When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 13

Leo entered the room. His eyes widened when he saw Beth. "What's going on here?"

"I..." She raked her mind for an explanation. What could be a plausible explanation for her sitting on the ground, surrounded by scattered cutlery? "I opened your wardrobe, and this silly thing fell out." The basket was right next to her foot. She kicked it, propelling it in his direction.

It stopped at his feet.

He frowned at it. "Sure." A strand of jet-black hair hung into his eye. He brushed it away, but it didn't make his face any more readable.

"Yeah, you've got a mess here..." She gazed at the room, tidy except for the eating utensils littering the ground. "In your wardrobe or cabinet, I mean." She tried to give him a grin, not sure if it worked.

"This wardrobe..." He pointed at it. "It's no business of yours." He navigated the cluttered ground and reached her side. "Come." He seized her by her arms and pulled her up, his grip hard.

As she rose, she held on to the knife and pushed it into the waistband at the back of her skirt, hiding it under the loose hem of her blouse.

He let go of her arms, picked up the basket, and collected the spilled objects from the ground. When he had finished, he went to the door beside the wardrobe, taking the basket with him. Before he left the room, he pointed at a chair beside the table. "Sit down there and wait. Don't touch a thing in here."

She considered rebellion, but then fatigue made her obey.

"Yes, master." She glowered at him.

He raised an eyebrow, then he nodded and left.

Was sarcasm lost on that man?

Sitting at the edge of the chair, she listened to the muffled voices from next door.

When Leo returned only moments later, he held a pitcher and a cup. "You must be thirsty." He poured water and placed the cup on the table next to her.

She tilted her head and pulled up one corner of her mouth.

Would he realize that drinking from a cup with your hands bound behind your back might be a challenge?

He sighed. "Get up and turn around."

She obliged, and he unbound her.

It was a relief to move her arms forward again. She rubbed her wrists. Their chafed skin was red from the rope.

She was about to thank him, but she was afraid that it would encourage him to get too friendly. So she reached for the drink instead. The water felt wonderful as it rinsed her dry gums and passed her throat.

Ignoring him watching her, she swallowed eagerly and had the cup empty in mere moments. She held it towards him.

He looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

Was there a hint of a crooked smile on his lips?

Swallowing her pride, she gave in. "Can I have another one... please?"

"Sure." He filled the cup from his pitcher once more.

She drank.

When she finished, he was still watching her. Any hint of a grin was gone now. There was just his dark-eyed, foreign stare. He looked younger here than out in the sun, in his mid-twenties, maybe. His white shirt with the frayed sleeves and collar clearly dated back to the age of tech. He must have taken off his black leather jacket in the room next door.

Was he getting ready to take her?

Involuntarily, her gaze went to his crotch, but there was nothing out of the ordinary visible beneath his faded jeans.