Beth sets a table for us downstairs and prepares a meal of local fish, rice, beans, and plantains. It’s her Caribbean recipe, she tells me proudly. “Are you having dinner with us?” I ask, watching as she carries the plates over to the table. I’m showered and dressed in the clothes Beth provided for me. It’s another white lacy bra-and-panties set and a yellow dress with white flowers on it. On my feet, I’m wearing white high-heeled sandals. The outfit is sweet and feminine, very different from the jeans and dark tops I normally wear. It makes me look like a pretty doll. I still can’t believe they’re letting me walk around the house freely. There are knives in the kitchen. I could steal one and use it on Beth at any point. I’m tempted, even though my stomach churns at the thought of blood and violence. Perhaps I’ll do it soon, once I’ve had a chance to learn a bit more about this place. I’m learning something interesting about myself. I apparently don’t believe in grand, but pointless gestures.
