HUNTER

8

Sliding a finger into the gap between the collar and my skin I try to scratch at the itch on my neck. Amusingly it seemed to add to the psychopath's entertainment. I scowl at the man's expression and try to focus on attacking the stupid itch as I wait for the kettle to boil. I turn my back and focus, trying to ignore the chill down my spine as his eyes roam over my back.
"Two sugars." He states as I pick out a mug and begin making his drink. My eyes move to a nearby knife stand and for a moment I contemplate grabbing one, spinning around and throwing it across the room at him. Imagining his cry of anguish and the look of horror as he realises what had happened. It would be so easy. But then how would I find the combination to the lock on the collar? I'd be stuck here. No, I needed to find the code first. Then I could deal with Hannibal.
Placing the tea in front of him I take a seat beside him as he browses the newspaper. I sip my own tea thinking about how outside of the window before me we would look like any other couple on a morning. Just enjoying each other's company over breakfast, discussing the weather. However, the reality is so far from the perfect lie Hunter has created for himself. His wife is a kidnapped failed artist with commitment issues who wears a shock collar so her husband keeps her in line, his house is a facade almost like a mask, and he portrays himself in a way which allures everyone around him. He's all charm and polite manners. Until your suddenly in his dungeon. And not the good kind. Everything around him is minimal and clinical. There's no personal items anywhere. No photographs of family holidays, or Christmas's past. Just white, clean, nothingness except some elaborate furniture.
"Why's it so clean in here?" I surprise us both by speaking, then take a sip of my tea casually to hide my nervousness. He clears his throat after a brief pause and answers to my relief, "I like simple things. I'm always working so there's no need for clutter."
"What do you do?" Where did I get this sudden confidence and nosiness from?
"This and that." He says. His eyes glued to sport section.
"Wow, you're a talkative one aren't you." I mutter, retargeting my attention on the red and pink roses outside the window.
"Curiosity killed the cat Angelica." He almost growls from behind his paper.
"Well he hasn't killed it yet. Just kidnapped it." I mumble against the tea cup before taking a sip.
"Don't make me regret this deal, Angelica." He grips the paper tightly in his hands.
"You won't. Doesn't mean I have to be a bright and bubbly wife."
He slams the paper down and pinches his nose as if easing a sudden headache. "I know it's been hard so you're playing up, but surely we can get by this." He takes my hand gently and I nearly vomit in his lap. "Why are you bitter now when our love has bloomed like todays sun rose?"
"How sickly sweet that all sounds," I yank my hand back. "But I'm not going to be all lovey with a man who is keeping me here against my will. And all the fucking chocolates and all the love notes doesn't change that." I spat, standing and stamping towards the stairs. "I'm taking a bath."