He was trying to get a rise out of Heath, and I had no doubts it would work.

Sometimes the words he chose to carve into my skin were odd.  Random.  Words like MOTHER, CALM, PLIANT.  Once, randomly, I even received a LOVELY right under my right breast.

But other times, the words weren’t random at all.  The day after that conversation was one of those.

I received a LIAR in my left underarm, high up into my armpit, right on the most sensitive skin.  It hurt like a bitch.

I didn’t get a word every time, but words or not, he always carved something on me.

It made it easy, at least, to count the days as they passed.

We were ten days in when he cut a neat little OBEDIENT right on the inside of my wrist.

He was calculated enough to put me in a long sleeved shirt after that one.  He was at least trying to hide all of the cutting from Raf.  I appreciated that.

He was gone from the house right after, leaving us alone for the usual two-hour stretch.

We were careful when we spoke, I figured he had the room at least bugged, but those two hours were still the highlight of every day.

“Are you okay?” I asked Raf, first thing when we were by ourselves.

His raw eyes hit mine, and I could see that this was taking its toll on him.  My poor, sensitive boy.  If it wouldn’t have done more harm to him, I’d have wept.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, voice scratchy with the effort to hold everything in.

“No, sweetie.  I’m fine.”

Raf’s bloodshot eyes moved down to a spot on my arm, just below the sleeve of my shirt.

I looked down.  Dammit.  A bit of blood showed, peeking out through the hem.

I turned my arm, hiding it, but it was too late.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Just a scratch,” I assured him.

He shut his eyes, and I could see his lips were quivering.

My poor, sensitive boy.

I’d given up on working at my ropes by then.  Earl had noticed the condition of my wrists early on, and calmly threatened to hurt Raf if I continued.

Our situation felt more hopeless than ever.  By taking both of us, he had all the leverage he needed to keep us obedient forever.

Just thinking the word had me glancing down at my bloody wrist.  The cuts had leaked just enough to make out the neat OBEDIENT through my white sleeve.

That was the day something wonderful happened.

Earl didn’t come back.

Not that day, or the next, or the one after that.

The third day was the day when I began to gain the certainty that we were going to die like this, tied up to soiled chairs and starving.

Each time he’d left, Earl had given us each a large bottle of water, set between our legs.  It was tricky, but we’d both picked up swiftly how to drink that way, twisting the cap off with our teeth, and taking small sips.

We each rationed our water as much as we could; taking the tiniest sips when we began to get an inkling that he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

On day three, it was looking dire.  Even with the  rationing, we were down to the last drops, and soon, sucking at air.

How long could a person live without water?  I thought three days.  Raf swore it was five, since we were indoors.

I badly did not want to find out which one of us was right.

Another day passed, the water completely gone now.

I had the popcorn ceilings memorized, and I didn’t even notice the stench anymore.

We played games, quizzed each other with random trivia to pass the time, but I began to feel my mind getting more sluggish, and we slept longer and longer with each passing day.

Raf was sleeping when I got a sudden desperate burst of energy and began to struggle against my bonds.

I rubbed my wrists and ankles bloody, nearly knocked over my chair, and accomplished nothing at all.  Earl’d known what he was doing.  He left no weaknesses for us to exploit.

I cried, but no tears came.  I was too dehydrated for that.

I woke with a start, and I didn’t know why.  I sat still for a moment, thinking, listening intently, before I heard it, breaking the great, vast silence of the desert.

A car.  A loud one or possibly a few cars.

My eyes met Raf’s.  We stared at each other, both of us afraid to hope that this might be some improvement in our situation.

Perhaps it was Earl, and he’d just been using a new means to torture us.

His car had never been loud, though.  But then it was possible he’d just brought a different one.  The man was a stone cold murderer.  I doubted he’d have any qualms about stealing a new car.

But no, as the sound grew, getting louder and louder until it felt like it was shaking the house, I became more certain that it wasn’t just one car or even a few.  It was a lot of cars.

I jumped in my seat when I heard a loud bang on the door, not like a knock, but like a battering ram, accompanied by shouts of, “FBI!  Open up!” and more loud bangs, followed by the unmistakable sound of the front door being smashed open.

I thought I might pass out cold, I was so relieved.

Heath was the first one in.

He looked insane.  Deranged.  He was covered in blood, from his neck to his feet, and his eyes were more animal than human.

I didn’t care.  I’d take him like that.  I’d take him any way at all.

He brought me water, eyes wary on me, but I refused to drink, telling him to get it to Raf first.  He moved slightly, letting me see that Raf was being tended to just as quickly as I.