Chapter 10
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"Stop it."
Sasha muttered, Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it. Please stop. And then she raged again. She slammed her head into the blackened wall. BANG. BANG. BANG. The blood trickling down her forehead blinded her. Her ragged breathing was no different than when she collapsed, frothing at the mouth.
"Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!"
Alas, I'm so tired now. I've had enough. If this is your test, I can't pass it. Look at me. I'm just going to suffer through an eternity of doing stupid things. Now please let me go. Stop it. Please don't let me open my eyes again. Please. Please. Please.
Then she let go again.
Sasha opened her eyes. An ivory and gold ceiling.
Tears burst into her eyes. She begged, so desperately. So desperately. Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? Why…
"Hmph......"
Even through her teeth, her lips trembled. Her whole body shook.
"Wake up."
Sasha scrambled to her feet at the sound of the stranger's voice, forgetting that she was sobbing. Someone had entered the boringly unchanging scene of the room. The chair and table Sasha had thrown over were back in place, and there was even someone sitting at them.
He was flipping through a movie magazine, his gloves lying in a heap on the table. He folded the magazine and set it on the table, then stood up, hands in his pants pockets, and studied Sasha closely as she sat frozen in bed for a long moment. His gaze traveled from her red hair, over her eyes, nose, and mouth, down to the fresh bandages on her hands and the toes hidden under the covers, then back up to her eyes.
Sasha remembered him, because he was the last person she saw before she blacked out in the torture chamber. Sasha thought it might be the last thing she'd ever see, so clear was his image on her retina.
"Come with me."
He went to the bedroom door and waited for her to come out.
"Uh, where, where are you going?"
Instead of answering, he held up a key, the one she'd found among the food, his eyes calm and cruel as he shook it.
"Come on."
Then he cleared his throat, urging Sasha on. The aura he gave off was both frightening and unnerving. It was only when she refused his advances that the true nature of her fear was revealed. Sasha got out of bed and staggered over to him. When she was within a few feet of him, he strode briskly to the end of the hallway. Sasha followed and said.
"There's a wall there."
"I've been there. It's a wall."
He glanced behind him and replied numbly.
"Really?"
He walked to the far end of the hallway, not to the wall door, and slipped a key into the doorknob.
"That key is......"
The key was the key to the wall door.
Click. The sound of the lock being released.
Sasha looked up at him, despairing. The man spoke grimly.
"One door, one key. Boring idea."
"Come in."
His demeanor was homey. Was this place familiar because he'd been here so many times, or was he an actor playing everything?
"Who the hell are you?"
Frowning, Sasha was mesmerized by the delicacies on the huge table.
"Sit."
He pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. Sasha stood on the threshold, mouth agape, unable to take a seat. He took off his uniform blazer, draped it over the chair, and tugged at his collar.
"Sit down."
He pushed her chair a little closer to the table and returned to his seat, leaving her dumbfounded. Pushy and gentlemanly at the same time. What a bizarre combination. Sasha frowned and asked.
"What are you doing?"
The man glanced at her as he picked up his fork and knife.
"Eating."
He looked from side to side at the spread, trying to decide what to eat first.
"Eat, Sasha. You'd better eat, unless you want to starve to death."
He brought the thinly sliced veal over to his plate and sliced it with a knife as if to say, "Come on.” Sasha flinched.
"There's poison in the food. Someone poisoned it."
He laughed, as if he'd heard a funny joke.
"What's funny?"
"The food isn't poisoned. It's on your fingertips."
He stabbed his fork into the minced veal and slid it gracefully into his mouth. Sasha looked at her fingertips, which they had changed into clean, fresh bandages. Here? Then she looked up at him, who merely raised and lowered his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
"How did you..."
"If you had used a fork and knife, that wouldn't have happened, would it?"
He didn't seem inclined to answer the question. And it's a very nonchalant answer for a question that should have been stammered out in surprise and panic. The man knew everything. This was not a hell made by God, but a hell made by this man. Sasha's hands trembled.
"Why? Why did you put poison on my hands? Where am I? If you wanted to kill me, you could have left me alone. Why did you make me do it again and again?"
"I simply ask that you maintain the dignity a lady should have under all circumstances."
Dignity! Dignity, after you've reduced me to this state, after you've toyed with me every day of my life, after you've enjoyed your amusement, and now you utter such a noble word! Sasha couldn't help herself and threw her fork at him, but it didn't even graze him.
"Good, why don't you try eating with your hands again?"
Tears welled up in Sasha's big eyes again. She wanted to throw this prize down, but she couldn't, and she was dying of anger, so much so that it threatened to spill over into the corners of her eyes. If she got too angry, I would cry.
"Crying at the head of the table makes you lose your appetite."
He sighed, wiped his fork on a napkin, and set it down in front of him.
"Here."
He held out his hands.
"There's no poison on my hands."
He picked up a piece of bread, broke it in half, and popped it into his mouth.
"It's been four weeks since you’ve had any real food, and the drugs can only take you so far. Put something in your mouth and chew it."
"That's because you poisoned it! That's because you tried to kill me!"
"I never tried to kill you. If I did, you'd be dead already."
"I never said I wanted to live! I begged you to kill me over and over again!"
"Fork and knife."
"Why are you doing this? What are you doing this to me for?"
He rubbed his forehead with his hand. Sasha's barbs seemed to be getting a little tiresome.
"I won't explain anything if you don't eat at least a little. Fork and knife."
He emphasized once more, and Sasha picked up the knife. What the hell was with this nonchalance? Had he lost his mind? Was he kidding her? This was beyond ridiculous. What the hell did he think he was doing? What did he want with her?
He looked at Sasha's hand, which was trembling as if she were going to throw it away at any moment.
"Are you going to get anything?”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, stood up, and took a large chunk of steak with his fork, dumping it onto her plate.
"Here."
Her mouth watered as she looked at it. He was right. She had been starving all along. When she was full, she would collapse in a frothy heap and wake up with her belly ragged with hunger. Four weeks. She couldn’t believe she was held for so long, and she couldn’t think of anyone she cared about or remembered. Sister Aretha and Bobby. It was a vague longing, but not so clear that she could grasp it. It was because she had never left her heart anywhere. Her heart was empty.
"You don't expect me to feed you, do you?"
He asked, chewing his bread. Sasha still didn't know who he was, but he must be a higher rank than colonel, because he had tortured her. Yes. Major General then. Of course, there were many sane men in Dochen, but most of them were scary as monsters. Like that guy named Dieter. Scary like that madman, but this one was ambiguous, and that ambiguity was what was so bizarre.
Sasha glared at him as she picked up her fork and knife and cut into the meat, as if there was nothing to fear. As if there was nothing to be afraid of, she dipped her knife into the meat and popped it straight into her mouth.
What was it about him that made him seem so light in his actions, yet so heavy and sinister? Was it his well-combed platinum hair, or the aura of his immaculate uniform? Or...... Sasha popped a small piece of meat into her mouth and chewed it thoroughly. Then, without thinking, she took another chunk, and another, and another.
"Where am I? You told me you’d answer when I ate."
"This is a fortress, Sasha. You're still my prisoner, still in my prison."
A prison? This was it? Sasha looked around at the elegant chandeliers and fine marble. What a luxurious prison. Still a fortress must mean she was still in the same place she came from. Only the surroundings had changed a bit.
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