Free Prisoned: A Dark Twisted Erotic Standalone by Marni Mann

It wasn’t hunger. That was suddenly gone.
    I waited a few seconds and turned toward Garin. “What did he say?”
    He ground his teeth together, the blacks of his eyes as venomous as Beard’s had been.
    “Garin?”
    “You’ll get what he gives you.”
    If that was all he’d said, Garin wouldn’t be grinding his teeth. He wouldn’t be wringing his hands together and staring at the door like he was going to beat his way through it.
    “What else did he say, Garin?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    I stood up, holding my stomach as I looked down at him. “Yes, it does matter. You can’t protect me in here, so at least you can be honest. Don’t shelter me. I can handle the truth.”
    He slowly glanced up. The anger and rage replaced with something else. I almost gasped when I realized what it was.
    Fear.
    “He said you’ll get what he gives you…and then you’re going to die.”
    It felt like everything had dropped from my body. Not just my hunger. That was long gone. But my questions, my voice, my emotions, my hope—those were gone, too.
    Everything was gone.
    I heard Garin behind me. He was moving the trays, probably to the far wall, placing them next to each other like he was setting a goddamn table.
    “Come over here, and eat.”
    I didn’t turn around to face him. I didn’t move. My feet were paralyzed, my knees shaking so badly that they weren’t going to hold me up for much longer. When I opened my mouth, my throat convulsed, and tears poured from my eyes. It was the first time I’d cried since I’d woken up in here. The first time I didn’t actually believe I would get out.
    His arms circled my waist, and he pulled my back against his chest. “They’re not going to kill you. They need you. That’s why you’re in here.”
    “But…” It was the only word I could muster through the sobs.
    “If you don’t eat, you won’t have the energy to fight. We need our energy, Kyle. We need to take everything they’re willing to give us and figure out how to get out of here.”
    “I’m not getting out of here.” My voice was becoming louder, and I didn’t know why. None of this was his fault, but he was the only one in here who I could blame. “You’re the one who told me what he said. You’re the one who told me I was going to die. You can’t honestly believe I’m going to get out of here, Garin.”
    I didn’t wait for him to speak. I pushed my way out of his grip and moved to the other side of the cell, squeezing into the small space between the toilet and sink. I tucked my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and rocked.
    Relax, Kyle.
    I had no breath. I had no feeling. I had numbness. I had an entire pit of emptiness.
    And I had tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.
    “I’m going to give you a minute to sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Then, I’m going to pick you up, set you over here, and force food down your throat.” He sat at the mock table, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing his shiny shoes. “The minute starts now.”

    “Do you think it’s poisoned?” I asked him, holding the tray onto my lap, staring at the mountain of slop that was in the middle of it. It had cooled and flattened a bit since my pity party—or whatever Garin had called my mini breakdown.
    “No.” He dipped his finger into the sauce and stuck it into his mouth. “It’s not that bad…as long as salt and metal are flavors you don’t mind.”
    The tray was broken into three small compartments, similar to the ones they used in the lunchroom at school. Beard didn’t give us any silverware, so I waded through it with my fingers. The mountain was actually a pile of shredded beef with thick rectangular noodles smothered in a brown sauce. The next compartment held a roll. The outsides were hard and a little moldy. Once I broke it open, the middle was actually quite soft. Four canned peaches were in the final compartment, sitting in a juice that was much redder than