CHAPTER 10

I woke up groggy, the dull ache of hunger gnawing at my stomach. The couch was lumpy, my muscles stiff from how I'd curled into myself. For a moment, I just lay there, blinking in the dark, trying to shake off the disorientation. But the emptiness in my stomach quickly brought me back to reality. I hadn't eaten in what felt like forever.

I need food. Just something small.

I sat up slowly, listening to the silence in the apartment. His bedroom door was still closed, and I couldn't hear anything coming from inside. Maybe he was asleep. The thought of him asleep, unaware, gave me the courage to move.

Careful not to make too much noise, I stood and crept toward the kitchen. The fridge's hum grew louder as I approached, my mouth watering at the thought of whatever might be inside. Even a can of beans would be better than the gnawing hunger twisting in my gut. I was desperate—too desperate to think of the consequences.

I reached the fridge, heart pounding in my chest, and gently pulled it open. The cold air hit me in the face, and my eyes scanned the shelves. There were a few cans, some half-empty containers, nothing spectacular, but enough to make my mouth water.

My fingers wrapped around a can of soup, trembling. Just this. He won't even notice.

But just as I was about to close the fridge door, I felt a presence behind me, and my heart plummeted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His voice sliced through the air, sharp and venomous. I froze, the can still in my hand, my breath catching in my throat.

"I—" My voice cracked, and I turned slowly to face him. He stood there, eyes narrowed, fury radiating off him.

"I wasn't… I was just—" I stammered, trying to think of an excuse, but my mind was blank, fear clouding every thought.

"That's my food," he snapped, stepping closer. "You think you can just take whatever you want?"

"I'm hungry," I whispered, hating how small and weak my voice sounded, but I couldn't help it. My body was trembling, the hunger mixing with fear in a sickening way. "I just wanted a little. I'm sorry."

His eyes darkened, and before I could react, he lunged forward, grabbing me by the wrist. Pain shot up my arm as his grip tightened, the can falling from my hand and clattering to the floor.

"You don't touch my stuff without permission," he growled, his face inches from mine. "Do you hear me?"

I nodded frantically, tears stinging my eyes, but it wasn't enough. His grip tightened further, and I whimpered in pain, struggling to pull my arm free.

"I said, do you hear me?" He shook me hard, and I gasped, biting back the cry that rose in my throat.

"Yes!" I cried out, my voice barely more than a choked sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please…"

He shoved me back, hard, and I stumbled, falling against the counter. My wrist throbbed, my entire body shaking with fear. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, my mind spinning in a whirl of panic and pain.

He towered over me, his chest heaving, eyes wild with anger. For a moment, I thought he might hit me, and I braced myself, squeezing my eyes shut. But then he turned, storming back toward his room without another word, leaving me crumpled on the floor, shaking.

I sat there for a long time, my wrist throbbing, the fear pulsing in my veins. My breath came in shallow gasps, and I wiped at the tears streaming down my face, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to spill out.

I can't stay here. I can't.

But where else could I go?