Animals [z.m. || a.u.]

xvi.

xvi.

True to her assumptions and judgements, Claire Watson was deprived of justice to the last sentence the black haired boy said. He'd said she wouldn't be tied down anymore for she had learnt her lesson; which she won't deny as she had unmistakenly comprehended it's better not to mess with him. As instinctively as it could be her brain had started mapping plans of escape from this dark, gloomy, grim place as soon as possible lest these boys lose their temperament and change their decision. But she did not have to wait for them to lose their temperament.

The tangibility of the moment was proven time and again to Claire's suggestive mind as it gave her hope that this might be just another nightmare of her restless sleep or the rope tying her hands together to the post of a bed was lose, but the harsh tugs on the purple-red bruised, molested wrists of the girl recited the harsh reality to her. The bruises were painful, nothing in this place was painless. She was literally tired of all of this. Her head was messed. Her throat was dry and begged for water, her stomach tugging inwards with huger. Her limbs spasmed of the absence of freedom and being forced to be in the same position for who knows how long. She did not know where she was as also she was oblivious as for what time of the day was it. How long had she been here? Every ticking second seemed like forever for her as she continued with her solitude in a place totally unfit for any person.

She didn't know if she was grateful or not when she realised she was no longer in the dark basement which was so stark black with absence of any light that she couldn't even see her own legs let alone any part of the room. The room she was in right now was not really something Claire would have imagined herself to be in considering how she was brought up in riches galore and services at the distance of a short call. But it was better than the basement. It had a window with translucent glasses textured so as to avoid a proper image to be conveyed to anyone trying to peek into the room. But the light filtered from the panes anyway, lighting the room dimly. She was tied to the leg of a hefty double bed with a rope of a short length allowing Claire to move around in a circle of a relatively small radius. She was huddled in an uncomfortable position but comfort was the last thing on her mind as her fatigued brain ran over worst case and best case scenarios. She was not sure if she was just framing scenarios or drifting in and out of a chaotic sleep seeing the same scenarios as dreams - or what she might address to as nightmares. The humid smell of the thick air in the room and the huge loss of tears from her eyes just made Claire's head feel heavier. How long was she to be subjected to such a harsh treatment?

Suddenly there was some hustling heard from the other side of the wooden door. The door wasn't as hefty as that of the basement yet what bothered Claire was the absence of a latch on her side of the door which clearly stroke out the possibility of her gaining any privacy to get any of her escape plans into motion without being caught.

The door opened to reveal the boy she had grown to fear yet disgust with all her guts. She glared at him, tears of anger and helplessness quickly blurring her vision. Even through her blurred vision he looked unaffected. Tall and confident as he stood, she doubted he had a heart. He walked closer and Claire lowered her gaze not wanting to face him any more. He crouched in front of her with a paper plate in his hands.

Food.

Claire couldn't lie about not being hungry because she was famished! Her stomach grumbled at the promise of having some food in her system in near future and she looked up at him. He had amused an eyebrow quirked up as though he hadn't expected something like this. He placed the plate containing a sandwich and the packed water bottle in front on her and leaned towards her. She stiffened as she sensed the close vicinity between them as his face was right above her shoulder. He produced a rope out of nowhere and took her bare ankles in his hands tying them together tightly as she winced at the tight roughness of the cloth rope. He then went ahead to untie her wrists from the bedpost. She rolled her wrists flinching when pain shot right through them and traced its way to her spine. He pushed the platter towards her and she hungrily looked at the sandwich. It was alluring, sure, but it was matter of pride. Accepting the sandwich would be equivalent to accepting the fact that she would live here. Giving the wrong signal would just lower Claire's pride. But her fatigued body screamed for food.