89 - Becca

I let a singing smile be sketched by my lips. I didn't make any positive gestures, but I kept quiet, watching him. The man frowned lightly, then walked away. At least the tactic of facing the kidnapper to the point that he thought that I would never allow myself to forget his features still worked. I held on not to ask why he didn't cover his face like the others.

Instead, I waited until he sat down, started cutting his chicken again and faced the food again. The smell was driving me crazy. I had the impression that anyone would see me as an addict in the face of what had left him in abstinence. I could very well have eaten that wooden table, if a paint of salt and lemon was placed on it.

However, something was wrong. The fact that the man ate the chicken did not mean that all the rest of the food was not poisoned. I doubted that they could have all that work to do with me, they could very well do it in the traditional way. On second thought, it wasn't even necessary to put poison in