by Myers, Kelly
You mean when I was tending to his erection? When I gave him free pleasure? Of course…it was authentic. Like the rush, you get from cocaine or the high that weed produces, soothing your raging nerves and slowing down your thoughts.
When was the last time you enjoyed some herb?
It must have been college. That feels like it was forever ago.
You feel old?
I feel defeated.
Go to sleep.
I want to die.
What good are these wishes now? You can’t do anything about this situation, and you can use your strength later.
What strength?
I continue to cry, kicking and flailing my hands about as the chains leave bruises and abrasions across my skin. Penance has never felt so far away. Gabriel succeeded, and I am now completely and utterly broken.
It doesn’t matter now. Just close your eyes.
Even in the darkest of moments, my mind manages to display the steamiest of flashbacks in my head. I squeeze my eyelids shut, but the images remain.
Gabriel’s body next to mine.
His arms around me.
Eyes gazing into my soul.
I shake my head and scream so loud that my throat hurts, and my voice eventually fades into nothingness.
Nobody can hear you.
23
Gabriel
It’s eight-thirty, and I have taken my shower and changed into a business suit. Ready to go, something tells me that I should pay Dina a quick visit and see if there’s any progress in terms of her decision.
On my way out of the elevator, I run into Ramone.
“Good morning,” I continue walking, and he turns and walks beside me.
“Morning. Listen, I found her sleeping, but she’s not looking too good.”
I stop next to the door and turn to him. “What do you mean?”
“She hasn’t eaten anything since she got here, and now she’s all pale and…a little cold.”
“What the fuck?” I proceed to unlock the door.
“She’s breathing,” he quickly explains.
I turn to him with raised eyebrows, seeing red. “Fantastic!” I push the door open and rush inside.
Lying peacefully on her side, it looks as though she’s in a deep slumber. She seems smaller than a couple of hours ago. More fragile. Delicate. Like an angel that has just fallen down to Earth with no idea what mortal life is like. I see that he has refitted her with the blindfold, so I bend over to remove it.
“Key,” I extend my hand without looking.
“But, Gabri—”
“Key!” I repeat, louder this time.
He puts the key in my hand, and I hear him walking outside. Doubtlessly, he’s being careful about his identity.
Impatiently, I unlock the belt around her head and pull it away, shaking her as I do. “Dina,” I softly slap her cheek. “Dina? Dina, c’mon this isn’t funny.”
Ramone soon returns with his mask on. “Gabriel—”
“Dina!” I slap her harder, and her body is limp in my hands without a single twitch. “Call Reeves.”
“But he—”
“Call Reeves!” I shout, turning to him with a fiery glare.
“Okay,” he dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, walking out of the room.
I return to my unconscious victim, whose skin is cold as ice. I lower my cheek to her nostrils. Her breathing is faint, but at least there’s something. I place my fingers on her wrist and feel no pulse at all, so I move to the side of her neck and hold my breath. Focusing, I can barely feel her heartbeats.
“C’mon, Dina,” I mindlessly take her hands in mine, rubbing them as if it will provide enough warmth to pull her out of this state.
Clearly, it’s never going to work this way.
“Ramone!” I shout, and he comes back running, holding the phone to his ear.
“Yes, doc. Yes, please. Thank you,” he hangs up, my panic evidently contagious. “He’s coming right away.”
“When?”
“He’s leaving now.”
“When?”
“He said twenty minutes!”
“That’s too fucking long,” I try to think fast. I have no medical background and never had to deal with a case like this in my life.
Seeing her lying there motionless reminds me of dark times I paid thousands of dollars to forget. But in an emergency like this, I’m known to land on my feet.
Think.
Without further hesitation, I bend over and slide my arms underneath her. Almost weightless when I pick her up, she can’t be heavier than a hundred-and-ten pounds.
“Sir,” he removes his mask and stares at me with the corner of his eye. “I don’t think—”
“There’s no time for your thoughts right now,” I interrupt him, hurling out of the room and rushing to the elevator.
He quickly follows me, pressing the call button to help. “Where are you taking her?”
“Someplace warm,” I shrug as I step inside, careful not to accidentally hit her head. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“We didn’t know she’d refuse to eat.”
“Stop trying to justify this and get me Elena on the phone.”
He dials the number and holds the device to my ear as I step out into the corridor, heading upstairs.
“Hello, Elena. It’s Gabriel.”
“Hello,” my housekeeper sounds surprised.
“Listen carefully. There’s a security emergency, and I need you and everyone to evacuate immediately.”
“But, dinner?” she objects.
I race toward my bedroom, and Ramone gets it, so he accelerates his steps and moves ahead, opening the door wide for me to pass.
“Forget about dinner,” I sternly order. “And the house is clean. Nobody needs to work today. It’s paid leave. Ten minutes, everybody out.”
Ramone quickly picks up the edge of the blanket, tossing it to the side as I carefully put Dina down, resting her head on my pillow.
“Are you okay?” my housekeeper inquires.
“Elena,” I grunt. “time is of the essence here. Action now, explanations later.”
“Okay, boss, whatever you say.”
“Goodbye.”
Ramone pulls the phone away as I cover Dina’s body, leaving nothing visible but her head. I then rush toward the closet and pull open the doors, taking out an additional quilt and another blanket. I feel his eyes watching me as I place the layers over her, one after the other.
“Heating?” he steps toward the panel by the door.
“Yes,” I can’t take my eyes off of her face.
She seems so serene, which makes my heart pound harder in my chest. What if she really is dying?
“Now what?” Ramone stands next to me, looking perplexed.
“Go downstairs,” I speak quickly. “make sure everyone’s gone. The only two people I need inside this house are you and Reeves.” I pause, sitting down at the edge of the bed and glancing in his direction. “While you’re down there, call him again. See where he is now.”
“You got it,” he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
“I guess we’re alone now?” I whisper. The same line she said to me last night.
Unable to think straight, my mind falls prey to worst-case scenarios. If this woman dies, I will never forgive myself. It is all my fault and mine alone. I should have forced her to eat. I should have tried harder to convince her. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of her attraction to me and…
I single-handedly damaged this woman.
Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I launch the messenger and text Amanda.
Good morning. Guess I won’t make it to the office today, either. Same protocol, please.
She soon responds.
Is everything okay over there? Do you need me? Sometimes a woman can get into another woman’s head better than a man ever could.
Everything is under control. We just need more time. How is it on th
e communications front?
It’s so much easier now with the app. I take her calls, and people have no idea.
No issues with certain words or methods of speech?
Not really. I’m doing the whole busy thing, so I keep it quick and short.
Perfect. You’re a lifesaver. Thanks, Mandy.
You’re welcome, boss.
The door cracks open without a knock, and Ramone rushes in, followed by Chris Reeves, my personal physician.
“Morning,” he curiously eyes Dina’s still body while his hands place his medical bag on the bed. “Let’s see what we have here. Ramone, will you excuse us?”
“Of course.”
Chris then turns to me with a suspicious look in his eyes. “Name?”
“Dina.”
“Age?”
“Thirty-one…I think.”
“What happened?” he places a digital watch around her wrist and holds up her hand, his eyes completely focused on the little black screen.
“Starvation. Cold.”
“Pre-existing conditions?”
“Only mental.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “Like?”
“I’m not sure,” I quickly shake my head. “She took meds for it.”
“What was she doing when she fainted?”
“I—I don’t know, we found her like this.”
“Do you know when her last meal was?”
“Possibly a couple of days.”
He gently puts down her hand and lifts up his gaze to me, silently questioning. “Okay,” he sighs, turning to his bag and taking out a folding IV pole. “Here’s what I’m going to do…”
He takes a clear glass bottle and a clear plastic bag with fluids in them and quickly starts setting everything up, his hands skillfully working at the speed of light, inserting a cannula into her tiny hand and attaching the tubes together. When he’s sure that the drip is working properly, he turns to me and stares deeply into my eyes.
“I’m not going to ask you what happened here because I know your mind, and you won’t tell me,” he dips his head a notch, looking at me from under his eyebrows. “But I’ll believe you if you tell me that none of this…was done on purpose.”
“It wasn’t,” I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache creeps into this fateful mix. “It was an accident.”
“Gabriel,” his voice grows louder as his eyes plead for the truth.
“On my mother’s grave, Chris, I swear to you,” I press my palms together. “I wasn’t trying to kill her.”
He chuckles in disbelief, spinning on his heel and turning to look out the window. “So, it’s come to this?” He pauses before turning back to me. “That’s your benchmark?”
I narrow my eyes, pointing a finger at him. “That’s the first thing you thought of, and you know it.”
“Yes!” he shakes his head and nods at the same time as his eyes widen. “And I was hoping—as your friend—to hear something along the lines of…I don’t know…‘we found her by the side of the road’ or…‘we rescued her from a potential rapist’—anything!”
“You’re upset because I’m not lying to you,” I chuckle, putting one hand in my pocket while the other slowly wipes my mouth. “that’s a first.”
“When did you see her last before this happened?”
“Six-twenty in the morning.”
A snide grin suddenly draws itself up on his lips, and he looks away. “Motherfucker,” he whispers and chuckles, running his fingers through his hair. He then turns to me with his eyebrows in a knot. “You fucked her?”
“She was awake,” I hiss, stepping closer, barely restraining myself from punching him in the face.
“I sure hope so,” he enunciates with his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on me.
“Is that what you think of me?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore, Gabriel. I’ve known you since we were kids, but all I can see now is how you’re spiraling from just a crazy dude to completely insane!”
I draw a sharp breath and drag it deeper, giving myself a second to collect my thoughts. Now is not the time to argue. “Try to level with me, Chris,” I lower my voice. “Is she going to be okay?”
He rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head in resignation. “It’s hypoglycemia mixed with dehydration,” he explains. “The IV is feeding her what’s necessary for her organs to function. Two days shouldn’t lead to any permanent damage if she’s otherwise healthy. But it won’t be a quick recovery. She can’t be exposed to cold weather, and you shouldn’t feed her anything solid today.”
“When can I expect her to wake up?”
“Anywhere between an hour to eight, depending…has she been sleeping at least?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure.”
The look of sheer disappointment in his eyes renders me feeling incompetent. “Dina, you said?”
“Yes.”
He stares down at a random spot on the rug underneath our feet before turning to look at her. “Call me when she wakes up,” he starts collecting his things.
“Where are you going?”
“My practice?” he fleetingly glances in my direction before violently zipping his bag shut. “Remember that, you self-centered asshole?”
“How much do you make in a day? I can—”
“Treat my patients for me?” he interrupts.
“That’s—”
“Listen,” he lifts up his hand before dropping it, squeezing his eyes shut as he scrunches his nose and hisses. “Dammit, Gabriel…okay, this woman needs monitoring. Can you just fucking do that until I’m done with my appointments for the day?”
“What if something happens?”
“Then you’d better pray that an ambulance is faster than I am.”
24
Dina
Before I open my eyes, I turn in place, and my hands and feet are free. The smooth fabric teases my skin as my head stirs against a lush pillow, and I’m convinced that this is a dream. Slowly, I force my eyelids apart, and the first thing I see is a wall-wide window overlooking an endless vista of blue skies adorned with white, fluffy clouds. I can’t see the sun and have no idea what time it is.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I begin to feel a slight sting in my hand. It takes superhuman effort for me to lift it up to see a cannula attached. I gasp and try to get up, failing, however, as my head drops back onto the pillow.
“Wha—” I can’t finish a word. That’s how weak I feel.
My eyes follow the narrow, translucent tube to an attached bag that drips what seems to be some sort of medical fluid. I try to read what’s written on it, but my eyes fail to grant me enough focus.
“Hello?” It comes out as a whisper, so I try again, attempting once more to push up my head and torso to no avail. “Hello?” I raise my voice an octave as my vision gradually improves. The label reads 10% Dextrose.
That’s sugar, right?
Have I fainted? The last thing I remember was crying myself to sleep after… oh, right. That happened.
I run my other hand under the covers and along the soft sheets. My fingers reach my waist, and I realize that I’m fully dressed. However, these don’t feel like my clothes. Lifting up the covers just a touch, I look down and see that I’m wearing button-down silk pajamas. They’re a shiny shade of black and feel like butter.
“Gabriel?” I whisper, not fully sure of what to think next.
Turning my head, my eyes continue to study the room I’m in. It’s vast and spacious with a lot of sunlight and even more intriguing details. The canopy bed I’m in is fitted with sheer black net curtains dangling down from its stern wooden frame, decorated with captivating Victorian designs.
At the opposite end of the room, I see a massive ornately framed mirror with a black and silver finish. My eyes move upward to appreciate the tiered, cascading chandelier at the center of the ceiling, also in black. The walls are white, lined with large textured tiles from floor to ceiling. The o
verwhelming whiteness only being interrupted by the occasional gothic ornament strategically placed on the walls “Where am I?” my eyebrows are still in a knot as a splitting headache seeps through my head, pulsating in a band around my head.
Still, in a daze, I give it another shot and plant my hands firmly against the mattress, pushing up my weight until I’m sitting upright. As I slowly move my legs toward the edge of the bed, my muscles tremble, but I force it anyway.
The door suddenly flails open, and in comes Gabriel, donning a flawless designer suit and a black tie. He puts down a plate on the side table by the door and comes closer. The only thing I can now smell is his heady cologne that turns my insides upside down. I instantly lift up my free hand. “Stay away,” I faintly warn.
“I’m here to help,” he whispers.
Quickly shaking my head and turning away, I cover my nose and mouth with my hand as my heart beats faster. “Your cologne,” I barely force out the words. “I’m gonna throw up.”
As I repeatedly swallow my own saliva, an unconscious attempt at keeping things down—what things? I have no idea—I hear his rushed steps before he quickly springs into my field of vision, crouching down with a trash can in his hand. He swiftly places it on the floor right underneath me, and as I begin to hurl, he sits on the edge of the bed next to me, holding my hair back.
If I previously thought that giving in to whatever twisted desires I had earlier was the low point, Gabriel Palanick has also just seen me vomit. I have just hit absolute rock bottom.
The bitter taste in my mouth, mixed with the occasional gag, renders my eyes watery as a few hot tears roll down my face. His hands let go of my hair, and one of them gently finds its way to my cheek, tenderly wiping it away before he hands me a tissue.
“You should have known better than to sit up right away,” he whispers as he reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand next to me, twisting the cap. “Drink.”
I shake my head, roughly wiping my eyes and mouth.
“Drink,” he orders, and my shaky hand grabs the water, apprehensively holding it up to my mouth.
His hand supports the bottle as my fingers threaten to let go, and I slowly sip. The cool sensation running down my throat is somewhat welcome, washing down the burning sensation that my stomach acid has left behind. I lower the bottle, and he immediately takes it, holding it near as he leans closer. “Are you dizzy?”
