Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
He pushes me in the direction of the kitchen and I picture it all in my mind’s eye as I go down the hallway, feeling for the little dinette table that’s been in the corner for my whole life, then take a seat. It stayed behind when I had the furniture moved out because it was a throwaway piece and the workers were using it for paint cans and stuff. The chairs stayed too. Almost everything else was packed up and put in the barn until the reno is done.
Everything except my childhood bedroom in the attic. It’s exactly as it was the day I left for college. Not one thing has been removed or replaced. Keeping one’s childhood bedroom intact after leaving for college is a long-standing tradition in my family.
When my mother left for college, the door to her attic bedroom on the fourth floor was closed and everything remained the same until I was born and old enough to move upstairs. I was eight. It was my birthday present that year, along with a pony. And opening that door was like falling into a time capsule. It was filled with things from the Seventies and Eighties. A record player—or hi-fi, I think they called them. She had stacks of albums. All classic rock like the Doors, and Led Zeppelin, and Ozzy.
My mother, listening to Ozzy! I didn’t understand how crazy that was back then, but now… I just have to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
I blow out a breath and wave my hand in the air, dismissing the memory. “Nothing. I was just thinking about the past. That’s all. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“It must’ve been a pretty good memory.”
“It was.” There’s a silence after I say this and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s staring at me. I feel his gaze like it’s heat. “What? Why are you looking at me?”
I hear him sighing, then the sound of rummaging through a bag or something. Another second later, and then he’s unwrapping something.
“What flavor is it?” I ask.
“Does it matter?”
“Well, of course it matters. I won’t turn it down no matter what it is, but yes, it matters.”
He pauses here, like he’s reading the label. “It’s chicken and noodles in sauce.”
“Oh, that one’s good. What about the sides?”
He laughs. And it throws me a little because I think it’s a real one. Like he’s smiling too. “What do you know about MRE sides?”
“My best Disciple friend, Lowyn, she runs an antique store. It’s kinda famous now, but back when she first started, she used to buy storage units sight unseen and she got one that was filled with boxes of MRE’s. We tried them all.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Mmmm. Eight years, maybe?”
“Which flavor was your favorite?”
“Turkey, gravy, and potatoes. Hands down the best. Like no competition.”
He sighs here. “Yeah, that’s a good one. They’re hard to come by though.”
“Tell me about it. Lowyn had seven cases of that one. Like someone was hoarding Thanksgiving dinner and was planning on making a fortune one day. There was a bidding war over them.”
“That’s funny.” But he doesn’t laugh, and I don’t think he’s smiling, either. “Anyway. It comes with…” He’s taking things out of the package now. “Applesauce, crackers, peanut butter, and candy. Plus a drink. Wanna call dibs?”
I smile. “You don’t mind?”
“It’s just a stupid MRE.”
“Fine. Don’t be excited. I’ll take the applesauce and the candy. If you’re not picky, you can have the crackers and peanut butter.”
“Did she make a lot of money?”
“What?”
“Your friend who found the MRE’s. How much did the cache go for?”
“Oh. I have no idea. I never thought about that stuff again until just now.”
He goes quiet after that, getting things out of the package and setting up the heating pouch. I don’t have anything else to say, and when he doesn’t say anything either, it gets awkward quick.
But once he tears open the main meal package, my mouth starts watering from the smell. “Oh, I’m so hungry. It’s been days.”
He scoffs, but says, “Open up.”
“What?”
“You want food, right? Open your mouth.”
“I can feed myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”
“There’s only one fork, Clover. And while I don’t care if you eat the shitty applesauce or the crap candy, you’re not getting my half of the chicken and noodles. So if you want me to share, open your mouth.”
He gets to tie me up, blindfold me, watch me pee, and now I am to be spoon-fed?
It’s so humiliating. I’m glad I can’t see his smug face right now. That way, when he leaves and I’m still alive, I will never have to picture it in my nightmares.
“Do you want it or not?”
“I do.” Then I sigh and open my mouth.
CHAPTER 6 - RIGGS
Clover’s blindfold doesn’t cover her whole face like it did yesterday so I can see her mouth just fine when she opens it. Her lips are very dry, but they’ve got a nice shape. I can’t see her properly, of course, but I can tell that she’s pretty and she is one of those women who cares a lot about her presentation. Nice dress, nice shoes, fancy hair and nails.