I fling the bowl away as soon as the last drop is finished, sag against the fence, and fight back tears as the long night stretches out in front of me.
Chapter 10
I last two days being caged outside.
It’s the late afternoon rainstorm that does me in. It starts raining so hard that I have to climb inside the cramped dog house that stinks of wet dog, pee, and oh yeah, can’t forget the dog shit.
And why does he even have a dog kennel? I haven’t seen any dogs around, so what the hell?
I myself am fairly ripe by this point, too. I’ve continued drinking whatever ‘treat’ Xavier gives me in the dog bowl—sometimes fruit juice, sometimes broth, but nothing ever very substantive. I’m getting weaker and weaker without any real food.
After the rainstorm passes, I crawl out of the doghouse. The sprinkling of hay all over the ground of the enclosure is all sloppy with dark brown mud.
And I have to pee. As I squat, yet again, behind the dog house to relieve myself, I look around, then down at myself.
What was it that I was so hot and bothered about that led to all this?
I think I was worried about losing my dignity if I let Xavier feed me by hand?
I look down at the dark smears of questionable origin that are all over my once sky-blue dress after climbing out of the dog house.
Oh yeah, I’m doing awesome in the dignity department at the moment.
Not to mention, God, I thought the hours passed slowly when I could wander the house and read book after book?
Ha.
Hahahahahaha.
Try sitting in a 10x10 square cage for forty-eight hours straight.
There’s nothing to do but strain to listen for any little sound.
&nbs
p; I heard horses, I think? That makes sense since Xavier keeps using horse metaphors. Maybe he trains them? Or boards them?
Mainly there’s just the unending drone of crickets that kept me awake all night last night. During the day, there’s nothing to look at but the back of the lodge and the same stupid-ass landscape. Then there’s the bug and mosquito swatting to look forward to when the sun goes down.
Have I mentioned how much I hate nature?
There are only so many times you can think out elaborate revenge murder fantasies in exquisite detail before even they start to lose their luster.
Thankfully, the lack of food makes me sleepy so I nap a lot.
Which worked well enough when the sun was out, but now that I’m soaked through and stinking so much I can barely stand to be in my own presence? Yeah, not so much.
Staring out at the rain-drenched landscape, it hits me what an absolute fucking idiot I’ve been. It’s Hostage Basics 101.
I just have to pretend to go along with what the lunatic wants. I only need to make it look like I’m submitting. He doesn’t have to know that in my head I’m secretly whispering fuck you fuck you fuck you every time I eat the food he’s hand-feeding me.
Then bam, I can be comfortable while I get through this whole thing. Get pregnant. Pop out a kid. Get back to my old life.
Maybe that sounds harsh. But you have to understand, I’m not the maternal type. I never was. Blame it on my mom who always referred to me as her 18-year shackle. She couldn’t tell the story enough times about what a difficult baby I was and how by the time I was two months old, she’d already made the appointment to get her tubes tied.
She realized what a mistake she made, she’d say, but by that point it was too late to give me back! She said it laughingly to friends like it was all a huge joke. My existence, the great bumble of her life.
But that was fine. I had Dad and we were as close as two peas in a pod. He said Mom just wasn’t ready for kids. She had a hard life growing up in Mexico taking care of her seven brothers and sisters. She hated anything that reminded her of that. Aka any sort of responsibility whatsoever. Aka, me.