I’m still curled up to the side, facing away from the camera and the door that just opened. He enters the room and places a tray on the table. Dinner time. I don’t move and remain in my curled up position while he closes the curtains and switches on the light. When he approaches the bed, I close my eyes, acting as if I was still asleep. Of course, he is unimpressed by that. “I know you’re awake,” he states. “And I know you’re hungry. So, get up.” He unfastens the leash from the hook and gently pulls on it. I open my eyes and glare up at him, still motionless. He is wearing different clothes, dark pants and a soft cashmere sweater in gray. His hair is still combed to the side, creating a contrast to his otherwise casual appearance. He looks down at me with an apathetic expression, neither happy nor unhappy. I hate how handsome he is, even now. I shake my head, unable—and unwilling—to speak.
