Scorch

by Nikki Rae

  “Why did you want to kneel for Marius?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  There was no use lying about it now, but admitting to the reasons was another matter. “I don’t know.”

  He shook his head, unwilling to accept my answer. “Yes, you do.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I settled into the leather behind me. Though I tried to appear as strong as possible, unwavering in keeping my secrets, inside I was crumbling.

  “Because I didn’t want to leave,” I said, unable to look at him and instead staring into the blurred world outside. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you again.”

  Master Lyon was silent, fingers nearly white against the wheel. “But you did.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “And you found me. Again.” Turning towards him, I found my Owner wasn’t as intent on our destination as before. “I can’t outrun you.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, and he tilted his head back towards the windshield. “You can try.”

  It wasn’t an invitation or threat, merely a fact we both knew couldn’t be disproved.

  I took it upon myself to steer the conversation back to a safer topic. “Marius tied me to the sofa in the living room. Then above the bed.”

  Of all the things I’d confessed to my Owner, this seemed to surprise him most. With a raised eyebrow, he asked evenly, “Did he, now?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Master Lyon’s gaze was further away, but from his mild expression, I gathered he was imagining all the many ways he’d accomplished this. “Were you scared?”

  Biting my lip, I shrugged. “A little. At first.”

  Up ahead, a familiar sign boasting gas, food, and bathrooms came into view and he turned off that exit, bypassing the service station for back roads. After a few minutes, he said, “Did he suspend you, or only tie you?”

  I didn’t know why he was so interested, but I was just glad to have him talking. I’d missed the sound of his voice, how his eyes expressed more than he liked when I caught him in a rare moment. “I…I’m not sure of the difference, sir.”

  Now he was the one who appeared uncomfortable, but he had started this. It was only right he gave as much as he took. “Suspension generally means to leave the ground. Or in your case, mattress.”

  He’d tried to get me to laugh, but all my tired lungs would allow was a soft sigh. “Oh,” I said simply. “No, we didn’t.”

  As if to comfort me, he massaged the back of my neck. When he caught himself a second later, he made it seem like he was just moving my hair away from one shoulder. “I’d love to show you that one day as well.” His hand floated back to the steering wheel, and I was under the impression he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “If you’d allow it.”

  I couldn’t look at him, too embarrassed that I liked the idea, that it was obvious on my face. I craved his touch, the indents left by the rope. Marius and my Owner would do it together, I assumed. Master Lyon would like me to believe I was safe, and when he couldn’t prove it, Marius knew how.

  When I closed my eyes, I could feel the belt around my neck, the ropes digging into my thighs.

  “Every breath belongs to me. The only reason your lungs fill with oxygen is because I allow it.”

  Sharp, biting glass embedded itself in my chest, refusing to let oxygen in or anything else out. Closing my eyes, I tried to contain the sick feeling in my stomach.

  “C-could we stop soon, please?” I didn’t want to sound like I was demanding anything of him, and I also didn’t want him to think anything was wrong. I was uncertain whether I’d succeeded with either. We hadn’t been driving for more than a few hours, but everything was spinning the longer we were on the move.

  Any hint of teasing was gone when my Owner next looked at me, probably noticing how all the color had drained from my face. “Do you feel all right?”

  “No,” was all I could get out, afraid if I spoke more, I would vomit.

  Without any more questions, Master Lyon slowed as he turned a corner, searching quickly for a patch of woods between two towns so he could pull over. My vision blurred as I struggled to breathe, hand gripping the handle when I knew I couldn’t leave the car without him disengaging the locks from his side.

  I didn’t make it far, and that wasn’t my intention as I crawled. Master Lyon kept close, but gave me space so I didn’t feel crowded, and I pressed my back against the hard bark of a tree as I waited for the world around me to stop tilting. It was dark, but I’d managed to sit in the line of the headlights. I needed to shield my face so I didn’t blind myself.

  When he was certain I wasn’t going anywhere, Master Lyon stepped back to the car and brought me a bottle of water, which I sipped as soon as I could get my hands to stop trembling. When that only seemed to make my stomach angrier, I handed it back to him and hung my head between my knees.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Of course it did. It would always hurt.

  “No,” I said on a shaky breath, swallowing the few tears that had snaked past my eyelids. “I feel a lot better now. I-I’m sorry.”

  My Owner crouched to brush my damp hair from my neck, blatantly staring at the faint mark he’d left there. Tenderly, he kissed that spot. He didn’t say anything, but the message was clear: mine.

  Holding out a hand, he helped me to my feet. I was relieved to find the dizziness had passed, and my stomach no longer flipped with the motion of the vehicle. He didn’t make me climb back inside, instead digging into his bag for a white T-shirt, which he wet with the rest of the water and used to cool my overheated skin.

  “I thought you weren’t having symptoms,” he said, leaning against the hood with me between his legs.

  “I wasn’t.” Taking the shirt from him, I used it to mop away the rest of the sweat. “I think I just don’t travel well.”

  Jaw relaxing, he appeared to accept my explanation. Tossing the shirt into the back seat, he watched me a while longer before deciding I was stable enough to step away. “It isn’t safe here, in the open.” His hand lingered on my arm, and it was the only thing that had alerted me to his concern. For a moment, he consulted his phone before replacing it in his pocket. “There is a place to stop an hour away. Do you think you can make it?”

  I nodded, unaware I’d been holding his hand or for how long. He didn’t need to urge me back into the passenger seat, and I slid in without protest. Master Lyon stood by the open door, making sure the worst had passed before he returned to his spot and we were back on the road.

  He kept an eye on me as we traveled, but I pretended not to notice him staring. It made me more apprehensive to know he was watching each nuanced expression or movement, and it was easier to stare outside.

  We stopped after a few minutes and a long, narrow building came into view. It was trailer-shaped but made out of shiny metal that reflected the pink and blue neon lights outlining every window and door. He chose a place in the back parking lot, amongst a group of large cargo trucks that looked as if they hadn’t been moved in years. From the street, no one would be able to see the car.

  “Wait for me,” he said as he turned off the engine, unbuckling himself and exiting. Still a little lightheaded from before, I was thankful he chose to hold my hand as he led me around the back, through the gate, and towards the entrance.

  The change from natural to artificial was jarring, pink bar stools across a white counter where people sipped milkshakes. Powder blue walls and a black and white checkered floor. Master Lyon picked the booth closest to the back, away from the rest of the patrons yet facing them so I didn’t see anyone but him.

  My eyes wandered to the walls, where nearly every inch of pastel paint was covered in memorabilia from the era, framed prints of celebrities of that time, and the odd cartoonish depiction of housewives in fluffy skirts serving a particular type of dinner rolls or selling some kind of product.

  At the Compound, most of our history lessons pointed to time periods like this. The age of women at home, devoted to not only their
husbands, but satisfied no matter the task. The fifties were particularly glorified by Members, and although the décor was gaudy and over the top, I’d seen muted versions of it in magazines and films the Compound allowed.

  My Owner must have noticed my wide eyes as I attempted to take it all in at once, and he’d most likely been taught some variation of the same lessons I’d learned. “We can go somewhere else if you prefer,” he said slowly, looking around the establishment. “I think I might be sick as well.”

  It was a joke, and even though I felt raw and empty inside, I genuinely laughed. “I like it,” I decided.

  The place was strangely familiar, like a childhood memory that was so far away I couldn’t be sure whether it was a dream.

  A waitress around my age approached our booth, and it was only now that I caught the retro clock behind her: a black cat with shifty eyes, displaying it was well past ten p.m. On the other end of the restaurant, I heard the door where we’d entered open and close with a chime. The girl’s dyed red hair was in a high ponytail secured with a pink ribbon. She wore a red and white striped dress, white apron, and a white paper hat pinned to her head. She would have looked the part if not for the thick, long cat-eyeliner.

  “In the future,” she said with a poor excuse for a friendly smile, “you should wait to be seated.”

  Handing us our bright menus, she began to recite a rehearsed introduction and then read off a selection of specials only college students could find appealing.

  My Owner acted as though he hadn’t heard her attitude as he dug into his pocket for the wad of cash he’d kept rubber-banded there our entire journey. He counted out five twenties—one hundred American dollars—then placed them on the table, sliding the bills in her direction.

  “We would like water and hot tea.” Master Lyon glanced at me to confirm that was what I wanted and I nodded. “Come back in ten minutes to take our order.”

  He was matter of fact, yet cordial as he spoke, and that seemed to make the waitress more nervous than the money. She didn’t think twice, stuffing it all into her apron pocket before shuffling off to retrieve our drinks.

  I watched her go, and when I turned back to my Owner, he was lifting his menu so I did the same. We settled into our seats a bit more once our beverages arrived; we were tired, thirsty, and hungry. All these luxuries I’d been deprived of before, but now I had someone with which to share the experience. Most of the items available to us were gimmicky meals filled with heavy ingredients I didn’t think I could keep down. Overwhelmed, I shut the menu and placed it beside his on the table.

  “Could you please choose for me?” I asked, staring at the steam rising from a metal pitcher of water the waitress had left. She’d also returned with a box of assorted paper-wrapped teabags—which I doubted she would have done had it not been for Master Lyon’s added incentive.

  Combined, these things formed the image of Marius finding me in my room, unable to decide which books to bring with me as I packed like the wrong selection would end my world as I knew it.

  “Already done,” he said, interrupting my train of thought.

  Then Master Lyon moved the box of tea to his side of the table, carefully making his selection. I didn’t see the label, only the word “decaffeinated” in the middle. I wanted to protest and tell him I was fine, that I needed some help waking up, but this was what I’d asked for.

  His decisions, whether I agreed with them or not, came from a place of love. A selfishness he wouldn’t apologize for. He’d always chosen the lesser of evils, from the simplest of situations to the most complicated.

  I hoped he trusted me just as much; that our love could withstand the storm I was about to unleash upon our House.

  Sixteen

  After we’d been served our meals, the waitress disappeared. Though she was obviously grateful for the money he’d given her, his brusque, dismissive attitude whenever she returned to the table was enough to make her keep her distance except for when we needed refills.

  “Do you need me to feed you as well, Fawn?”

  I’d been staring at my bowl of soup, the plastic-wrapped crackers sitting on the dish beneath. He hadn’t asked this to embarrass or threaten me. It was a real question, and he wanted me to know it was safe to give him the real answer.

  The transparent broth looked nothing like what Marius had made me when I’d fallen from Master Lyon’s horse, but I thought about it all the same. How even then, Master Lyon would do anything to prevent me from leaving. The reasons might have changed, but my Owner was steadfast in this.

  He’d ordered himself the same meal, and as if to encourage me, he unwrapped his crackers and crushed them into his bowl.

  “I’ll talk to you if you give me what I want.”

  My fingers felt like they didn’t belong to me as I clutched my spoon against the pink paper napkin. No matter how numb I was on the inside, I couldn’t let it show in my appearance or actions. If I wanted to save my family, that was who I needed to be. Someone who had given up on running.

  I sipped the Coke he’d ordered for me and without tasting anything, I proceeded to finish my meal. My stomach was much better once I was done, and I didn’t know whether it was caused by the food or the ability to finally shut off my mind from what was really happening.

  The waitress only came back when she’d seen we were done, asking if we’d like dessert and us declining in favor of more tea and coffee. She didn’t bother bringing us the bill; we’d more than covered it. I could see why people were drawn to my Owner. He made one feel powerful, invincible, when they were around him. What was more, he knew what he was doing and made no apologies for it.

  She returned with more hot water at the same time the bell over the entrance announced another customer. Rolling her eyes, the waitress glanced towards the other end of the restaurant. “We close in twenty minutes,” she said with no false politeness. “If you already know what you want, have a seat and I’ll be with you in a second.”

  Sighing, she pivoted back towards us. Master Lyon’s gaze traveled past her, and I assumed it was so he could see around the tall booth to get a look at the newest patrons. As the girl delivered first my beverage and then his, my Owner motioned for her to come closer without taking his eyes away from me. His expression had become sharp, but he hid it well as he whispered in her ear and slid another wad of cash into her apron pocket. The action was strangely intimate, yet he didn’t react at her wink as she walked away.

  “We need to go,” Master Lyon whispered as soon as she’d headed for the other side of the diner, tugging my hand. “Move slowly.”

  I strained my eyes to see what he was looking at, but he was helping me from the seat before I could. While he pulled me towards the bathrooms, he tucked me into his side as if shielding me. He didn’t let go until we were through a different exit, which turned out to open to the parking lot where we’d left the car.

  “The windows are tinted,” he said as he guided me into the back seat. “We haven’t been spotted, and the vehicle is undercover.”

  I stared at him, wide-eyed and uncomprehending of what that meant. “Is someone after us?”

  “The waitress bought us time,” Master Lyon explained, “but we’ll need to stay here until they leave.”

  “Who?” I forced from my mouth.

  To this point, we’d both been crouching between the seats, and he set me down on the cushion while he stayed where he was. I remembered for a split second that I was without underwear, but it was a fleeting thought overpowered by everything else.

  “I don’t know,” my Owner eventually said, distracted by the diner. From our distance, the glow of pink and blue lights reflected soft neon hues across our faces as we stared outside. “A man was speaking to others as if questioning them. It could very well be nothing.”

  It was meant to reassure me, but the possibility of Mainworld authorities, the Order, or someone else waiting so nearby was unnerving. Ultimately, it didn’t matter who was trying to find us; n
o one could have me, even if I was willing to go with them. Master Lyon had made that mistake with his wife, and he wasn’t eager to repeat it with me. All he had left.

  “We might be here a little while,” he said, sitting beside me and blocking much of the window with his shoulder. “We’re safe here.” Hesitant at first, he slipped his arm behind my back. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Why aren’t we speeding away?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but once I had, I couldn’t hold back. “They could find us.”

  He brought a finger to his lips, glancing out the window. “They won’t.”

  I clenched my jaw; there was no use arguing. As Marius had said: right now, he couldn’t see past losing me. He was the one who had accepted the role as my Owner, and that meant he knew what was best, always. Even when he was wrong.

  I brought myself closer, hiding myself with his body like he’d done inside. I was unable to protest and unable to run, and if these were our last moments together, I’d rather spend them like this.

  Master Lyon stroked my hair as we waited, and I only glanced over his shoulder when his muscles tensed. Even then, it was the few customers I’d seen sitting at the counter, heading to their separate cars. It must have been late by the time the employees entered the parking lot, the interior lights of the restaurant going black while the neon outlining the building remained a beacon in the dark.

  My Owner straightened as we both watched a man in a black suit follow them, stepping into a car which had appeared to be waiting. I didn’t recognize the person, nor what side they had come from. I was only grateful that we’d evaded them for now.

  He leaned my head against him as the rest of the vehicles cleared out, the sound of muffled music trailing into the night as they merged onto the main road beyond.

  Master Lyon tried to conceal a deep sigh with little success. He seemed just as relieved as I was.

  If I was to be separated from my House and family, it would be on my own terms.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered even though we were the only souls for miles, no sound but crickets in the summer heat. I hadn’t realized he’d let go of me and tried to move away, but I clung to him.