"Pick up the apple, Miss Ellis."

I blinked. Blind eyes, trying to see past the whiteness. His image was a sillouette against the glare of the utter starkness of the walls, nothing but a faceless shadow of the voice I had come to hate.

"Pick up the apple, Miss Ellis."

Cold, pale words. They were so simple. But I wasn't a dog, a cow to be used and willed with a single phrase. The shadow came closer until I could feel his breath, hot and human against my nose.

"Please Miss Ellis. Pick up the apple." It wasn't a request, please or no please.

I closed my eyes, but the light still shone through, whiter than the sun against snow. For a moment I fought within myself. The temptation was strong. My senses were aflame with desire. My throat burned, my stomach was sharp with the pain of hunger, and my bony wrist felt frail even to its mate. I longed to feel the crunch of that sweet, crisp, juicy fruit between my teeth.

I opened my eyes, considering. The apple was the only thing I could ever see clearly. It was red. Deep, dark red. I could imagine its meat: white and succulent.

But I wouldn't let them win.

"No."

You're not going to win this time. Not here. Not with me. Not over an apple. Why? Because if I give in, it won't end here.

"Miss Ellis, you don't really want to spend another night here do you? What is this? Sixteen?"

Seventeen, but I didn't dare speak again. "Come now, Miss Ellis." I hated the sound of my name on his lips. "Pick up the apple."

"No."

I could feel his grimace.

"Very well." The sound of his chair sliding against the floor set my teeth on edge. Then came the thud of hard metal against metal. The light died, and I was once more engulfed in blackness and solitude. For one more night I could call myself free.