Page 11

Chapter 11

Nova

Sleep is nearly impossible, even though I'm exhausted. Each time I start to drift off, I jolt awake, terrified the monster is about to grab me.

The cold doesn't help, either.

At least the light is on. The light switch for the room is on the outside, and thankfully, my captors haven't turned it off. Just in case they do, I left the light on in the other room with the toilet. Having it bright doesn't affect my sleep, because after my father taught me a lesson by locking me in a pitch-black room, I need some light to sleep.

There's no window in this room, so the only reference to how much time has passed or if it's day or night is based on the food. But time doesn't matter; I'll likely die in this room.

You'd think the thought would make me fight, but no, I'm broken and weak. Besides, there are worse ways to go—I know that firsthand; I've seen it. I could go the same way as my mother.

I shudder and push unsteadily to my feet to walk to the room with the toilet. Even though I've hardly drank anything, I still need to pee. I've been putting it off as long as I can, worrying that my captor would watch me in there. But need has surpassed my horrified vanity. Regardless, I go as fast as possible and stare at the dark color of my urine when I flush. I'm already getting dehydrated, but at least that means I won't have to pee very often. It would be nice to wash my hands, though.

Once my romper is back in place, I return to the other room. Jerome is there and puts a food tray on the floor. This looks like lunchtime food: a salad with juicy berries, slices of chicken, and crumbled cheese, along with what looks like a protein drink and another piece of cake.

Jerome had cleaned up the food splattered from the tray Massimo had kicked last night when he brought in my breakfast. He's silent as he picks up the untouched breakfast tray before he turns to me, looking like he'll say something.

Tell me to eat. Please.

If I ask him to give me that order, is that breaking the rules of Massimo's test or game?

I don't know. But I can't forget Massimo's rage last night when he kicked the tray. His vicious malice and the menacing hate he's allowed me to see. The man is a vault otherwise, so whenever he let his emotions show, I know it's deliberate—he wants me to see them.

He's a man of control, that much is clear. I'm slowly gathering information to help me navigate this new monster.

So, if I ask Jerome to give me the order to eat, that would likely play into Massimo's hands. Either he'd punish me for trying to skirt around his rules, or he'd have knowledge to use against me.

I keep my mouth shut.

Jerome does, too. Even though he looks like he wants to say something, he only turns away. I watch him carry out the breakfast tray, leaving me the lunch tray, and he shuts and locks the door.

I sink to the floor, ignoring the pangs of hunger and my thirst.

Gabe comes the next time, his brow deeply furrowed. "What are you trying to achieve with the hunger strike, Nova?"

At least he called me by my name.

"Nothing," I croak and cough on the dryness of my throat.

"Do you have food allergies or something?"

I want to laugh, break out into hysterical laughter, but I only shake my head .

He sighs. "This won't make Massimo break. Just give him what he wants."

"I am. This is me," I say hoarsely, leaning my head back against the wall. "What time is it?"

"Seven p.m. on Tuesday."

I've been in this room for thirty-six hours. I'm cold, but it's like my mind isn't fully processing it.

"For fuck's sakes," Gabe mutters, grabbing the full lunch tray but leaving the dinner one. "At least drink some water."

He stalks out, slamming the door and locking it.

I grab the water bottle and open it, forcing myself not to guzzle it, and instead take small sips. But it's gone all too soon.

At least they're giving me water. I had no food or water when I failed my father's test.

This won't make Massimo break .

I'm not trying to make Massimo break. This isn't stubborn defiance, or me trying to get my way.

I may be broken in many ways, but my resolve to remember the hard-learned lessons isn't one of them. I've endured too many years of brutal, merciless lessons to ever forget what they've taught me.