Twisted by Aleatha Romig

Author:Aleatha Romig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Romig Works

Laurel

What the hell?

He saw it in my refrigerator.

The man leaned against the see-through wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Without giving it conscious thought, I did as I’d done before and scanned him from toe to head. He was still wearing the boots, jeans, and black thermal that he’d worn at my house. When our eyes met, I fought the urge to look away. The intensity of his green stare was both comforting and disconcerting. The odd combination knotted my empty stomach.

Time stood still for a second or two as we both remained silent.

Finally, he nodded toward the table. “Eat.”

Reaching for the small foil packet of dressing, I asked, “How many times have you been in my house?” Ripping the top, I waited for his answer as I simultaneously drizzled the vinaigrette over the romaine lettuce, onions, peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers. The olives and feta cheese were in separate containers. My hands began to tremble as I mixed everything together. I hadn’t realized the voracity of my hunger until food was at my fingertips.

It was as if nothing else mattered. Even in this odd situation, primal needs were the first that required fulfillment.

As I stuffed a large forkful of lettuce and olives into my mouth, a noise escaped my lips. It was a groan or a moan. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was the salad was delicious.

The man said I’d been asleep for over ten hours.

Was he counting the time I’d been awake in that room too?

Either way it was now afternoon or evening.

I looked around the top of the walls for a window to judge the daylight. There were two, both covered with plywood. I should be worried, yet at the moment, consuming the food before me was my paramount concern.

Eating more salad, Maslow’s hierarchy of needs came to mind. A simple psychological theory, it states how physiological needs such as food, water, warmth, and rest must be met before moving up the pyramid.

The next level was safety.

I looked back at the covered windows.

Safety.

I wasn’t ready to think about that.

Food first.

After a few more bites and some more water, I looked over at the man. “You haven’t answered me.”

“I thought I told you to stop asking questions.”

My head shook as I stabbed the fork into the salad. “I can’t. It’s what I do.” I took a bite and swallowed. “My house...”

“Over the last two weeks, multiple times.”

“I should have listened to my dad and had an alarm system installed.”

His lips quirked. “That wouldn’t have stopped me. It also wouldn’t stop people you welcomed into your front door or ones who have keys. Basically, your house could second as Grand Central Station. Even your neighbor comes and goes.”

I knew about Mrs. Beeson. We had an understanding. However, hearing him casually discuss people coming and going from my private residence chilled my skin. I pulled the blanket back to my shoulders.

Although I was eating and had the basic needs met, that was only the first level of the hierarchy.

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