Eighty-Nine

I didn't deserve a morsel of food.

I didn't deserve anything good, I knew that and that's why I didn't want to eat anything that had been brought to my room in the last two days. It’d been ringing in my head non-stop that I didn't deserve the comfort I was being offered here as a prisoner, I wasn't here to be fed or given a comfortable bed to rest my head on, I was here to be taken revenge on and I truly wished he’d get on with it already before the guilt I felt ate me up inside out.

When would he finally torture me as he’d kept threatening to? I impatiently wondered. Instead, he’d just been here ordering me to eat as though I was going on a hunger strike to protest being kidnapped, little did he know that I was simply punishing myself for being a bitch to him. But I knew that I couldn’t tell him that, I wasn't seeking pity or sympathy from him, I just needed him to level the playing ground by exacting his revenge on me for my betrayal so that we’d finally be even in a way.

He looked