the delectable sauce and scooping it onto two plates.  He brings the food to the table, setting a plate in front of me and the other to my left.  He pulls his chair out and places a napkin on my lap as well as his own.

  "How long?"  I ask, unafraid of what his potential answer might be.  There's nothing I can do about it now that he has me here.

  "Not very long.  Maybe a week and a half."  He hums as he twirled the noddles onto a fork.  Blowing on them gently until the steam disappears, holding it up to my mouth.  "Open."

  I do as he says.

  A deep, guttural sound erupted from my throat as I consume the heavenly bite.  Nothing so delicious has ever touched my tongue before.  Daniel being a psychotic single man living alone, I would've never assumed he could cook so well.  Boy, was I off.