Why Chastity had piled his things on the stairs, instead of where he’d had it by the door, he had no idea. Charlie had eaten most of her food—she was in better spirits today, despite the fact that she’d been zip tied to the bed for ten days. George thought that maybe the little girl had decided to stop fighting the situation and just deal with it, much like he’d long ago decided to stop fight Chastity on every single issue. Sometimes it was just better to agree, especially when Chastity was yelling at him or, even worse, when she started in with that barn-owl screeching that put George’s nerves on edge. The other tray was nearly full. He was worried about Maya, the little Mexican girl. She cried all the time, rarely stopping, and didn’t eat much of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and other food that George had carried upstairs. She had certainly not accepted the situation. Every time he came into the room, she shouted at him in a mixture of English and Spanish and fought his every command.
