Fern didn't return that night. I called out to him until my throat became sore, and yet, he didn't return.
Not even when I asked for water. It was as if he were teasing me with something like this.
"Good morning," smiling to himself, he came into the room.
"Let me go." I tug on the ropes that were holding me captive.
My hands felt sore and heavy. And that was what prevented me from tugging on it as much as I would have loved to.
"You are dirty," Fern smirked. "Have you thought of having a bath?"
"Let me go, and we will talk of that."
"Don't worry, I have the best solution for it." Fern climbed onto the bed and brought a knife out of his pocket.
"What are you doing!" I swallow the lump in my throat when he brought the knife close to my throat.
Is he trying to kill me?
Has Fern gone mad?
"Don't worry, you will see what I'm about to do."
