Melissa knew this material. Hard. Slightly grainy. It pinged when she flicked it with her finger. Ceramic. A plate!

She tested its contents with her fingertips. There were aspects that were soft, a little mushy. Something else was wetter and slick. It failed to snap in her fingers when she bent it, instead peeling away. Tentatively, she brought the freed scrap to her nose and inhaled. It was a vegetable, too bland to have a distinct scent. She stuck out her tongue and tapped the substance on the tip.

Lettuce!

Melissa crunched the leaf between her teeth and then reached both hands out to the plate, patting the top and the edges. It was a sandwich. She was almost sure. The soft part was the bread. She lifted it off and shoved a morsel in her mouth. Yes, definitely bread. Slightly sour. Grainy. There were seeds of some sort in here.

She patted the exposed insides. Something was hard and slightly wet, but she could pierce her finger through it. She brought it to her nose. This was the smell. Chicken. Roast chicken.

She shoved the meat into her mouth and felt around for a glass, tentatively tapping the air. Her nail struck something. She palmed the container, lifted it to her lips, and sipped.

Water. Thank God.

Melissa washed down the half-chewed bite and then drained the rest of the glass. After, she grabbed the sandwich and ripped off a large chunk. The food tasted like relief. Joy. She couldn’t discern individual flavors, but that didn’t matter. She was consuming sustenance, something to keep her from starving to death.

Tears wet her cheeks. The plan wasn’t for her to waste away in here. So, what was it?

She considered the answer as she chewed. Suddenly, her teeth happened upon something gritty. Quickly, she spat the whole mushy mess into her palm and dumped it onto the smooth surface. It might have been mere gristle, but how to be sure? She couldn’t see what she was eating, and she was too desperate to taste if something was off. For all she knew, the whole meal before her had been peppered with rat poison.

Melissa stepped away from the food, ignoring her stomach’s pleas to reconsider. Surely killing her wasn’t the goal. Nate’s murder hadn’t been premeditated. It had been a reaction. A mistake. A failed negotiation that all parties had likely thought would have resulted in a different compromise.

But even mistakes had to be paid for. In this case, perhaps the price was too steep to suffer the consequences.

Tears boiled behind Melissa’s eyes. She threw her head back and screamed as loud as she could. “Help me. Please. I’m locked in here.”

She continued shouting until she was hoarse. No one answered. For all she knew, it was still late. Outside was empty. No one could hear her.