“Are you enjoying the food?” Dean asked, taking a seat across from you, a giddy grin adorning his face.

He lay a cloth across his lap, patiently waiting for your answer. He’d cooked it just for you after all. He was pretty sure it was Eric. A leg maybe? In the freezer it all gets jumbled up.

It was a month ago when you got taken to this messed up place. You were naive enough to fall for Dean, go away with him for a weekend, only to end up here, trapped, slowly and painfully awaiting the day he’d take you to the operating table.

But he hasn’t yet. Thanks to a magazine note and Dean’s own words, you’ve figured out that he likes you more than the others, and that you can use it. So you have been. Pretending to be curious about the food, faking laughs at his jokes, smiling at him. All to lower his guard. And it’s working. Hopefully…

“I think I might’ve added too much garlic.” Dean chuckled, taking a few bites.