7: Clockwork

"Rise and shine, love."

Yanire found it fascinating lately that a person could wake up inside of a nightmare rather than fall into one in their sleep. Her eyes opened to the view of a dusty morning sky. It was still generally dark and Yanire was sure it couldn't be even seven a.m yet. 

"Breakfast is served."

The sound of the tray hitting the metal table was routine now. The woman glanced over to the area and grew irritable by the way Martien seemed to be in a good mood. She hated the pep in his step and the way a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. She glared holes in his back as he moved away from the table. Oh, she despised him. 

"Now sweetheart, get up and eat."

Yanire followed the instruction for lack of any other choice and moved over to the tray with a blank face. Today, the meal was accompanied by a small plastic spoon meant for infants. Yanire shrugged and began to eat the shlop of oatmeal and honey. It wasn't terrible, but rather mediocre in taste. This meal he had very likely made himself.

When she was finished, she turned to find him watching her with nervous eyes and she immediately braced herself for another hellish torment.

"I'd also like to talk with you about something."

Yanire stared emptily at him.

"Right- I think things between us haven't been so smooth lately and I was hoping we could work together to remedy that."

Yanire's stomach dipped in disgust as her eyes left him, staring off into space.

"I think we can still salvage this marriage, dear."

Yanire wished that looks could kill. She wished he would stop talking.

"What do you say to having brunch with me today?"

Her mouth was dry.

"No."

Martien's eyes found her face quickly. Irritation sparked in him.

"Pardon? What did you say?"

"No, Martien."

The man was fuming "no?" as he paced back and forth near the door. She was in no real position to defy him, they both knew that. So why? Eventually he crossed the space between them and grabbed her arm, forcing her to look up at him.

"You will have brunch with me, Yanire. You haven't got a choice."

Yanire scoffed, eyes drifting away from him.

"Then why did you ask?"

To this, the green of his eyes darkened and he shoved her backwards from him. She hit the bed, leg aching from being hit by the metal frame.

"I'll be back in a few hours to collect you."

The door slammed behind him and silence resumed. Yanire preferred it.

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It was creeping into late evening time when Martien reappeared, He had propped the door to her prison open and started moving a collection of items inside. First there was a circular table, followed by two chairs and a tablecloth. Eventually Yanire laid back against the bed, staring up at the pinks and dark oranges as they painted the sky overhead.

"This should do nicely."

When Yanire didn't react to his declaration, Martien walked over to the bed.

"Come dear, get up."

She glanced at him numbly before following his order and rising. Martien made a great show of pulling her chair out for her as though the move was meant to flatter her.

He sat across from her and this was when she noticed the contents of food atop the table. It was a collection of Filipino dishes which her mother must have handed over the recipes for. Yanire felt sick just looking at them.

"I took a Filipino cooking class after you left."

His left brow twitched. Yanire couldn't imagine what good he meant to do by lying. 

"What about you, darling? Do you still play piano?"

The woman blinked at him emptily, eyes drained and tired. That he could even pretend things were natural while there were chains around her feet was insanity. He had kidnapped her and trapped her inside of a concrete box in the middle of nowhere, and now he wanted to play pretend that either of them were okay with it. 

"No."

Her words seemed to itch at him. Martien took one of the plastic kids forks and began to poke at the dish closest to him.

"Are you going to eat?"

Yanire couldn't look at him anymore. Her eyes found an empty spot with the red and white tablecloth peeking through and became lost in it. She wondered if there was a way to escape from this room. She'd already walked around it and studied every detail inside. Martien had taken great care to make it inescapable, but on the bright side there was a working toilet which she could use without his explicit permission.

"Yanire."

The tone in his voice was biting. He never did take well to not getting what he wanted.

"What?"

The irritation in her own voice seemed to irk him further until he slapped the dish in front of him against the wall to her right. It splattered everywhere, reddish orange mango sauce dripping down the wall gracelessly. Martien jumped up from the table and turned away from her. The drastic widening and collapsing of his back gave away the instability of his breathing. 

Yanire counted. One. Two… Four. Five…

Like clockwork, the pacing started. His oxford shoes tapped this way and that as he tried to steady his breathing. Eventually he failed, snatching up the chair he'd been sitting in and swinging it over and over again against the concrete floor. 

Snap. Crack. The furniture broke into splinters as the man started to grow manic in his movements. Yanire realized with a stale sort of horror that she didn't feel anything. She was not afraid. She was not angry. She couldn't feel anything except exhaustion.

"Martien."

The sound of his name in her mouth halted his movements. The man turned to her with eyes foggy from the rage but desperate, starved for any sign of affection.

"Yes?"

She looked directly into his green orbs with calm ones. It seemed to unsettle and comfort the enraged man at the same time.

"I'm tired."

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