“Ah, yes,” I said, ignoring the way my heart beat frantically in my chest. I was not a cow. I was not a pig. I was a person, and I wasn’t going to be sent in for breeding. “My whole purpose for being here. I’m still not going to eat.”
“You will if you want your little friend to stay alive,” he said. His voice was casual, like he was merely commenting on the weather and not the life of an actual human being. He had given me some information though: Ash was alive.
Or they could be totally pretending he was alive in order to get me to do what they wanted. I had to believe he was alive. I had to do whatever I could to keep him alive.
I lifted the fork and dug into the eggs. They were sunny side up, and I grimaced. Not my favorite but my stomach gurgled happily. Tommy relaxed, and we remained in silence as I finished up most of the breakfast. I gulped down the orange juice and set the cup down on the tray. Everything was plastic, I noted. I sighed. They weren’t stupid enough to stick a real knife in my hand, or a glass that I could break and use as…well, some sort of a weapon.
“Happy?” I asked.
“Let’s go,” he said, standing up and reaching for me. I leaned backward, away from his touch, and he glared at me. “It really would make your life so much easier if you didn’t fight me on this.”
“Where are we going?” I said, continuing to lean away from him.
He smiled, and a flash of perfect, white teeth blinded me. He was incredibly handsome, so much that he would have stopped me in my tracks had I seen him walking down the streets. Despite this though, I felt no attraction at all. I didn’t feel revulsion or hatred toward him either. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Before I could even think to stop him, a pair of silver, gleaming cuffs were wrapped tightly around my wrists, bind them together. I looked up at him, feeling a flutter in the pit of my stomach. They felt heavy against the pale, thinness of my wrists, and I swallowed hard. “Really? Handcuffs?” I asked, trying to keep the anxiety from rising in my voice. “There’s a compliment in there somewhere.”
Tommy grabbed me roughly, pulling me through the door. He guided me down a short hallway which came to an end at a crossroads. He took the left hallway, and we made our way into an elevator. It was quiet, barely making a sound as we moved up a few floors. I made a mental note that I was on the seventh floor.
The elevator was small; only a couple more people would have been able to fit inside with the two of us. It was mirrored, and I caught myself staring at my reflection. It had felt like ages since I had looked at myself in the mirror. I was smaller, thinner. My cheekbones stood out in my pale skin, something I was not used to. I had always had a dark olive tone, courtesy of my dad’s Italian background, but it was all but a memory. The scar across my face was pink and raised, so obviously marring the beauty that I once believed I had.
The shirt I was wearing billowed around me, tight across the chest, as usual, but much roomier everywhere else. I pressed a palm to my ribcage and winced at the hard bones I felt there. I felt so tired, and I looked it too.
The elevator doors slid open almost silently, and Tommy directed me down another few hallways before sliding a thin black card, credit card sized, through a slot, taking us into a small room. It was simply furnished; there was a wooden table in the middle, with sturdy chairs placed around it. A bookshelf was in the corner, stocked full of books, though I could not see the titles from where I stood. There was also a flat screen TV. I stared at it for a moment wondering what would happen if I turned it on. Surely, there were no television stations left to broadcast anything.
Tommy forced me into a chair, and I started to glare up at him when he leaned over and removed the handcuffs from my wrists. I rubbed them, feeling the absence, and sat back in the chair. I watched as he went over to a panel on the wall, something I had missed before, and pressed a few selections on the screen before turning and walking out of the room. He spared not a single glance back at me.
I sighed, pressing my palms tight against my eyes. I wanted to lie across the smooth cold surface of the table, fall asleep and possibly never wake up. The books that were sitting neatly on the shelves seemed to be calling my name, but I couldn’t muster up the energy to get up and look. I scanned the ceiling for the familiar black globe that told me they were watching and wasn’t shocked. I had no doubt that there was someone watching my every move. I leaned back in my chair, feeling like I was being put through some sort of test.