"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 48: Gluttony

A/N — WARNING: please tread carefully with this chapter as it deals with suicidal thoughts and mild depression. I know I have dabbled with darker topics before, but I figured I would give a warning for this one since we're heading towards darker themes. Thank you for reading, hope y'all are well.

I returned to Austin's cell the next day. Already, it was turning into a familiar cycle of waking up in Simon's bed, forcing myself to eat and train (what little I could do), and then staying in Austin's cell until I'd eaten all of my lunch. Spite ignited my hunger and so did the pitiful look in Austin's fugly face, so I made sure to practically lick my plate of every crumb. I decided my schedule that day of waking up, training, Austin, and then I'd come back just to bother him as I drank my pre-dinner coffee. Maybe I would ask to have my dinner here, too, just for shits and giggles.

Price had put me on light duty until my hand was completely healed, however long that would be, and I was glad for it. I didn't care to do anything else other than practicing shooting and loading a pistol one-handed and enjoying a run after breakfast. My brain simply couldn't handle much more weight. Sleeping in Simon's bed every night was something I didn't care about getting caught doing, either.

It would give them a reason to discharge me if the wrong person saw so maybe...

"So, what's your plan?" The voice in front of me croaked. He was obviously dehydrated and hungry, and I felt not an ounce of sympathy as I drank my water and munched on my sandwich.

"Hm?" I answered, my mouth still full of bread, ham, and cheese. The mayonnaise added a nice touch as I licked it off the corner of my mouth, his eyes glancing down to watch before he looked back up. "My plan? For you?" He nodded. "You deserve less compassion than what I got when your team had me holed up, so that's my plan."

He leaned his head back, probably so he wouldn't have to watch me eat in front of him. I chewed louder. "How long have I been here?"

Contemplating not answering that one, I did anyway. I had nothing better to do than to antagonize him. "Under my care? Almost twenty-four hours. You have about forty-eight more until your body shuts down from lack of water."

"In total. How long have I been here?"

My eyes narrowed at him from his exasperated tone. "Based on the way you stink up the place, I'd say about..." I had to think on the spot. If my rescue was about a week ago, I'd wager that that was how long it'd been since Soap brought him in. "I think about a week." Which meant I had another couple of weeks with the damn stitches making my skin feel tight. "You gonna tell me where Graves is, then?"

He let out a sarcastic scoff. "You think a bit of starvation is goin' to get me to talk?"

I shrugged with one shoulder before taking a bite and replying with my mouth full, "Not starvation, Austin. Dehydration. It's a bit worse when every fiber of your body aches for a single drop of water. Your lips will crack, you'll feel like your on the verge of a panic attack when your heart rate starts to rise. I heard the cramps are awful, spasming and hurting — an indescribable pining, I've heard. And then you'll get disoriented, and that is truly my time to shine. I'll get it out of you when you're so desperate for water that you'll do anything to moisten your dry tongue."

A moment of silence blanketed the holding cell, wrapping me in its uncomfortable embrace while it choked him. I leaned down to pick up my cup of water from the ground just to slurp it annoyingly, filling the awkward silence.

The fucker would die regardless of whether or not I got information on Graves, it was just a matter of how. Dehydration or a knife in an artery of my choosing; it was his decision of when, I supposed.