Not ofme, but of what I am.
I close the door behind me.
“Hungry?” I ask, as if we’re civilized. As if she’s here by choice.
Her voice is low. “You left me here. For two fucking weeks.”
“I did.”
“You come back while I am asleep.”
“Also true.”
She waits for more. An apology. An explanation.
I give her neither.
Instead, I walk to the tray and lift the cover. The salmon is still warm. I cut a piece, fork it, and offer it across the table.
She stares at it like it might explode.
“You’re insane.” Her words are nothing more than a veiled barb meant to antagonize me into action I won’t take.
Instead, I acknowledge the truth in her claim. “Possibly.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“I won’t scream.”
“You already did.” I remind her. “For hours. Days even. No one can hear you. And no one is going to come for you.”
Her mouth presses into a line. I can see the calculus in her eyes. She’s weighing her options. Weighingme.
“You think this is normal?” she says tightly. “You think feeding me fish makes this okay?”
“No,” I reply. “I think you haven’t eaten in over a day, and your blood sugar is likely bottoming out. That’s not strategic. That’s self-sabotage. And I don’t like what the thought of you hurting does to me.”
I set the fork down and sit across from her.
She doesn’t move.
“I had your lease terminated. Your accounts are closed. Records wiped. You don’t exist outside of this compoundanymore, Ivy. But that’s what you wanted, right? To be invisible?”
She swallows hard. But when she looks at me again, there’s fire behind her fear.
“You want me to beg before you kill me.”
“No,” I say softly. “I want you to stay. I’ll make you stay.” My fingers clench involuntarily.
“I want you to die,” she whispers.
I smile.
“Then we’re both going to be disappointed.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
