Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
It is such a waste, but who am I to talk? I did the same thing this morning when I left the bathroom and discovered a plate stacked high with pancakes, butter, maple syrup, and a generous serving of blueberries on one side. The smell alone was so enticing my resolve almost buckled, but I held on strong, mindful I am no better than the women living off scraps in the lower level of the ship.
I refuse to eat until they do.
We are currently on day three of a hunger strike.
When my stomach grumbles for the second time, I raise my eyes to make sure no one is subjected to its noisy protests. I don’t understand its issue. It ate more my first night here than I have in my life. It should be content for a few more days, but instead, it’s acting like I’m about to die of malnutrition.
My throat works through a hard swallow when I lock on Ghost’s watch across the room. He is eyeing me like a hawk, conscious I’d give anything to bundle up the wasted food and deliver it to the women downstairs but aware I’ll never not follow the rules.
I am a sheep, and I’ve never felt more ashamed.
It hurts scrapping the unnamed man’s food into the bin Annika wheels into the dining room so we can clear away the mess—both physically and emotionally.
“Is that it?” Annika asks, her eyes scanning the room.
I nod. “Only Ghost’s plate to go.” Like a coward without a spine, I shift my eyes to hers. “Are you right to get that?”
“Um…” She looks terrified. “Sure.”
Her smile is fake, but I race out of the dining room like my backside is on fire.
My reprieve lasts for barely a minute. Just like he snuck into our room the last three nights, Ghost enters the kitchen, slams down his untouched plate in front of me, then dips down low so we lock eyes.
On closer inspection, I realize his plate isn’t food he loaded himself. It is the dish I dumped into the bin in the hallway outside our room this morning. The meal I believe he had delivered for me.
While staring at me with flaring nostrils and narrowed eyes, Ghost doesn’t speak a word. Everything is relayed by his eyes—his anger, his frustration, and perhaps even his disappointment about my cowardly ways.
When I chicken out first, his glare too hot to continue staring at without the fear of being burned, he pinches my chin and guides my eyes back to him. “Did I say you could move?” Even though everyone in the kitchen appears busy, I feel their eyes on us. “Answer me, маленький ягненок. Did I give you permission to look away?”
“No—”
“Then why did you?”
My voice is shaky when I reply, “Because you scare me,” I confess before I can stop myself. “I don’t know what you want from me. I was taught to obey, but you seem to want the opposite.”
My brows furrow in confusion when he murmurs, “Taught to obey who?”
“My owner.”
I can’t hide my bewilderment when he whispers, “And who is that, маленький ягненок?”
“Y-you,” I reply, stating the obvious.
I don’t know which way is up when he scoffs. “But that’s not the right order, is it, my queen?”
His hold is cruel, demoralizing, and full of anger, but I have no clue what I’ve done to make him so mad. I wasted food by the bucketloads, was in the kitchen before anyone else the past three mornings, and I make sure I stay on my side of our bed.
I’ve done everything he has asked of me, yet he still seems to hate me.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” I whisper when the tension reaches breaking point.
The torment in his voice sends a chill down my spine. “The one thing I want, you can’t give me.” He releases me from his hold as if it was nothing before shifting on his feet to face Vera. “Scrap today’s menu and start again. It appears as if it isn’t appetizing enough for anyone to eat.”
“But, sir, we will have too many leftovers.”
It only takes one sideways glare for Vera to back down.
“Very well, but what shall we do with all this food?” She fans her hands across the heating stations keeping the pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns warm.
My dry throat suddenly returns when Ghost shifts his eyes to me and says, “I’m sure you can find someone hungry enough to accept it.”
My entrance into my room tonight is done in silence. There are no grumbled comments or demands for me to remove my clothing. My room is empty, and despite loathing silence for as long as I’ve been captive, I’ll take it over the sobs and whimpers I usually hear.
Tonight, the boat is silent since everyone’s stomachs are too full to entice anything more than sleep.