Silent

14. Keep fighting

There were books, plenty of books in the room, written in both English and Spanish, and Michael wondered if the monster had any idea how much comfort he took from reading. He was afraid that if he did, then he'd take the books away from him, or perhaps the monster understood he needed to maintain some level of sanity in his prison.

The collection of books varied from fantasy novels to historical and detective novels, romance, and even educational, an odd mixture of books. Like someone had just collected old books randomly and placed them on the shelf. Michael couldn't help but wonder if they had locked anyone else up in this same room before him and, if so, what had happened to them after.

Michael crouched on the floor next to the table, holding an old print of Agatha Christie's book in his hands. He had loved reading them at home as well and now they gave him some comfort of familiarity.

Michael gazed at the camera at the corner of the ceiling. Wondering if they were watching him at that moment. If there were more men, or just Ricky and his friend?

One day, the monster planned to release him from that room. Michael wasn't sure when, but perhaps the crucial information was that he was to play his nephew. As sick as it was, it meant Ricky intended some form of normality, didn't it? Very sick normality, but still...

So, he needed to keep focus and show the signs that his mind had broken enough for the monster to believe he was in control. Michael swallowed and tried to bring his focus back to the book in his hands. 

If only some real-life Hercule Poirot was trying to solve his disappearance. Surely his parents cared enough to want to know where he was, despite what Ricky said?

All too soon, he heard the approaching steps from the stairway and knew that it was Ricky. He had learned to identify the sound of his footsteps by now. He got up and lowered the book down on the table, moving nervously when the echo of the steps drew nearer. It was no mystery why the man was coming into the room, and Michael thought that he'd never learn to take these visits any calmer than he had the first ones.

The door opened, and the monster stepped inside. Ricky smiled as he closed the door behind him. Michael glared at the man spitefully, his arms wrapped around his chest, pacing the room with small steps. Ricky stepped closer, and Michael noticed him carrying a wine bottle and two glasses. He glared at the man suspiciously.

"Come here," Ricky said as he lowered the bottle and the glasses on the table and pulled the chair out. "Take a seat," he spoke with a confusingly tender tone.

The monster opened the bottle, and when Michael remained still, Ricky glanced at him. "I would obey if I were you," he said, still with that disturbingly tender voice, pointing to the chair.

Michael approached with slow, insecure steps and finally took a seat.

"Good," Ricky said and poured red wine into both glasses and slid the one glass to him. Michael sat there stiffly, hands on his lap, not knowing what to expect. "Do you like wine?" Ricky asked, and Michael gave him a confused look, which made Ricky cock his brow expectantly. The man raised his glass to his lips, watching him, waiting.

"I have not tasted wine very often," Michael spluttered quietly, finding himself trembling. There had been few occasions at home. Like previous Christmas or his parents' anniversary celebration the previous summer, when he had been offered a small glass of wine with dinner, but it wasn't something he would have chosen to drink when out with his friends. The memory of home ached in his heart.

 The monster smiled. "Taste then. This is good and expensive wine and I want you to learn its taste, for I enjoy wines myself and later I expect you to drink with me when the right occasions emerge."