Quiet Sunday Dinners

during

The room certainly was an upgrade from their previous accommodations.

Opulent, silk pillows decorated a plush bed. Beads hung across a sparkling vanity. Couches and various bean bags squatted across the room. In case someone brought Marla spiked Tupperware again, she would have a nice place to sit instead of sliding down her door.

Speaking of sustenance, a new assortment of food rich enough to beat out the last supper had been delivered an hour ago. All kinds of fruit from peaches to blueberries to stuff she couldn't name. Cheese, sandwiches, soup, everything. Plenty of drinks. More than she could possibly eat before it all spoiled.

Marla knew what the Sphinx was trying to do. He was trying to get her to associate their upgrade and sweet treatment with him and feel gratitude enough to tell him things.

But, she remembered the truth. If he was the leader, he had gotten them kidnapped in the first place. So, she would absolutely not be a grateful hostage.

Of course, that didn't mean she went on a hunger strike. Just that, as she filled up her stomach, she remembered who the enemy was.

Speaking of food and enemies, the evil spiky fruit sat on the bathroom counter on its handkerchief. Marla had been careful not to touch it on her way back.

It had been hours since then. Scott still wasn't back, and so only alone did Marla battle her decision.

If she pricked her finger, would they use her blood? Her DNA?

Maybe it was poisoned and a prick would knock her out.

But, it just seemed like there were easier ways to do that. If he wanted to kill, maim, torture, or do anything to her, he would have done it.

So why include some twisted mind game?

Did he really believe this fruit cloned people?

Because Marla would've gone for a more realistic lie if she wanted a prisoner to touch some random fruit. Something like 'here take this, it's delicious.' Or something like 'you're my prisoner, so I can physically force you to touch this fruit.'

With her limited knowledge, Marla tried to make deductions to explain this decision. For example, the Sphinx was the leader of something important enough to have a stone dungeon, so he must have been some type of smart to get to where he was. Hopefully.

What was he playing at?

Did he just want her to go insane deciphering his motives?

In that case, would pricking her finger be the best thing to do? She could disprove his theories in one fell swoop...but she hated going along with his instructions if she couldn't parse the reasoning behind them.

What if she was doing something irreversible and that she couldn't possibly understand the consequences of?

When someone's actions seemed to not make sense to Marla, that usually meant that their complete motivations were not yet unveiled to her. For the most part, people didn't just do stupid things. There were reasons.

She wished Scott were here to ground her. This decision was difficult to make alone. Plus, the longer he was gone, the more paranoid she got. What if she never saw him again?

Marla had tried knocking on the door earlier and opening it, but to no success. The room might be pretty, nice, and comfy but this was still a locked cell. There was no leaving.

Marla peeked in the bathroom. The prickly fruit still sat on the counter. No change.

With socked feet, she created rivulets in the carpet from her frantic pacing.