"For how long?" I press. "How long do you want me to stay, Javi?"
His reply takes longer this time. The drawn-out silence only makes my anxiety worse. His voice is too quiet when he speaks. And this is how I know he means it.
"Forever," he answers.
Forever.
The word ricochets around my skull, obliterating what little hope I had left.
I can't breathe.
He really is going to kill me. Except, he's untying me now. Gently.
He's so much bigger than me. There's no way I will make it past him. There's no way I can fight him off. He removes the bonds from my ankles and wrists and then allows me to sit up, gesturing to a tray next to the bed.
Breakfast. He brought me breakfast.
I want to cry. I want to plead with him. But he doesn't let me do either of those things.
“Would you like to eat today, sweet Bella?”
I want more than anything to eat everything on the tray. But I am not naïve enough to believe that it will come for free. Everything with Javi will come at a cost. To my self-respect. My dignity. My humanity. And there’s a part of me that wants to pretend that there is still a fight left within. That I am stronger than him- at least mentally, and I can defeat him in that way.
But basic human needs are a motivation unlike any other. When you have gone without for so long, morals fall by the wayside. Everything else falls by the wayside.
“What do I need to do?” I ask.
He tilts his head down, giving me just a glimpse of his dark beard and a flash of gold eyes.
“Lay back,” he tells me. “On the bed.”
I do as he asks.
“Spread your legs.”
This time I don’t move. His voice grows harsher. Huskier.
“Spread your legs, Bella. Or I will spread them for you.”
I spread my legs and hate myself a little more. I can feel his eyes all over me. Assaulting me in the most intimate way possible. Visually penetrating the place I have never allowed a man to see before.
I am humiliated. Ashamed. Degraded. And he is turned on, evident by his heavy breathing.
“Play with yourself, beauty,” he says. “Show me how you like it.”
Again, I hesitate.
A low rumble thunders from his throat. And his next words remind me that I have no choice.
“Or perhaps you would like to play some more games with me, instead?”
I reach between my legs and touch myself. It is robotic. Stiff. Awkward. My eyes are squeezed shut.
I jump when his fingers find my breast, skimming over my nipple. My body responds to him, and a storm of emotions festers inside of me. I try to swallow them back down.
This monster is the worst kind of evil.
The kind that doesn’t feel like evil when he touches me. The kind that feels… good. And when his mouth captures the soft globe of flesh and he groans, I am wet for him. It is the worst kind of deception. The worst kind of betrayal from my own body.