Page 8 of Death

Nolan takes my hand and pulls me off the bed. As we walk toward the doorway, I take in the double bed and the dark wooden trunk he mentioned earlier, which is situated next to where the chain is bolted to the wall. It looks like those old ones that you can use to store clothes in. My eyes touch on the old bedside table and closet before I’m forced to walk down the hallway.

When we reach the kitchen, he pushes me down on the chair, making the burn from the beating intensify tenfold.

I lower my head and barely listen as Nolan moves around the kitchen, preparing dinner.

It takes a few minutes of breathing through the trauma before I’m able to think straight.

Panic pours like lava through my veins as I realize how much danger I’m in.

Nolan’s insane.

I have no idea what he plans to do with me, but I'm certain it won't be good.

Slowly, I lift my head and glance at the door. I’m aware of Nolan standing with his back to me where he’s stirring something in a pot.

My vision zooms in on the door, and before fear can win, I dart up and make a run for it.

A few feet from the door, my right ankle is ripped from under me, and I slam hard into the wooden floor. The chain cuts into my skin while my chin connects with the floor. Dazed, a coppery taste fills my mouth.

I forgot about the chain.

Nolan grabs hold of my shoulders and hauls me to my feet. I’m pushed backward and shoved down into the chair.

“Now look what you’ve done!” he snaps angrily.

Shaking like a leaf in a storm, I gasp for air, my eyes locked on Nolan. He walks to a cupboard and removes a first aid kit.

I swallow the coppery taste, still reeling from the disappointment of my failed escape attempt.

Nolan takes a seat opposite me and lifts my right foot to his lap. He digs the key out of his pocket, and after removing the chain from my ankle, he leans down and secures it to my left ankle. He shoves the key back into his pocket then levels me with an angry glare.

Terrified of how he’s going to punish me for trying to escape, I sit frozen while he cleans the abrasions on my right leg.

When he carefully wraps a bandage around my ankle, he shoots me another glare.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, hoping to calm him down.

Once he’s done, he gently moves my foot off his lap, then standing up, he towers over me. “You will not hurt your body! It belongs to me.”

I cringe, ducking my head and squeezing my eyes shut. I don’t move a muscle until I hear him set something down on the table.

“Time to eat,” he says, his tone affectionate again. Cautiously, I peek up and watch as he scoops some baked beans onto a spoon. He brings it to my mouth and says, “Open up.”

Terrified, I do as I’m told, and for the next few minutes, Nolan proceeds to feed me baked beans, sausage, and mashed potatoes.

It’s just as degrading as when he was wiping down my body, and it makes the hatred I feel toward him grow in my chest.

The food is tasteless and only makes me feel more nauseated, but I don’t dare refuse.

Once he’s done feeding me, he holds a glass of water to my lips and allows me to take a few sips.

Satisfaction tightens his features. “See, it’s not that difficult to obey me.”

With a quivering chin, all I can do is stare at him as he gets a plate of food for himself.

While Nolan eats, I try to gather myself and calm down so I can think of a way to get away from him.

The chain is the first problem I have to solve, but Nolan has the key.