Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
The rattling of the key, the swinging open of the gate—all things that were morning signs. What did I know? There was no sunlight down here or a clock. I had no clue if he was bringing me water in the morning or in the middle of the night. Heck, he could be stopping by at lunch every day.
The flashlight looked like it was coming from his phone this time. I waited quietly, wondering what news he would bring me now. I only heard one set of footsteps, so I knew my brother hadn’t shown up to save me. Not that he’d be saving me alone. Oz would have him locked up down here with me. Doing much worse things to him from the way he had talked.
I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to get that image out of my head. When you spent the majority of your life protecting someone, it was hard to navigate a situation where you were powerless to help them.
If Perry had done this, then why? He hated breaking rules, and this was one of those ultimate rules you did not break. Piss off the United States government and psychos who would lock your sister up and starve her to death.
Oz appeared inside the glow of his phone light. I studied him to see he had a large bottle of water in one hand and a plate of food. If I’d had the energy, I might have jumped up and tried to tackle him for it. I didn’t care what it was. I hated carrots, but I’d even take a bag of those at the moment.
As he drew closer to me, I began to stiffen and press my back against the wall. What was he going to do? Had my time run out?
He stopped in front of me and bent his knees as he lowered himself to the ground, then placed the food and the water in front of me. My eyes immediately dropped to the items. Bacon, eggs, two slices of toast, and some fresh berries filled the plate. My mouth instantly watered as my stomach made loud noises. I snatched up both slices of bacon and shoved one in my mouth in case he was teasing me. I was getting a bite before it was taken from me.
“Not so fast. You’ll get sick,” his deep voice said.
Those eyes of his met mine, and there was some concern there—or I was hallucinating from dehydration, starvation, and little sleep.
I chewed quickly and swallowed.
“Are you gonna take it away from me?” I asked.
He shook his head, then stood back up.
The relief was so powerful that I wanted to weep. Picking up a strawberry, I began to eat it, not taking my eyes off Oz as he reached for the lantern and turned it on. Then, he walked over and took the chair, pulling it a few feet in front of me before sitting down.
Before I ate the other piece of bacon, I decided I needed water. Grabbing the bottle, I opened it and took a drink. The first long gulp I had allowed myself since realizing the tiny bottle was all I would get each day. God, nothing had ever felt as good as the cold liquid coating my throat.
“Slow down on the water, too, or it’ll come back up. Your stomach has shrunk from not eating,” Oz stated.
In theory, I knew this, but I was terrified that this was going to disappear at any moment, and I wanted to get all I could before that happened. But throwing up down here and being left to smell it would be an unpleasant outcome.
I took a piece of toast. “I know all about that, trust me,” I told him before breaking some off with my teeth, unable to hide the small moan as the warm, buttered bread met my tongue.
“You get starved often?” he replied.
I finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s been years, but yeah. There were times in my childhood I went without. Then, when I was given food, I ate it quickly and too much of it, only for it to come right back up,” I explained before taking the fork to scoop up some of the scrambled eggs.
“Why did you go without food as a kid?” he asked.
I didn’t exactly want to chat. I had food to eat, but if I had to stop and answer his questions, then perhaps that would slow me down. It also wouldn’t hurt to talk some. If I told him truthfully what I knew, then he might bring me more food and water.
“We had an alcoholic mother,” I started. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been around someone who is a severe alcoholic, but all they care about is the liquor. Our money went to it. She couldn’t hold down a job because of it. She went missing for days, often on a binge with some man who supplied her with it. Until I could get a job, it was up to me to make sure my brother ate. When we didn’t have much, then that meant I went without.”