Chapter 42 Animal

Chapter 42 Animal
"Malcolm? What's going on?" I said, my whole body trembling.
"You want to act like an animal? Fine! You'll be treated as one," said Malcolm.
He then snapped his fingers and his staff got to work. One took all of my clothes and carried them out of the room while two more started mopping up the mess I'd made when I peed in the corner.
When they were done, they carried in a large porcelain pot with a lid and set it down on the floor while another member of his staff placed two bottles of water on the dresser.
"I... I don't understand," I said.
"Remove your dress," said Malcolm, his face impassive as he looked at me.
"W-what? Please, Malcolm! I'm sorry, okay? It wasn't my fault," I said.
"Remove your dress now," said Malcolm, his voice cold and firm. "Do not make me order my staff to remove it for you."
My mind was racing so fast that I could scarcely think straight, but I could sense the storm cloud of wrath inside of him, so I reluctantly pulled off my dress and handed it to one of his staff.
"Do you know what separates us from the animals?" said Malcolm. "It's our ability to think. Use this time wisely because you will not be getting a second chance."
"Please, Malcolm! I'll do anything!" I cried out, feeling utterly humiliated as I stood there naked in front of everyone.
But Malcolm said nothing. He turned and walked out of my room, followed by his staff. A moment later, I heard a key turn in the lock, and then I was left all alone.
I was in a complete state of shock about what had just happened. Now I truly was his prisoner, being kept locked up in a tiny cell with nothing but a bed, a dresser, and that weird porcelain thing. At first, I just ignored it, but with literally nothing else to do, I eventually walked over to it to examine it more closely.
The lid was heavy, and the craftsmanship was excellent. Malcolm had taken everything away from me, even my clothes, so why would he leave me such an expensive thing?
It was very odd. And why had they put it on the floor? I considered moving it over to the dresser, but it was really heavy, and I was too distraught to think about rearranging furniture.
Truly, that was one of the lowest moments of my life. I wanted to go to sleep and just pray for my confinement to be over, but the problem was that I had already gotten a good night's sleep. What I wanted was a nice breakfast and then go talk to my mother to catch up with her about the honeymoon.
My mother! Yes! Eventually, she would have to notice that I was missing and come look for me. She was Malcolm's new wife. Surely he wouldn't prevent her from seeing her own daughter, would he? That didn't seem possible. All I had to do was just hang on and wait for my mother to rescue me.
But the truth is that I had no idea when that might be. My mother had been pretty tired the night before, so she might sleep in until the afternoon. After that, she might go for a leisurely lunch and then who knows? Maybe a drive into town to do some shopping or a million other things. And if she inquired about me, Malcolm could just say I went to go visit a friend or something.
I had to prepare myself to wait for quite a while before my mother figured out something was wrong. But what was I going to do in the interim? I didn't have the strength or daring to try and smash the window. I had no clue how to pick a lock, so I was well and truly stuck in that room with absolutely nothing to do.
If Malcolm had left me with my phone, I might've been all right. The internet is perfect when you want to kill some time, but I didn't even have a TV to watch or a book to read or a magazine to flip through. All I had were four blank walls and nothing to see out of the window except for an expanse of green grass stretching to the horizon.
It was miserable, and even without a clock, it felt like every second was an eternity. Finally, my eyes alighted on the water bottles and went over and took a sip. The water tasted normal, which was a relief. But then I realized that he'd given the water to me to make sure I wouldn't die of dehydration. That was ominous because it meant I might be in there a while.
After I drank a little water, I began pacing around the room looking for hidden cameras. Malcolm must've had some way to spy on me if he'd discovered that I'd been with Jack. I examined every inch of the wall as well as the bed frame, but I saw nothing unusual.
How small did they make cameras these days? Probably really small. Looking up at the ceiling, I couldn't see anything there either, but I figured that's where they had to be, far out of my reach so I couldn't disable them.
"Malcolm? I know you're listening," I said, looking up at the corner of the ceiling with a good view of the bed. "Please, I'm sorry, okay? I made a mistake. I admit it! But please let me out so we can talk things through."
I waited, but there was no sign of anyone coming to let me out. That's when I began to grow desperate.
"Please, God! Malcolm, I am begging you!" I shouted. "I'm going to go crazy in here all by myself. Is that what you want? I thought you said you wanted what's best for me. Well, this isn't best for me... or the baby!"
Yes, that was my secret weapon - the baby! Malcolm would never risk anything happening to his child. But then I realized that, even if I was really pregnant, the child was untouchable.
There was absolutely nothing sharp in the room I could use to injure myself and no chemicals I could mix up and swallow. As long as he supplied me with food and water, it'd be months before I'd even begin to show.
Once again I turned my face up to the ceiling. "I'll do anything you want, just please let me out! I'm serious. I really will lose my mind if I can't get out of here. I've never been good being by myself. If you love me even a little, let me out of here!"
But there was no response, and I began to doubt whether there even was a hidden camera up there.
Over the next few days or weeks, I began to doubt a lot of things, including my sanity. On that first terrible day, I eventually figured out what the porcelain pot was for, but other than that, it was a neverending torture.
Sometimes I laughed to myself. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I screamed and yelled. Nothing made a difference.
I spent eons staring out the window, praying that someone would come by so I could bang on the glass and try to get their attention. I don't know if Malcolm told his staff to avoid that area or if his estate was really large, but I never saw a single person. Every once in a while, I'd see a bird fly by, and that was the most exciting event of my day.
The rest of the time I slowly started going mad. I went from talking and yelling at the hidden camera to muttering to myself, singing half-forgotten snatches of songs I once loved or advertising jingles. Little fragments of poems I'd memorized at school came out of nowhere, making me regret I hadn't paid more attention.
I began recalling conversations I'd had with friends, some of them from years ago, or quips I'd overheard at the store or lines from a movie or TV show. At times, I couldn't tell whether I was hearing voices inside my head or whether it was me speaking them aloud. All I knew was that the walls started closing in, the bedroom slowly becoming smaller and smaller until there was scarcely space for me to turn around.
At some point, well after I had been locked up for more than 24 hours, the door opened and someone shoved a tray inside before I could react. The smell of the food was so overpowering that I leaped out of bed and went running over.
It was a large bowl filled with steaming vegetables and rice. There was no silverware, but I didn't care, shoveling the food into my mouth as fast as I could with my hands until it was gone. And then I licked the bowl clean.
Malcolm had accused me of being an animal, but it was his fault that I became one.
I lost all ability to speak or think coherently. My hair became stringy and matted, and without any way to wash myself, I soon began to stink. I slept inches away from a pot close to overflowing with my own waste, and I became so hungry that I ate right off the floor whenever the staff deigned to bring me food.
My appearance began to frighten me so badly that I snatched the mirror off the wall and threw it to the ground. A part of me wanted to use one of the broken shards to slit my wrists and bring my suffering to an end, but it turned out to be made out of some weird unbreakable plastic, so I shoved it underneath the bed so I'd never have to look at it again.
When my words began to fail me, I started growling and barking like a dog. That's what he'd called me, right? So I might as well deliver. I took to scrambling around on my hands and knees and then howling up at the ceiling. I even started peeing in the porcelain pot like a dog, squatting over it exactly like I'd seen female dogs do.
That's what I was doing when I heard the key turn in the lock. Thinking it was an early delivery of food, I let out a growl and sprang to the door, but I was stopped in my tracks when I looked up and saw it was Malcolm.