Kidnapped by A Predator

I woke up in the morning with a kick to the stomach and I heard a thud. I rolled over and looked at the thing that fell, and I realized it was Rebel and he had tripped over me. I groaned and rolled back over, wanting to go back to sleep. "Get up, Food." I looked at him in shock. "I can't get up, dimwit. My foot is broken. Remember?" he looked at me like I was stupid and stood up. "I know. Get up."

I refused to move so he pulled me up to my feet and and threw me on the bed. "I'm not tripping over you anymore. So don't think you are lucky. And don't touch me. So, just lay there on the edge." He walked out of the room and came back at midnight and crawled into bed. I opened my mouth to speak and and he growled. "Shut up. No talking." I groaned and started talking to myself.

This obviously did not please Rebel and he flipped me over and pressed his lips to mine. "When I mean shut up, I mean, shut up." he growled out and rolled over, his back to me. I laid there in shock. Needless to say, I did not sleep that night.

When morning came, Rebel was gone, apparently, I had slept that night. There was a small plate of food on the bed and there was no one around. I assumed it was for me. I lifted the fork with my hand cuffed hand and raised it to my lips with difficultly. I was about to take a bite when it was ripped from me. "What the hell do you think you are doing" I looked up at him in shock. "I thought it was for me." He snarled and picked up the fork and the food and ate it all. "Well you thought wrong. Its for me."

"What. . . is it?" He looked at me void of emotion. "What do you think it is?" He lifted the fork and ate the food on it. "Um. Meat?" He shook his head. "Yes, but no. What kind of meat?" He looked at me expectantly, a bemused look on his face.

"Pork?"

"No."

"Beef?"

"No."

"Vension?"

"No."

"Chicken?"

"Not even close."

"Lamb?"

"No."

"Fish?"

"Hell no." He shook his head, still very amused from all of this.

"Then what the hell is it?" I watched him take another bite off of the fork, wondering what it was.

He smirked. "Human flesh. You think you would have realized that, seeing as when this is gone, you will be my next main course." He finished the rest left on the plate and went to stand up. "Why?" I could tell my question shocked him.

"Look, you are going to die, you don't need to know why, who, or what I am. That includes what I eat. Don't question me. You'll live longer." He left the room and I sighed. I chanced a glance out the window, wondering why he was like that. If I died it wouldn't matter. Who would I have to go back to? My father wasn't much of a father. He never has been and never was. I doubted he ever would be. But that didn't bother me. I laid there pondering thoughts, of course I wouldn't notice the arms that ensnared my waist, or the thing that hit me on the head. I blacked out and awaited my torture, or my death.