Page 4 of Beg for Death
"Let's try this again." His voice was tight as if he was over our interaction already. "Give me solid answers, not ones that sound like a question. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
A small smile appeared on his face that ebbed some of the anxiety that was clawing up my throat.
Don’t think, just do.
"Good. Now think about this before you answer. Three years ago, did your father talk about someone special?"
Three years ago?
My head tilted to the side as I tried to remember back then. I'd been home, attending a community college before I transferred to a university. Staying home had been my only option, which was why, in the end, I'd worked my ass off to get a full scholarship in order to leave. Sharing a place with someone who didn't want to acknowledge my existence beyond special occasions was mentally draining.
"No." The only thing my father and I shared was blood, and at times, even that felt thin.
The man hummed, his lips downcast in a frown.
Did I answer wrong? My anxiety was back, gnawing at my insides. "Sorry."
He stared at me for a long while before speaking again. "You haven't gone home in the last month or so. When do you normally visit?"
"If I don't take summer courses I go back, but I haven't been back since last year."
The man looked puzzled before he pushed off the wall. "Then you have no idea why you're here do you?"
"No." I bit down on the meaty part of my cheek. The pain was grounding as I waited on bated breath for him to tell me.
"Good." He turned and headed for the door.
Panic riddled my body with icy chills. "Wait." I was up on my knees on the bed, ready to get down, but too afraid to actually get up again. "Who are you?"
The man smiled at me like he was having the time of his life. "That's a good question." He chuckled; it sounded dark and twisted. "The bathroom is right over there." He pointed in some general direction, but I was still stuck on the fact I had no idea what I was doing there. "This is where you'll be staying for now."
"Stay?” No, that couldn’t be right. “Why?" My voice broke. "Why am I here?"
He turned fully to me, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "It’s none of your business."
What the fuck does that mean?
All the questions flooded into my head and not a single one came out of my mouth. My chest felt heavy with an unbearable weight as he stepped out of the room and down the hall. I should follow, and yet my body wouldn't move.
"Someone is going to come save me," I whispered in defiance.
I didn't have many friends, but I'd recently met a really good one. As the night played out in my head, I recalled that I was supposed to be meeting him last night. Hopefully when I hadn'tshown, he’d called the police. If not then I was fucked. If this had something to do with my dad then maybe he would come for me.
That thought felt less hopeful than me escaping on my own.
What the hell am I supposed to do? Just when I thought I'd gotten a grasp on my life, it was now placed in the hands of a psycho.
Chapter Three
Ezra
Iwatched him as he moved around the room. For the third day in a row, he mumbled quietly under his breath and paced to the bathroom, back to the bed, and began again. His feet shuffled against the dusty floorboards, and his shoulders were hunched. He looked like the perfect victim. So soft, stupid, and scared. Prey. He looked like prey.
My tongue dragged over my bottom lip as I stared. He stopped, glanced at me out the corner of his eye, and then kept walking. The only thing he was accomplishing was wearing himself out. I leaned in the open doorway, arms crossed over my chest.
"Enough," I said. "Sit down."
