Page 88 of Corrupt Game

Considering that Ian was gone, maybe for good, all hunger left my body.

There wasn’t a need to eat when the one person that mattered had walked away. Maybe he’d come back, but I wasn’t going tocount on it. Maybe I’d been wrong and I was being kept alive because there was something they needed from me.

It wasn’t like me to respond in this manner. Ian must have cast a spell on me because there wasn’t another explanation for my actions. I had never had this need for another person. As much as I cared and loved Andy, this with Ian went way beyond that. I was officially broken.

Why had I forgotten the first rule, never get emotionally involved?

Despondent and unwilling to let Rossi see how much Ian’s absence was affecting me, I flushed the food down the toilet.

After the first time, I knew that he wasn’t watching the cameras like Ian had been.

The sense of freedom should have felt wonderful, but I was too upset for that to work properly.

Dinner was delivered again, and I picked at the food. A few bites were all I could stomach.

I’d let him tie me up in knots. My whole person had become attached to Ian and what he wanted.

This was crazy. It had only been weeks and I’d developed Stockholm syndrome. I thought that it would have taken longer for me to trust him.

His method of breaking me had been solid.

Deny the normal pleasures until she’s begging for more. Add in a little kindness afterward and it will seem like the most wonderful thing ever.

Now, he was denying me his presence.

It had been a great weekend. We’d gotten closer than ever and something had spooked him.

Bastard.

Another evening was spent asking myself why. Why he was doing this, and why I’d let myself care.

***

When Rossi arrived with my food first thing the next morning, I was ready for him.

“Where is he? I need to see him now,” I demanded.

Rossi tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m going to get louder until he comes down here on his own and explains this.”

All I got was a sniff or snort of laughter. He was trying not to laugh, but didn’t do a great job of it.

“Seriously, what can I do to him when I’m down here? Doesn’t he owe me an explanation of some sort?” I yelled at Rossi.

He just shook his head and went back to the elevator.

I still had my notebook, and I’d begun to mark the days.

With nothing else to do between meals, I started working out reasons why he might have done this.

A: He wants me to miss him.

Well, mission accomplished asshole.

B: He had to travel and didn’t get to tell me.

But if he was doing that, why not just have Rossi tell me?