This time, it's more traditional breakfast food: an omelette with vegetables and cheese, a piece of toast, and fresh tropical fruit.
She's again smiling at me, apparently determined to ignore the fork incident. "Good morning," she says cheerfully.
My eyebrows rise. "And good morning to you too," I say, my voice thick with sarcasm.
At my obvious attempt to needle her, Beatrice's smile widens further. "Oh, don't be such a grump. Cross said you get to leave the room today. Isn't that nice?"
It actually is nice. It would give me a chance to explore my prison a bit, to see if this place is really an island. Maybe there are other people here besides Beatrice—people who would be more sympathetic to my plight.
Alternatively, maybe I'll find a phone or a computer. If I could just send a text or an email to James, they could pass it along to the police and then I might be rescued.
