Chapter 8 Stave or Submit
Lila POV
Her voice gave me strength not the two-week-old loaf of bread, not the foul vinegar-water. And if hearing her voice wasn't enough, the fact that the bread sat beside a human finger was reason enough for me not to eat.
No. I wouldn't eat. Nico wanted me physically strong so he could torture me and drag out his revenge.
I'd be strong, alright but not in the way he expected. If I wanted to win this war, I needed to fight him with his own weapon. Me.
I leaned back in the chair, watching lila on the thirty-two inch monitor. I had a state of the art security system installed once my mind was made up about what I wanted to do. Wanted...needed...had no fucking choice.Same damn thing.
Nico POV
It's been hours since she tore up the bread and placed it with the finger in the gift box. I had to admit, I did not think she would have the guts to go near that finger, let alone pick it up. But yet again, Lila managed to surprise me by proving me wrong.
After placing the box in front of the door she got onto the bed and hadn't moved since. She just sat there against the headboard with her legs pulled up, leaning her head back, or on her arms. She didn't even cry anymore, and I noticed that her body had stopped shaking.
The entire time I watched her I kept on wondering if I had been wrong about her. When I put this plan in motion, I thought for sure I had this woman all figured out. She was the creative type who easily lost herself to the depths of her mind. For months I had her followed, and all she did was work at the art studio by day, and bury herself in a bottle of scotch at night while her mind took her to places that involved colors, and paint, and everything bizarre. There were a few nights she spent with friends, only having a drink or two. But when she got home she cracked open the bottle and consumed her weight in alcohol. From where I stood, she already seemed broken, which was supposed to make my job real easy.
But maybe I was wrong. More time went by. Every now and then she would glance at the box in front of the door, but then look away.
She had to be hungry. She hadn't eaten in days. All she had was the vinegar-water she licked up from the floor.
God, that was a show to witness, seeing her on her hands and knees licking up every drop she could find like a thirsty little kitten. While I watched her on the monitor, I found myself wanting to be inside that room, to hear the sound of her tongue lapping up every drop, to hear her moan as the liquid coated her dry throat. The twisted son of a bitch in me even got hard watching her crawl around like a pet. My cock swelled, the monster roared, and my blackened soul wanted so much more. I wanted to see her sit at my feet. I wanted to hear her sweet whimpers as I stroked my fingers through her hair, brushing my hand along her naked shoulders. I would touch her, caress her...hurt her until finally she would beg me to give her the release her body craved.
I shifted in my seat, rubbing against the painful hardness in my pants. What the fuck was I doing, sitting around having twisted fantasies about the woman who was the epitome of everything fucking evil in my life?
Pushing back the lustful thoughts that had no place in my mind in the first place, I continued to watch her, study her, to try and figure out who the hell she really was.
It's amazing what the human instinct for survival would make you do, yet she denied herself food. Why? If her modus operandi was to starve herself to death before I had the chance to take her life, why would she drink the vinegar-water? Why would she crawl on the floor like a pet in search of more water, but wouldn't eat?
I tried to wrap my head around it, to figure out what was going on inside her mind. This was, after all, about to become the mother of all mind-fuck games. For hours I watched her, but couldn't figure it out. Until she gave one more glance toward the box...and it hit me. When I was in there earlier, I didn't tell her to drink the water. I told her to eat. I demanded her to eat. That was it. She was defying me, showing me one giant 'fuck you' by not doing what I had specifically told her to do.
Motherfucker.
I smiled. The little pet I caught seemed to be a fighter after all. I had indeed underestimated her. Lucky for me, unlucky for her, I loved a challenge, thrived on it. It made me push my limits, made me stronger, gave me power.
With the press of a button on the keyboard in front of me, the lights in her room went off, casting her in complete darkness, so dark that she wouldn't even be able to see her hand in front of her face. But I could see her. With the night vision camera I could see her small frame huddling on the bed as she pushed her face deeper into her arms and legs.
The little pet wanted to play...so let's play.