Lena hesitated a moment, and decided it was better to speak up. She didn’t think that Mark really wanted to hurt her, so she said, "I'm hungry."
He looked at her, and said, "I suppose you are. I've eaten twice since the last time you ate, and I don't think you finished your lunch yesterday." There was a long pause, and then Mark asked, "So, what would you be willing to do for a meal, now?"
Lena crossed her arms, and glared at him in silence. Mark laughed, "I guess that means you haven't fallen in love with me, yet. That's okay; you will. In the meantime, though, I think we need to keep your strength up. Come on, let's go in the kitchen." He led her down the hall the other way, and turned into the third door on the right. In the kitchen, Mark got out lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, garbanzo beans, mushrooms, and some Pollock. "Is fish and salad okay with you?"
Lena nodded. Mark got out a knife and a frying pan. He handed her the knife, sprayed the pan with non-stick spray, and then started frying the fish. Lena started making some salad, and then paused. "Am I making salad for one or two?"
"I'm okay," Mark said, "On second thought, go ahead and make two salads. I don't want you to have to eat alone."
Lena's mind began to work. Mark had said that his mother would be out of the country for months, and yet, he had felt the need to keep Lena tied up in the basement. Obviously he was afraid that somebody would come by, but whom? Then again, here she was in the kitchen, so maybe whoever it was had already come and gone. Would they be back? She had to assume not any time soon, but, maybe later today, or tomorrow. Mark would probably try to keep her from figuring out who it was, and what their schedule would be. She looked at the knife in her hand, and wondered if she had a chance to plunge it into him before he shot her. She remembered hearing the expression, "Hot lead faster than cold steel." and decided against trying anything. He had his back to her, but she probably didn't really have much chance to sneak up behind him. Poking around in the cabinets, she found some salad bowls, and started putting chopped lettuce into them, followed by sliced tomatoes, etc. She briefly considered hiding the knife on her person, but Mark might notice it missing. She set out the two bowls of salad and waited for the fish to be ready. After a few minutes, Mark turned off the burner and transferred the fish to a plate, and set it in front of her. She wasn't really a big fan of fried Pollock (it tended to be kind of greasy), but, as hungry as she was, this fish was delicious. The salad was pretty darn good too. The tomatoes were the vine-ripened kind, and they had more flavor than the usual store-bought tomatoes.
They ate in silence. This was probably another reason why Mark kept getting dumped. He never had been much of a conversationalist. This time, she really didn't mind. The silence felt a little awkward, but, then again, the whole situation was more than awkward. There really wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss with him, anyway, except for, possibly, when would he let her go, but she didn’t think she would like to hear what he had to say on that subject. After they finished eating, he put the pan, the knife, and the bowls in the sink, and then he led her back to the basement, and tied her up again. Apparently, he was still afraid that somebody might be coming by. Who was this mysterious person that he was so worried about, and would they help her if she found a way to get their attention? Then again, maybe he wasn't expecting anyone, and he was just being careful. In any case, she didn't think this was the way that Stockholm Syndrome worked. In order for her to develop an attachment to him, wouldn’t there have to be more contact than just an occasional meal together, shared in silence?
He looked at her, and said, "I suppose you are. I've eaten twice since the last time you ate, and I don't think you finished your lunch yesterday." There was a long pause, and then Mark asked, "So, what would you be willing to do for a meal, now?"
Lena crossed her arms, and glared at him in silence. Mark laughed, "I guess that means you haven't fallen in love with me, yet. That's okay; you will. In the meantime, though, I think we need to keep your strength up. Come on, let's go in the kitchen." He led her down the hall the other way, and turned into the third door on the right. In the kitchen, Mark got out lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, garbanzo beans, mushrooms, and some Pollock. "Is fish and salad okay with you?"
Lena nodded. Mark got out a knife and a frying pan. He handed her the knife, sprayed the pan with non-stick spray, and then started frying the fish. Lena started making some salad, and then paused. "Am I making salad for one or two?"
"I'm okay," Mark said, "On second thought, go ahead and make two salads. I don't want you to have to eat alone."
Lena's mind began to work. Mark had said that his mother would be out of the country for months, and yet, he had felt the need to keep Lena tied up in the basement. Obviously he was afraid that somebody would come by, but whom? Then again, here she was in the kitchen, so maybe whoever it was had already come and gone. Would they be back? She had to assume not any time soon, but, maybe later today, or tomorrow. Mark would probably try to keep her from figuring out who it was, and what their schedule would be. She looked at the knife in her hand, and wondered if she had a chance to plunge it into him before he shot her. She remembered hearing the expression, "Hot lead faster than cold steel." and decided against trying anything. He had his back to her, but she probably didn't really have much chance to sneak up behind him. Poking around in the cabinets, she found some salad bowls, and started putting chopped lettuce into them, followed by sliced tomatoes, etc. She briefly considered hiding the knife on her person, but Mark might notice it missing. She set out the two bowls of salad and waited for the fish to be ready. After a few minutes, Mark turned off the burner and transferred the fish to a plate, and set it in front of her. She wasn't really a big fan of fried Pollock (it tended to be kind of greasy), but, as hungry as she was, this fish was delicious. The salad was pretty darn good too. The tomatoes were the vine-ripened kind, and they had more flavor than the usual store-bought tomatoes.
They ate in silence. This was probably another reason why Mark kept getting dumped. He never had been much of a conversationalist. This time, she really didn't mind. The silence felt a little awkward, but, then again, the whole situation was more than awkward. There really wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss with him, anyway, except for, possibly, when would he let her go, but she didn’t think she would like to hear what he had to say on that subject. After they finished eating, he put the pan, the knife, and the bowls in the sink, and then he led her back to the basement, and tied her up again. Apparently, he was still afraid that somebody might be coming by. Who was this mysterious person that he was so worried about, and would they help her if she found a way to get their attention? Then again, maybe he wasn't expecting anyone, and he was just being careful. In any case, she didn't think this was the way that Stockholm Syndrome worked. In order for her to develop an attachment to him, wouldn’t there have to be more contact than just an occasional meal together, shared in silence?
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