"Were you deliberately starving me?" Ryan asked.

She wouldn't tell him, he was sure. Why should she? That would be her playing ball, and she had no reason to. Honesty, for her, wouldn't be the best policy, as being dishonest would be much more fun. Dr Fiona Bradley seemed to be the type to enjoy that sort of vindictive pastime. Any answer, he hoped, would be useful, even if it wasn't the truth.

"What a wonderful question!" exclaimed the doctor. She clapped her hands together. "How delightful!"

"What's that supposed to mean? Shit, you don't like giving answers!"

"I love giving answers. Really! You just have to ask the right questions, that all."

"How am I supposed to know what's right or wrong? You keep me in a fucking cage in the dark. And the rest. You don't know the difference yourself."

"You're wrong, you know."

"Am I? What about?"

"The not knowing. The keeping you in the dark. You don't know what's going on, so you assume, and your assumptions are incorrect."

"Mind games. It's all just mind games."

"And there I thought we were getting somewhere. Now you're being just like the others."

"What others?"

"Do you think you're the only one who gets to come in and chat? Are you that special?"

"No, of course not. I just want some answers."

"That's what I'm trying to get too. We all want answers."

"What do you need answers to? You're the one holding us!"

"Yes, I am, aren't I?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why not? Why wouldn't we be holding you? This isn't just some aimless distraction, you know?"

"Then what is it?"

"Don't you know?"

"How the fuck would I?

"You'll have to work it out then. Won't you?"

"Do you like your mattress?"

"What?"

"Is that a no?"

Ryan was thrown at the sudden change of topic. Yea, of course he liked the mattress, but that wasn't relevant right now. She was giving things away. It was twisty information that would need deciphering, or holding onto until something else could be attached to untwist it, but all information was useful.

"I like the mattress, thanks."

"You're most welcome."

His thanks weren't genuine or intentional. It had been a sarcastic addendum, that was all. He didn't correct her, however. Her mistake was his victory, albeit a small one.

"Now, about your other question," she said, grinning.

"What question?"

"Which question, dear."

"What?"

"Pardon."

"What the fuck are you..."

"I'm playing with you. It's just a little fun."

Yeah. Fun indeed.

"OK, which question do you mean?"

"Is it which or what? Which is the right word? What do you think?"

Ryan just looked at the woman. He was usure if she was losing her mind or deliberately jumping from subject to random subject. If that's what she wanted to do, he'd let her. It didn't mean he'd join in, though.

"I'm sorry... erm... Ryan. Yes, Ryan. I'll try to keep on topic."

"And what's that?"

"Your hunger."

"My...?" Oh, was that the question? Wow, she could go around the houses, but she still knew which drive she'd parked her car in. "Right. Yes. Not the hunger. The starving. Was that deliberate?"

"What do you think, hmmm? Were you really that hungry?"

"You try going without food for... a long time."

"You have no idea how long you were in there, do you?"

"No. Not a clue. Do you?"

"Of course I do. It's my job to know. And plan. And starve."

"But, why?"

"Because. You've impressed me again with that, you know."

"Fucking great. Because what?"

"Why do you think I might feel the need to keep food and water from you?"

"Because you're a psycho bitch?"

"Oh, perceptive, I see. But, no. I'm not denying that, but it's not the case."

"Then I don't care. I'm done."

"Done with what, may I ask?"

"This. You. I've had enough. I'm not playing anymore."

Ryan went to fold his arms, moving properly for the first time. He found he couldn't. His arms were attached to the sides of the bed by thick ribbons of cloth wrapped around his wrists and tied to the bed's metal side. He hadn't noticed them, because they just felt like the sheet covering him, tucked in tightly in various places. He realised it was a sensory trick, and an effective one. The places where the sheet pulled on his body made him unconsciously ignore the slight weight at his wrists.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked angrily, pulling at the bindings.

"Oh, what a big mouth you have, my dear," said Bradley. She leaned in close to his ear and, through gritted teeth said: "Less of your shitty fucking language, you little fuckity-fuck-fuck-fucker, you hear me?"

Ryan heard, and froze. Her tone had changed abruptly, and was now coated in cold steel.

"I've let you run your mouth off, and you've shown me just who you are," she continued, close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. "You're a gobby little twat who thinks he's more important than he is. Who thinks he has more of a say than he does. That's to say, he's not important and has no say."

She brought her hand up to his face and placed it over his face, squeezing his cheeks together tightly. Her palm covered his mouth and the thenar skin between her thumb and forefinger blocked his nostrils.

He couldn't breathe.

"I humour you, that is all. You have impressed me, but you've quickly disappointed me too. Now, fucking shut the fuck up, got it, you little fucker?"

Ryan tried to answer, but his mouth was sealed. He was trying to speak and take a breath at the same time, and failing at both.

"Speak up, fuck face."

He tried again. It was impossible, though. The more he tried, the firmer she pressed. He looked to the side at her. She was smiling, a malicious gash across her face.

Fuck this!

Ryan suddenly pulled away and sank his teeth into her hand hard enough to taste blood. Bradley screamed and yanked her hand back, bringing the other down in an instant, well-practised fist that connected with the centre of his face. Bones broke in both, but it didn't stop the doctor from delivering a second, harder blow to his Adam's apple.

He tried to cry out, but couldn't. He tried to put his hands to his throat, but couldn't. His head swam, pain raged through him and, before he lost consciousness, he heard a door opening.

"Fio... Doc, are you OK? What happened?"

"Don't worry, Peddy. We've just got a spicy one, that's all. Is that my cuppa?"

"It is, yes. Are you sure you're alright?"

"It's just a bite and a broken hand. It's not the first time. Well, maybe it's the first from the same resident, eh?"

Bradley laughed and, rather than it being a pained, tight jawed one, it sounded genuine.

"I guess he didn't last as long as we hoped."

"I guess not. Maybe next cycle."