Viscious

Mixed Signals.

           As much as I tried to not enjoy it, I actually ended up inhaling the Stromboli. Even the thought of sleeping next to him wasn't enough to offset my stomach as I initially thought. The food was warm and soothing, reminding me of happier times. I can remember driving home with my takeout and some household things I had picked up, windows cracked and Creature slobbering out the window. I remember going home and bringing everything in before kicking off my jeans and running upstairs to eat my Stromboli in the warm bath. Music from my phone playing and the lights dim. It felt so liberating. Nobody there to judge me, save for the camera I now know was in my room.

          No condescending Dallas with his constant looks of disdain that I recieved for having personality or a free spirit. He always did admire conceited and stuffy types, no doubt subconsciously seeking the type of women he had grown up around due to his family's wealth and his own father's snooty demeanor. His mom was refreshing though when away from the others. I'll miss her. Even after our split she was kind to me.

            The night went over with only a small hitch. I was disciplined for not wanting to sleep in only my panties, the act too intimate for me to feel comfortable. He busted my ass like a small child right over his knee, and with gritted teeth. He packed me to the restroom after that to do feminine hygiene and I did not speak to or look at him. When he brought me back to the bed to sleep, I curled up small against on the edge trying to hide my face in the pillow. He had lectured me about being pouty and ungrateful and clutched me so tightly during the night I could hardly breathe.

        After the initial terror of being restrained and having him so close, with only my underwear as a buffer, I somehow managed to drift off. It worries me that my body is adjusting to him. That I had been here long enough to finally adapt to the high stress and perilous situation, that my body had let it's guard down somewhat. It's definitely a defeating feeling when you are aware of what is happening, but can't even stop yourself from succumbing to it. My survival depends on it. I like to think it is all my strategy, so I don't seem as pathetic. Afterall, if you are going to be captive until your death it helps if your captor is fond of you. Right?

         Whatever softness he had let me have yesterday is gone today though. He is all edges and angles now. His hostility tainting the atmosphere of the ebtire hpuse. I've had no shower this morning or potty break, no clothes, no breakfast or water. He tore hair from my scalp without warning when he untied me from the bedpost and slung me back into the cage. I tried speaking earlier, and he threw hot coffee at me. Afterwards he threatened to take me back to the barn and give me thirty lashes.

        The coffee had went all over my legs and pillows, so I had to scoot them away and stack them in the corner. Now I sit here cold on the bare metal bottom of the cage, dying to pee or drink, and even more confused than I had came here. At this rate, I'm sure I'll die soon. He won't even stay in the room now. That should not bother me, but the change has me paranoid and uncertain.

          This is my fault. I should have just shed the pajamas last night and let it be.  He's already seen everything. I live in a damn cage. I should've just dropped it. I knew how unstable he was after Dallas's voice mails, and I made it obvious that I don't want him near me when I had my tantrum. If I expect to live, or at least 'comfortably', I've got to right this.

             "Hello! Hello?" I call out, hoping he will respond to me. After a few minutes of silence, I try again and I can hear him trudging through the house towards me.

              I hurriedly tidy the cage and sit down by the door hoping to please him. I keep thinking of how bad that barn must smell now, how the heat must have intensified the decomposing process and how I cannot end up back there again where I am willing to bet Bobbi is now too. His anger weighs heavy on my conscience and I cannot stand it. My skin crawls with nerves and I squirm and itch. He storms into the room, unlocking the cage and yanking me up my my hair instead of my hands. I yelp but then bite my lip and close my eyes in fear. He shakes me  by my hair and then let's me fall forward on my face. Another test. I can't fail. I army crawl to his feet where I lay my head on his foot. Here's my chance. I have to sell it.