/6:39 P.M./
Rita lay awake huddled knees to her chest on the floor in the room she had been jailed in more than three hours ago, shivering and trembling in fear. She did not even know where she was and although she knew she had ridden here in a car, she could not for the life of her remember how they had gotten to this place. Her sweater and scarf lay on the floor beside her both filled with tears, sweat and snot.
That moment in the car when she had recognized him had been one of the worst moments of her entire life. She vaguely remembered the first time she had seen him, that time she had been drunk she guessed. But that night in her car, she remembered clearly. And everytime she relived that memory she felt like clawing at her skin, crying and sinking into the earth.
The door unlocked with a click and she scrambled to stand up before the door opened. Kalzaar or whoever he really was walked into the room with a tray in one hand and a white plastic bag in the other. She watched his every move and he knew it. He kept the plastic bag beside the drawer and the tray on top of the table. She could smell the aroma of fresh porridge and her stomach growled. She ignored it and made a dash for the unlocked door.
She collided with what felt like concrete wall. A pain she had had two hours worth of familiarizing. Dark mist bound her arms to her sides and for the tenth time that day giving her no room to struggle but it did not stop her from trying to. His fingers lifted her chin to look into his lavender eyes. Eyes she once and still found beautiful but now it had a different meaning to her, a different feeling attached. She associated them with fear and helplessness.
She tore her chin from his hands and looked at him with hatred. “Do not be like that. I brought you some food–”
“I don't want it.” she told him, cutting him off.
He brought his face close to hers and she held her breath. “You will have to accept it. At the very least, the food. You still have your medicines to take.” he stated taking his face away.
Rita wanted to cover herself with her hands, every minute with this man made her feel completely exposed. “Just leave me alone!” she yelled in his face.
“I know. How about we start this right?” he sang. It was as if he had not heard a word she just said.
“That ship has sailed a long time ago.” she snarked, leaning away from him.
He smiled and caressed her cheek with his fingers. “But we can still try and catch it.” he insisted. The smile on his face not at all matching the situation at all. Maybe in his head it did. And that made her feel even worse.
He locked the door from outside and Rita felt her heart beat go faster. It went up a notch when levitated her feet off the ground. It dropped into her stomach when she saw where he planned on keeping her. She tried struggling again but the mist did not budge.
He chuckled. “Get your head out of the gutter. I just want us to talk. I am not going to do anything. Yet.”
That last part encouraged her to keep struggling. Textbook common sense. Do not trust a demon. Especially one as crazy as the one in front of her. But she was not going to say that to his face.
He dropped her onto the bed gently and she moved to get off of it. But he levitated her back onto it again and bound her legs in more dark mist.
“You need to get actually comfortable for this one.” he explained, running his eyes up and down her body.
She had her arms in front of her now. No longer attached to her sides, her palms pressing against the bed. Her feet were bound in a kneeling position. What part in his insane mind saw this position as comfortable! And she did not like the look he was giving her or the one in his eyes. “Unbind me and then I'll be comfortable.”
He looked at her with a no way not going to happen expression on his face. “We both know that you will just run off the bed and stay on the floor. And you do not need the cold.”
“I'll be fine.” she retorted, trying to move out of the unbearable position.
“No, you will not and I refuse to take any chances.” he remarked.
He got the tray from the top of the drawer and brought it to the bed. He set it in front of her. The tray held one bowl of porridge garnished with nuts and berries, a bottle of water and a bottle of her medicine.
“My name, my real name is Sakaer. Not Kalzaar.” he started and changing her into a more comfortable position with her back to the headboard, her arms stretched out on either side of her and her legs folded. He came closer to her with the tray. He took the the bowl in his hand, took a spoon of the porridge and put it to her lips.
Rita did not know what his problem was but she was not taking anything from his hands, she was keeping her mouth closed. And no amount of force or pleading would get her to op–her mouth opened itself against her will and Sakaer put the spoon in, she closed her mouth around it and he pulled the spoon away.
She watched and felt in shock and horror as she chewed and swallowed. He gave her a satisfied smile.
“I am a thousand and forty years of age. And I was born in Corinth, Greece.” he continued, spooning more porridge and bringing it to her lips. Her mouth happily took it, again against her will.
A thousand and forty years old! Not only was he sick, he was also a pedophile to anyone below eight hundred years old!
She noticed he said born, not created or formed. “You were turned?” she asked after her mouth and throat delivered the mouthful of porridge to her stomach.
He looked at her and delivered another spoon to her mouth. And no matter how hard she tried, her mouth still opened and accepted it. He gave a small laugh at her expressions, then the laugh turned bitter. “Yes, I was turned one thousand and three years ago by Carmilla Daeodina after I had thought i lost everything.”
Thought I lost everything? What did he mean?
“You once asked me what I really did for a living.” he said, delivering a spoon to her mouth. “I do the occasional odd job here and there like heavy lifting or software designing but my real occupation. My real job is assassination.”
Rita almost choked on the porridge in her mouth and stared wide eyed at him. Fear and shock biting into her whole body like frost on exposed skin. He looked back at her with unaffected eyes, completely unphased by his own admission.