CELL

/ ELEVEN /

"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?"