He was somewhere very close by, yet far enough away that he didn’t think she knew he was still in the room. He liked to play games like that. He’d come to give her food, and unlock the metal cuffs that chained her to the wall. Then he’d sit and silently watch her while she ate God-knows-what, wiping her face when she was finished with a scratchy rag that smelled like a mix of mildew and old lady perfume. Then he’d lock her back up and take the food bowl away. He’d say goodnight or goodbye or whatever, and close the door real hard so that she would think he was gone when he really wasn’t. Instead, he would just stay and watch her, sometimes for what seemed like hours. Why, she didn’t know. Maybe he was waiting for her to do something bad, like rip the strips of surgical tape off her eyes, or move a creaky floorboard to reveal the escape tunnel he thought she might be burrowing. Or maybe he wanted to watch her go to the bathroom in the metal pot he had set up in the corner.
