The sky outside was dark when Jase returned to the bedroom. The toast on the desk hadn’t been touched.
“I told you to eat.” He said. Her unblinking eyes didn’t move from her reflection as she spoke.
“And I said no.” He didn’t want to have to be firm with her, but her defiant attitude wouldn’t go down well in the house.
“You need to line your stomach for any alcohol you drink later-”
“I’m seventeen,” she interrupted, finally breaking eye contact with herself and looking up at him stood in the doorway. “I’m not even old enough to drink.” The comment threw him, it had unexpectedly reminded him just how young she was. He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief,
“Okay, starve yourself then, it makes no difference to me. People will be arriving in the next two hours, be ready to come down.” Madison directed her attention back to the mirror and the silent dismissal irked Jase but not enough to make a point about it. She’d eventually just become a shell of who she was. All he had to do was wait.
“Prick,” Madison mumbled as the door clicked shut behind him. She didn’t care that she wasn’t old enough to drink but she was acutely aware that the more human she made herself look, the more chance she had for survival. It was easy to treat someone like an object when they behaved like an object.
Growing up, many of the programmes she watched revolved around crime, much to her mum’s dismay and dad’s amusement. She’d watched murder documentaries ahead of her time and had been fascinated with sociopaths and psychos. She never thought she’d actually have to put anything she’d picked up from these shows to use. Yet here she was, making sure her human qualities stood out. Madison didn’t plan on making her time in the house difficult for herself; she intended on making it very difficult for them, though.
If she was going down, it wouldn’t be an easy feat.