Routine established.
Sleep, rise, fresh coffee and breakfast.
Pace.
Nap, rise, a new salad for lunch.
Pace.
Stare at the shadows on the wall, pace some more.
Fill the tub, soak.
Cry.
Dinner is served, pace, then fall asleep in my own darkness.
"What does a girl gotta do get a book around here?! Anything! I'd take a children's colour book at this stage!" I call out to the ceiling from where I lie on the pretty Turkish rug, I've traced the patterns with my fingers so many times I could draw it in my sleep.
He's denied me any company the last three days, he's barely spoken to me since I woke up alone with a white wine headache.
I haven't touched the evil thing since, bad Lucy, falling asleep with the enemy.
I blame the wine for how good it felt to be warm, to be held like I matter. Somehow my drunken brain convinced me I liked the fit of his body against mine, the smell of him. I may have dreamed or maybe hoped, but I think I felt his kiss on the side of my face, I may have turned closer in my sleep for more.
He may have left and not spoken to me since.
Very bad, Lucy.
"Would you prefer, Oh the Places You'll Go? Or You're only Old Once?" Comes the reply from the speaker on the wall, the suddenness of sound I didn't create startles me.
I smile.
"The good Doctor, how could I choose?" I giggle at the thought this bold and daring doctor who kidnaps women from nightclubs, drugging them for shits and giggles, reads Dr Seuss.
"If you promise not to hold judgement, I may also have a Jason Mamoa colour book that I don't believe is targeted at children. You're welcome to them all"
I can't help it, I laugh out loud.
"Why......?" I start still giggling. "Doesn't matter, yes, I would love them all"
"My sister....... shit..... it was a gift, last Christmas. A joke" he starts off laughing too but stops suddenly when he realises he's giving too much away.
Okay, so he has a sister. A family that he's close too.
That doesn't make him a monster.
So did Myles, and apparently it didn't stop him from becoming a monster either.
I get to my feet and open the small cabinet door in the buffet that now resembles a pantry, I pick out a container of macadamias, honey roasted. I fill up a tea cup from the pot of freshly brewed earl grey, credit where credits due, this prisoner is at least well fed.
"Shall I pour two?" I say out loud.
"No thank you, Lucy. Perhaps another time" he mumbles but uses all his manners nonetheless.
He sounds sad, resigned and it makes me nervous.
Is my time almost up?
And not in a you're going home way?
I try and rationalise that he's still keeping his identity hidden, he doesn't want to be identified when I leave here, which means he still has plans to let me go.
Go where?
My boyfriend wants me dead.
I hear footfalls above me, the turn of the locks, then six seconds later the creak of the fifth stair.
Out of habit I turn and face the far wall, if it's the only thing keeping me alive I'll let him keep is anonymity without a fight.
"You're gaining weight" he tells me on a sigh.
"And you're a tyrant who chains women to his basement, we all have our flaws" I puff with anger and something that might be shame, I look down at myself.
"It was an observation, Lucy, a compliment. You lost so much of your body weight those first few weeks, you look healthy, not fat..... Beautiful" he hesitates. "Woman, singular" he adds with a rougher tone.
"We're like Pringles, once you pop, you can't stop. Just ask my boyfriend" I grumble.
"I'm nothing like your boyfriend" he snaps in anger, making me flinch.
