‘I’m sorry,’ her voice cracked. ‘We’ve washed every day, Master.’

The man smiled and pulled a syringe out. He walked over to Anna and injected her. Anna’s stomach dropped, knowing what it meant to be chosen: she would be the one making his breakfast that morning. Their captor walked out the door but didn’t lock it behind him like he usually did. She heard him jostling things around in the kitchen. Her eyelids drooped under their own weight and her body felt sluggish as the drug kicked in. It was just enough to make her too weak to fight or run but not quite strong enough to send her to sleep or numb her from the horror he was putting them through. He came back into the room and crouched next to her, his eyes darting inquisitively back and forth between each of her own eyes. It made her skin crawl and she desperately wanted to look away, to get some space between them, but she knew better by now.

After a second that felt like an hour, he said under his breath, ‘Yep, that’ll do.’

He detached her chains from the wall and led her to the kitchen. She waited as he locked the door behind them, separating her from Mary, then she shuffled to the stove where he’d laid out eggs, bacon and bread next to the toaster. Her stomach growled, her mouth watering at the sight. How she wished she could eat it herself.

He sat at the dining table while Anna lifted eggs out of the carton, preparing to fry them. She was so groggy that she dropped the first egg on the floor with a loud splat, the runny whites and bright yellow yolks spreading into the cracks in the floor. Her eyes widened at the mistake and then darted to him. The man walked over and slapped her hard across the face, leaving a painful stinging sensation in its wake. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her down to the floor, shoving her face near the puddle of egg.

‘You’ll eat that egg. You don’t waste food.’