Page 67 of Caged
“Here, drink water,” he insists, sitting next to me on the bed as he unscrews the top of a bottle. “I brought us lunch. When is the last time you ate?”
I shrug. “Maybe lunch yesterday.”
“Has this happened before?” he asks, concerned.
“Yeah, I have a low red blood cell count. I’ve been anemic my whole life.”
“You’re anemic?” he asks with shock. “And you didn’t think to tell me this in the three years we’ve known each other?”
“Sorry. Sometimes I forget I have this issue.”
“Jesus Christ, Monroe. For a second there, I literally thought I fucked you to death.”
I snort, spitting water all over my lap. “It wouldn’t be the worst way to die,” I laugh.
Kieren scoffs. “You have a twisted sense of humor, Monroe. I caught you when you fell, by the way. Barely, but I caught you.”
“Am I supposed to thank you?” I jest.
“Wouldn’t hurt, seeing as I stopped you from falling on your face and breaking your nose.”
“You like my face too much to let anything happen to it.”
I take a sip of water; the room now strangely quiet.
“How’s your dad?” I ask, changing the subject. “I heard you say‘father’and assumed you were speaking to him on the phone.”
Kieren scowls. “Oh, you heard that? What else did you hear?”
“That was it,” I lie.
He sighs, leaning back on his elbows. “Nothing. He’s fine, but all up in my shit, which is annoying as fuck.”
“Is he excited to see you?”
“I doubt it. You know we’ve never had a typical father-and-son relationship, and he’s not a very warm and fuzzy guy, even after what happened last summer.”
“Am I going home with you?”
I’ve known Kieren has planned to visit his parents in Connecticut over spring break for weeks, and yet he’s not once mentioned bringing me with him. Maybe the state of his father’s health remains too fragile to introduce someone new, but it feels odd given the amount of time we spend together, not to mention our years of history. The words he said to me in a drunken rage at his birthday dinner in New York City during winter break our freshman year continue to haunt me, and in the back of my mind, I suspect they still hold true.
“If you’re a good girl,” he says with a menacing smirk. “But you’ll have to earn it, puppy.”
I roll my eyes at him and slide off the bed to open the takeaway bag. Breakfast bagels, thank god. I need real sustenance.
“I’ll drive you to the sorority or your apartment to get clothes and anything else you need after we eat,” Kieren comments.
“Why?” I ask before biting into the overstuffed egg and cheese sandwich.
“Because you don’t have many things here.”
“That’s because I don’t live here,” I answer, covering my mouth with my hand as I chew.
“You’re my girlfriend, you should stay here. Besides, the thought of you not being here at night makes me spiral. I need you here for your safety.”
“For my safety?” I ask incredulously.
“Monroe, I don’t think you understand. When I said you were mine, I meant it in every sense of the word. Why wouldn’t you want to live with me? Is there someone else? Did you not mean it when you told me you loved me?”
