Page 32 of Capo
Eleven
Chloe
The thought of getting a shirt makes me weep with want. How did he already reduce me to someone who is so desperate for even the most primal needs that I consider doing what he tells me? Eat, drink, cover up my naked body? I stare at the camera over and over, pondering the option to masturbate in front of it. I clench up at the thought. How many will be watching? Will it be recorded? It will for sure, then used against me at some point. No, I refuse.
Hours pass. I sleep a little. I’m thirsty and my head pounds. I realize I’ll need to pee soon. I glance at the camera again, then at the drain in the middle of the room. I can probably cover up with the blanket. This is all so fucked.
The silence is suffocating, the padded room swallowing every sound, my whimpers when I cry, the rustle when I move, my breathing. It’s all eerily muffled, like it’s being eaten the moment I make the sound. I have bursts of panic, feeling as if the walls close in on me, but no one comes to my rescue, no one comforts me and I have to take care of myself, as always.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I decide it’s enough. My bladder feels as if it’s gonna burst and my stomach cramps. I’m lightheaded from hunger when I get up and then squat over the drain, making sure the blanket covers me up properly.
When I stand, I spin around and glare at the camera. “Fuck you! I’m hungry! Let me out of here, you dick!”
I’ve dozed off again and almost fly through the roof when a disembodied voice suddenly is heard. It’s him.
“You know what you need to do.”
“For a shirt?” I spit.
“For a shirt, you give me a show. For food, you’ll beg me to suck my cock.”
“Never!”
“Okay.”
Silence.
My stomach twists my insides. The word food renewed the pain from being denied for so long.
Silence.
“Salvatore!”
Silence.
“Hello! Anyone there?” I scream.
“Yes?”
“Can I…” Repulsion almost makes me retch. “Can I please suck—” I swallow, “your cock.” I can’t resist the new tears that fall and a hoarse whimper escapes my throat. I’ve never hated anyone more in my life before. Not even the men who dragged my brothers into a life of crime.
“Please what?”
“Sir!”
Silence.
“Hello!”
No answer. I jerk hard when the door suddenly opens and he stands there in all his deceptively beautiful glory. So fucking handsome, and such a ruthless psychopath. Maybe I should just provoke him until he kills me? But I really don’t want to die.
At least not yet.
He grins. “You wanted something? Tell me what again.”
The corners of my mouth must be pulled to my knees as I answer him, my voice shaky. “Can I please suck your cock, sir?”
“Crawl to me.”