She hadn’t needed Mama to tell her that. Bethany had figured it out all on her own.
Her empty tummy cramped again, as if it knew the man was gone and was ordering her to hurry up and hunt for food.
Just a little longer. Just in case.
Most of the time, the bad man was smart. That was the problem. Otherwise, she might have escaped already.
Bethany hated everything about him. Those sharp smiles that didn’t reach his eyes as well as his quiet, sneaky steps. He could never be Wonder Woman, or Catwoman, even if he was sneaky enough to be a burglar. The bad man was definitely a supervillain. He needed a name, but the best she’d come up with so far was Doctor Bad.
After counting down another twenty breaths, Bethany finally opened her eyes. The sun crept between the boards over her window and painted her bed in thin stripes, enough light to show that the room was empty. She sat up and listened.
Another twenty breaths later, Bethany slid out of bed and slipped on her socks. Retracing her steps from yesterday, she took the quietest path across the room, edged open the door, and peeked out.
No bad man there, so she crept down the hall to the bathroom and frowned at the toilet. Usually, she had to pee the second she woke up, but not today. That seemed wrong somehow, but she didn’t have time to waste worrying about it. Not when her body ached, and her tummy was empty, and her mouth was as dry as if she’d swallowed sand.
Her gaze fell on the faucet. After pausing to listen for the rumble of a car, Bethany hurried over to the sink. The water splashed icy-cold on her hands, and she muffled a yelp but didn’t wait for the temperature to warm. She cupped her hands beneath the spray and raised them to her mouth to take big, greedy gulps.
Her empty tummy cramped even harder when the water hit, and she doubled over, gasping. When the pain subsided, she forced herself to drink again.
When she finished, Bethany shut off the faucet and used her sleeve to wipe up the counter. The bad man never kept any towels in here, and he was creepy enough to measure the toilet paper too. She left the bathroom and padded past his room and all those weird pictures on the wall until the hallway spilled into the living room.
Her legs wobbled as she rushed to the front door and yanked on the knob. No use. The bad man always kept it locked, with a key, even from the inside. Bethany remembered now, but the disappointment still made her head spin. Or maybe the spinning was because she hadn’t eaten in so long. Either way, thinking too much hurt her brain.
She ran to the windows next but lifting her arms to try to pry the boards off made the dizziness worse, and the wood scraping against her torn fingers shot pain up her arms.
Bethany let go of the board and rubbed her palms on her forehead. Why was she doing this when she knew it was stupid? A total waste of time. The bad man locked the little house as tight as a jail. Without a key or a tool, she was trapped, so why even leave her room?
Her bleary gaze traveled across the living room and landed on the kitchen.
Right. She needed food.
Bethany pushed away from the window and headed in that direction, but after only two steps, the room started spinning again. She stumbled into the beat-up green couch and grabbed the back for support while she panted and waited for the dizziness to wear off.
Food. If she could just get to the food, she’d feel so much better.
Once her vision cleared, Bethany started forward again. Slower this time. If she fell, she was afraid she might be too weak to get back up.
She inched across the living room toward the kitchen. When she reached the threshold, excitement cleared her head until she peeked inside.
A thick metal chain was strapped tight across the refrigerator door. Bethany stared at the ugly black metal links and wanted to scream. Hatred curled her fists. She wished someone would wrap that chain around the bad man, as tight as one of those snakes that squeezed you to death.
Guilt followed the ugly wish. Her teacher told the class that hate was a bad word, and hurting people was wrong and mean.
Bethany didn’t want to be mean, not like the bad man. If only her tummy didn’t hurt so much.
She hurried to the fridge and yanked on the chain, but the thick metal refused to budge, so she gave up and stumbled to the cupboard. Climbing onto the counter was so much harder than yesterday. Her legs shook, and her arms wobbled like noodles. After three attempts, she finally stood up and reached for the cabinet doors.
She opened them, and the hope inside her died. Empty. All the cereal, bread, and yummy snacks were gone. He’d even taken the dried noodles and jars of sauce.
The bare shelves made Bethany’s tummy hurt even more. She pressed a hand to her stomach and staggered back to the floor to search the rest of the cupboards, but there was nothing to eat. Not a single can of soup or a forgotten chip. No crumbs on the counter.
She even opened the trash can, hoping to find a sandwich crust or a brown piece of banana, but that was empty too.
Bethany stood by the trash can for a long time, staring at nothing. When she closed the lid and left the kitchen, her body felt funny. Kind of floaty and fuzzy, like maybe this was all just a bad dream.
With no idea where she was headed or why, Bethany drifted through the tiny living room and stopped on a worn, green rug sprinkled with flowers.
“Pretty.” She squatted down to
