Because, Brett... [BxB]

Chapter 23: Mr. Blue-Eyes

Brett

He stares at me, not saying anything as he sets a plate down on the table next to the door. I sit huddled on the bed in the opposite corner. The room is dark, always dark. Just a slither of light slips through the tiny window that's too high to reach let alone see out of. At least it's comfortable, that's what I tell myself. That despite everything, it could be worse.

"You can't ignore me forever," he says.

It's a new thing I'm trying. After my countless failed attempts of escape ended in beatings and bruisings, skin dyed in a mix of purples, blues, greens and blacks, I've given up as far as fighting my way out is concerned. I wonder if maybe he'll grow bored of keeping me captive if I stay silent for long enough though — not giving him the satisfaction.

Crossing the room, he reaches out to touch me. My body lurches at the contact and I hit him away, a sharp slap across the hand. Still, I say nothing. I ignore him as he chuckles, shaking his head and wanders away. Although, he perks up at a rumbling coming from outside, gravel under the tires of a car. Pressing a silencing finger against his lips, he slips out the door and I hear it lock with a click behind him.

The sandwich he left for me looks good, just as all the food he leaves me looks good. But I don't touch it. It stays on the table by the door and I collapse into the bed, my back to it. However, it's only moments of silence before I hear the startling crash of the door being thrown back open.

"We've got a visitor." Peering over my shoulder, I see him striding towards me with purpose. Wrapped around one of his hands is a length of rope and the other fiddles with the fraying end. "I need you to stay here and stay quiet. Think you can do that?"

I turn away. I ignore him until he begins to climb on top of me. And then I struggle. I thrash against his weight. It's as though he gets a kick out of it though, he grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he overpowers me, putting the muscles he's clearly worked so hard to obtain to good use. He forces me onto my stomach and drags my hands behind my back, he winds the rope around my wrists and then sits me up before he ties it tightly to the frame of the bed. For the finishing touch, he shoves fabric into my mouth, fastening it at the back of my head. It catches in my hair and I feel the dread consume me and tears building in my eyes.

He's not always rough with me. Most of the time I'm left alone, as though he doesn't really know what to do with me now I'm here. It's only when I try to escape or when there's a chance of someone on the outside finding out.

"Now don't move an inch. They'll be gone soon."