Astray

04 / Questions

When she emerged from the shower, Emerson was relieved to see that the clothes Felix had left on the bench for her were warm, comfortable, and not revealing; a pair of sweatpants and a soft tee-shirt. She noticed that the clothes—underwear and socks included—also happened to be her size to a near tee, but refused to let herself ponder how Felix knew her sizes so accurately.

As promised, he had also given her a small plastic comb, along with a hair binder, and while Emerson was nowhere near skilled with hairdos, she managed to do one long braid that kept her wet hair out of her face successfully enough.

It took a lot of courage to make herself knock on the bathroom door, knowing that she would have to face him again. Over and over she repeated the same phrase in her head: I'm going to get out of here. I can do this. I'm going to get out of here. I can do this. I'm going to get out of here. I can do this...

Felix opened the door as soon as her knuckles made contact with the hard surface, and she took an instinctive step backwards.

"All good?" Felix asked, his eyes darting around the bathroom and looking Emerson up and down. She nodded stiffly, and he took hold of her arm once again.

As he lead her back out of the bathroom and into the hall, Emerson found herself digging her heels into the floor in an attempt to take in her surroundings. Felix wasn't phased by this, although he did glance back with a reproachful look as he tugged her forward into the bedroom. Within seconds of the door being shut, she launched into a desperate spiel.

"You don't have to tie me up," she pleaded, as Felix headed towards the chain on the floor. "Please, I promise I won't run, I—,"

"I'm not worried about you escaping," Felix cut her off, and had the audacity to flash her a sympathetic smile. "And I'd like to think you wouldn't run off, but you'll need to prove that to me first."

Emerson, who was actively trying to force her arm out of Felix's grip as he pulled her closer to the chain, tried again.

"Felix," she begged, hoping she could appeal to him if she used his name, "please, I'll do anything, my wrists hurt so bad..."

It didn't matter. Felix was unmoving, and soon enough a distinctive click told Emerson that one of her wrists was back to being restrained. Angry and disappointed in her attempt at bargaining, she gave a final yank and her arm came free from her captor's grip, allowing her to move to the furthest away corner of the bed. The sight of new, clean bedsheets made Emerson's stomach turn over in embarrassment, but she pushed the feeling down and glared at Felix.

He was watching her with an unreadable expression, the sympathetic smile fading slightly. It wasn't until he turned around that Emerson noticed the plate of food sitting atop the dresser.

"Are you hungry?" Felix asked, indicating the plate. Emerson let her glare falter. She was hungry, but she wasn't about to trust any food or drink he prepared.

Felix seemed to have predicted her hesitation. "I didn't do anything to it," he said. "I don't think your body would react well to more drugs right now. I promise, it's only my shitty cooking skills you have to worry about."

Emerson didn't react, mentally wagering whether she should eat, or if it was better to go hungry and avoid the possibility of whatever concoction he might have laced the food with.

"Hey," Felix snapped her back to reality, waving half of a sandwich in the air. "Look. Just in case you still don't believe me." He tore off a small piece of the sandwich, swallowed it, and smiled at her.

"I'm not hungry," Emerson muttered finally. He was ruining her appetite; she felt nauseated just looking at him. Felix's smile fell at once, and he set the sandwich down.