Page 74 of Long Pig

“The cabinets weren’t dirty,” she said. “I did it mostly to stay busy. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

He rubbed his chin while staring at her.Even breaths, he told himself. He was overreacting.

“Did you make plans for dinner?” he asked.

“Spaghetti,” she said softly, her expression pensive.

“That works. I bought fresh bread, which will go with it perfectly.” He wasn’t ready to smile yet.

“This is the last cabinet. I’ll put the pots back and start on dinner.”

He stared at her until she shifted slightly from foot to foot. Was she nervous because of his reaction? She should be.

“Sit at the table when you’re finished so I can bring the things I purchased inside, and you won’t be in my way.” He turned and went down the stairs.

When he walked in carrying the first bags, she was sitting at the table with her head downcast. He set the bags down. “Don’t touch anything,” he said before he went to fetch the next load.

It took four trips. He tried to shake off his foul mood, but it didn’t fade. Maybe keeping Willow was a bad idea. He walked inside with his last load. She waited much as she hadbefore. He sorted the groceries and put them away. The things he purchased for her went into the closet in his room. Giving her gifts wasn’t a priority right now.

He settled at the table and watched her. As seconds turned into minutes, she clenched and unclenched her hands. Had she been up to something while he was gone? Trust had been growing between them, but she put a stop to it. Could she get it back?

Her head finally lifted. “May I make you some tea while I start dinner?” Nervousness filled her voice.

“Okay,” he said. He still didn’t smile.

She walked into the kitchen and removed the pot she would need along with the food. He’d left the bread on the counter.

Her nervousness excited him. It would add a duller taste to the meat. He’d never eaten someone alive. Maybe as punishment. He could take one of her fingers and eat it in front of her. The idea grew.

She looked up when he abruptly stood. Slowly, he took a step towards her. She backed away, which he liked. Willow wasn’t dumb. She was a survivor.

Her life would be a little different from here on out.

???

Willow

When he left to get the first bags of groceries, she moved fast, her pulse thrumming in her ears as she pulled the ammo out. She practically threw the pots back into the clean cabinet. The chain clinked softly on the tile as she picked up the rifle with tremblinghands. Her fingers were clumsy and slick with sweat as she fed the first round into the chamber.

The second slipped.

A metallic ping broke the silence as the cartridge hit the tile and rolled, spinning lazily before vanishing beneath the lip of the cabinet. She froze.

Then, footsteps.

Heart hammering, she snatched the chain and hurried back to the table. Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped it. She forced herself to move carefully, laying the links on the floor just so, arranging them as though they hadn’t moved. Then she lowered herself onto the chair, trying to still her heaving chest.

Could he see the cartridge from here?

Her eyes darted toward the cabinet’s shadowed base. Maybe it was hidden. Maybe not. The door opened, and her breathing stopped again.

He entered carrying four plastic bags. His eyes swept the room before he turned his attention to her. She lowered her eyes in submission. She’d perfected this role.

He said nothing, just set the bags down.

When he turned for the next load, she exhaled shakily and reached for the dropped cartridge. Her fingers found it, and she slipped it into the rifle, sliding the bolt forward with a muffled click that sounded deafening in her ears.

Her pulse refused to slow. It wasn’t hard to look nervous; she was terrified.