Shattered

Chapter 11

Do you ever just look at something and want to bang your head on it? Just forget the world exists. To disappear for just a second. If banging my head on something for a split moment makes me go away, I'd do it a million times.

After all, it'll be worth it in the end. Anywhere is better than here. This apartment is hell on earth. Don't believe me? Tell me how it feels to have all your free will thrown away. Every move you make is closely watched, every action taken requires permission. At some point, it makes you feel inhuman, like a pet.

That feeling isn't one anybody should have to feel. It's miserable. This room suffocates me, and I'm kept locked in, like a bird in a cage. Maybe that's all I am to him, a trapped bird for him to play around with. My whole life is now in the hands of this man. If he wants to kill me, It'd be incredibly easy, and no one would know. He could starve me if he really wanted to.

Perhaps there were some things I could be grateful for, that he allows me clothes, a bed, showers, food whenever I want. But all the rage in my heart refuses that bit of gratitude, and I don't want to be beholden to him, he doesn't deserve that.

It's never been in my nature to fight back. I've always been easily persuaded, which many took advantage of. Yes, I could certainly block this trait of mine, but I believe it's apart of my character, and a good quality for myself. I'm a dreamer, an optimist. As much as I want to be convinced that someone will rescue me, I know deep in my heart that it's almost impossible.

I'm in a whole other country, so there's not much my family can do. If I were to, by some miracle, escape, I haven't the slightest clue about New York. Honestly, maybe I'm better off just staying here. Stella did say leaving would cause more harm than good, although I am still perplexed on the exact meaning of her words. I could try and ask her later, but that might be risky since I already pissed Chandler off today.

A thoughtful sigh left my lips, my eyes slowly blinking, and a sneaky yawn passed. It was only seven, but I was surprisingly sleepy. Assuming it was all the weeping I had done into the pillows, I decided to let my body have a break.

Stella had brought me lunch earlier, not sharing many words. I had asked where Chandler was, and she said in his office and that he was stressed about me. An afternoon of peace had been graciously gifted to me, and I was eternally grateful for the serenity.

As the day progressed, the temperature seemed to drop. The cold air forced me to change into black leggings and a plum sweater. My hair still resides in the ponytail I had made earlier, just slightly ruffled.

Lazily shutting my eyes, I rested above the blankets, my mind too hazy to bother pulling them over me. One hand laid behind my neck, while the other sat softly on my stomach.

Unfortunately, this moment between the dream world and real life was cut short by knocking on the wooden door. Grumbling a series of complaints, I didn't bother to reply, only lifted myself to a sitting position.

As I suspected, Chandler pushed the door open, pacing a few steps in. "Dinner is ready." He announced, his right hand still on the door knob.

"I'm not hungry." The dull ache in my stomach argued otherwise, but it was impossibly hard to defy him. Refusing something as simple as food would surely anger him.

Honestly, it's probably stupid of me to try such a tactic, but I didn't feel like listening to his stupid orders and letting him boss me around.

"I didn't ask, Jess." His metal gray eyes dared me to disobey, expecting a cowardly retreat.

"I am my own person, and I say I don't want to eat. That is my final answer." Standing from the bed, I crossed my arms and stared him down.

"My patience with you is running thin, do not make this difficult." Chandler slowly moved closer to me, too subtle for me to notice at first. His arm reached out to me, waiting for my hand to take his.