The Things We Hide at Home

by Nem Rowan

  His smile darkened. “You mean that nerdy old man is your boyfriend?”

  I nodded.

  “Tenny, you’ve really been undercutting yourself. You can do much better than that. That’s why I had to move in when he started infringing on my territory, see?” he told me in an oddly soothing tone. He sat on the edge of the bed so he could lean closer. “I thought it’d take you longer to realise that I’m much better for you, but you’ve surprised me.”

  “Well, I still do need a little persuasion,” I replied in a bid to reel myself in a bit. I didn’t want him to think I was moving too quickly and figure out I was lying.

  “Is that so? And what sort of persuasion would that be?” he asked, his eyes half-closed.

  “Maybe if I could touch you, it might give me a better idea of how I feel,” I suggested tentatively. I expected him to say “no.”

  “You want to touch me, do you? Does your boyfriend have a tiny dick?” he breathed, and I saw his organ twitch noticeably out of the corner of my eye.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s really small,” I fibbed. “That’s why I’m on top, because mine is bigger.”

  He let out a very entertained laugh, his sinister smirk stretching into a broad grin. “Then it makes sense that I’m dominant over you, doesn’t it.”

  “Yes, of course.” I was amazed by how entitled and skewed this man’s opinions were, that he thought I should be subservient to him because his penis was bigger than mine.

  “Has he got a job? What’s his income like?” With this change of subject, it became obvious his wage was an extension of his genitalia.

  “He doesn’t have a job. I think it’s because he’s too lazy to get one, to be honest. But even then, it’d probably be a really low-paying job.” I had to fight to keep my expression from sinking into one of repulsion at what I was saying.

  “How does a five-figure income sound to you?” he questioned.

  “Five figures? Wow.”

  “Eighty-five thousand a year,” he added, clearly impressed with himself. He seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice. “I’m a partner in one of the biggest architectural firms in the country. Next year, our company is expanding and that five-figure will become six.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m very impressed.”

  “Before, when I said I’d pay you, I meant it. I can buy you whatever you desire if you give yourself to me without any rules or restrictions. I don’t really like having you tied to the bed like this. I wanted you to want me.” This came as a surprise, despite everything else. “I want you to enjoy being fucked by me, and I’m more than willing to ease that with cash.”

  I pretended to consider his offer. There was no way on this planet I was going to enjoy being within ten feet of him, let alone having sex with him.

  “Well, like I said, I’d know for sure if I could touch you. I can’t do that while I’m tied like this.”

  “I can’t untie you. I know you’ll try to escape.” He frowned, his smile fading. “Do you really take me for an imbecile?”

  “Of course not. I won’t try to escape. Why would I want to run away from…you?” I trailed off as I looked at his erection.

  He scrutinized me, closely examining my face and peering into my eyes like he thought he could read my thoughts. I tried my best to maintain my serious expression. Inside, I was panicking, scared that he would figure me out, scared that he would suddenly go back to being violent and aggressive. There was also the fear that if my phone vibrated again, he would hear it.

  “If I untie you, you must do whatever I say. The gun is right there on the cabinet and so is my knife. If you try to escape, I’ll shoot you in the kneecaps. Do you understand?” He leered over me. I believed every word he said, but this was an opportunity I couldn’t back out of. If I wimped out, I guess I’d have to follow through my facade but I really hoped it wouldn’t go that way.

  “I understand. I promise I won’t run away,” I repeated. “Untie me so I can feel you with my hands. I can see you’re hard. Let me touch it. Let me make you feel good.”

  “Okay. Don’t make me regret it.”

  I held my breath as he began to free me, starting with my ankles, then moving to my wrists. As he began to undo the straps, my heart pumped so hard, it could have busted a rib. Sweat beaded my forehead and my whole body trembled with unspent adrenaline. This was it. This was my chance. If I fucked up, things could only get worse, but if it worked out, I could get out of here. I watched fixedly as my first hand was released, employing every fibre of my being to keep myself still as he carefully unbuckled the other.

  At last, the fourth cuff loosened.

  I lunged, swinging my clenched fist straight into the side of his head, sending him bouncing off the wall with a heavy thud. I had stunned him, but only momentarily. Snarling, he launched after me, leaping across the bed as I fled towards the waiting hatch, his arms outstretched and ready to grab me. The whiplash of the neck of my shirt yanked tight across my throat made me gag as he dragged me backwards and threw me hard off my feet, tumbling across the floor. My palms screeched on the polished wood until I was able to scramble to my knees, and that’s when I realised he was rushing towards the cabinet. Panting, I got up and flew towards him, throwing myself onto his back and knocking him to the ground, where he began to thrash beneath me in a bid to buck me off. I had no idea what I was doing. I grabbed him in a headlock and squeezed, bending him backwards and forcing his spine to arch. He wheezed, teeth gnashing like some kind of monster.

  “Pass out! Please pass out!” I cried, wishing he would stop writhing.

  Suddenly, something sharp pierced my knee and I looked down, discovering he had somehow acquired the knife from earlier. It was as I struggled to prise the knife from his hand that he managed to get free, his elbow striking me in the ribs. I rolled off, gasping. That’s when I felt a vibration in my pocket.

  I grabbed my phone. The screen was lit with David’s picture. I answered the call on speaker-phone just as my attacker smacked the device out of my hand, the glowing object shooting across the floor and hitting the wall.

  “David! Help! Call the police!,” I screamed, ducking and rolling out of the way as a razor-sharp blade cut through the air just centimetres from my face. “I’ve been abducted! Call the police!”

  “Shut up!” Dean bellowed as he chased me across the attic to where the phone had landed.

  “Help!” I shouted one last time as we both dived for the phone.

  My outstretched arm won out over his, but our combined force knocked the phone another few feet, where it vanished under the square bulk of the cabinet.

  I grabbed the floor lamp by its cable and swung it, the large glass object shattering against his head, leaving only the small bedside lamp to light the room. Dean shrieked, glass cutting his head and neck and crunching under his bare feet as he staggered after me, the knife in his hand flashing in the lamplight. I swiped a wooden baseball bat from his rack of torture equipment and swung. The thick truncheon whacked him straight across the forehead, his head snapping back and sending him off balance, where he stumbled and bumped into the wall. I struck again. And again. I couldn’t see or think straight; all I could do was fight back. It was only when he stayed on the ground that I lowered my weapon.

  Blood was streaming from his nose as he lay there naked and slumped on his side like a puppet without strings. I was breathing heavily and sweat soaked the back of my T-shirt.

  I couldn’t hear if David was still on the line but there was no way I could stay any longer to find out. I rushed towards the hatch.

  The house was in semi-darkness below. I slipped and skidded several rungs down the ladder as my legs had turned to jelly and my hands were violently shaking. The building was so big and had so many rooms that I had no idea how to get out. Ornaments and paintings adorned the walls, their shapes little more than silhouettes in the dim light. I found my way to the stairs, but before I could take a step, a loud bang frightened me into falling
back against the wall. I steadied myself, turning and looking at the smoking bullet hole in the plaster.

  Dean stood on the landing, nude and streaked with blood, pointing the gun at me. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t hurt me,” he said, sounding surprisingly calm.

  “Please, don’t do this,” I begged, knowing I had pushed him too far. “Please, just let me go, and we can forget this ever happened.”

  “I’m not letting you go. I told you. You’re staying here forever.” He limped closer.

  I flinched as he squeezed the trigger, the deafening discharge making me jump even though I knew it was coming. The bullet disappeared into the wall on my other side. His hands were quivering too much; he couldn’t get an accurate shot.

  “Dean, stop this! One of us is gonna end up getting killed,” I shouted, watching helplessly as he squeezed the trigger again. Only this time, it just clicked. No bang, no bullet entering my body. I didn’t wait around to find out why; I bolted down the stairs.

  Frantic, I ran through a vast room with modern furniture and expensive technology, desperate for a way out. I heard his scuffling footfalls hurrying after me as he cursed, enraged that his weapon had failed him. I wished I had brought the baseball bat with me. I slowed and hid ‘round the corner of a doorway, listening as he swore and flipped over a glass coffee table, the furniture smashing to pieces over the roar of him screaming. I needed to get away, but I knew that if I broke a window, he’d figure out where I was. I needed to immobilise him before I could do anything else, because the likelihood of striking lucky with an accidentally open window was pretty slim.

  As Dean continued moving across the room in my direction, I raced toward another room, a laundry room, one that had no other door besides the one through which I’d entered. His footsteps were growing closer and closer. My eyes searched for somewhere to hide; one of the cupboards would have to do. I opened the first one and discovered a washing machine, opened the second and was met by a tumbler dryer, but the third one had enough room for me to squeeze into. I shuffled in amongst the detergents and other chemical bottles, the slatted wooden door soundlessly swinging shut behind me. I could see the main doorway through the slats. My heart was beating so hard, I could hear my pulse thudding in my forehead. My eyes stung dry, my knee throbbed where he’d stabbed me, and my body ached from crouching so low, trembling, and trying not to knock anything over.

  His dark shadow passed by the doorway.

  “Tristen! Don’t hide from me I’m not gonna hurt you” Dean crowed. “Just come out and talk to me, Tenny. I know you can hear me”

  I held my breath as he leaned into the door of the laundry room and observed. He seemed to be checking for anything that might have been moved; I was relieved that I hadn’t touched anything besides the three doors of the cupboard.

  “Tristen!” he called again. I watched through the thin slats, feeling like his eyes were staring right at me. Every second he spent standing there was an eternity of nervous terror. I could see his nude body spattered with blood, and the weirdest thing of all was that his erection hadn’t gone away. He was enjoying this, hunting me on his own turf.

  At last, he disappeared, padding off down a hallway. When I heard him yelling into the next room, then another even farther down the hallway, I exhaled deeply amazed by the sheen of sweat that covered every inch of my skin and the large bloodstain on my ripped jeans, hiding my painful knee.

  I pushed open the cupboard door and inched out, checking that I wouldn’t knock anything over as I extracted myself from the rows of bottles and boxes. Washing powder stuck like grit to my elbows, but I didn’t care. I crept out of the room, checking that he wasn’t nearby before I soft-footed it along the hallway in the opposite direction of the shouting. I thought that if I could find my way to the garage, I could try to steal his car; the chances were he might have left the keys in the ignition. Because he kept calling out to me, I had a vague idea of how far away he was and that gave me courage to keep searching instead of running and hiding. I soon discovered a short stairway leading to an open set of double doors. This felt familiar. Panting, I jogged down the steps to meet with the dark space below, my hand slapping at the concrete wall in search of a light switch. As soon as my fingers touched it, I flicked it on. The cathode bulbs ticked and flashed, revealing two silver Aston Martins parked side by side.

  Really? He’d kidnapped me in a fucking luxury sports car? Like he thought no one would notice a car like that parked on the side of the road at Gerard’s house? Still, the thought of escaping from him in one of his expensive vehicles amused me somewhat. My heart still pounding, I rushed towards the nearest car and tried the driver door, relieved when it opened. I climbed in and searched for the keys but there were none; I checked the glove compartment, the sun visors, anywhere he might be lazy enough to leave them, but it seemed I was out of luck. I got out and went to the second car and checked there, too, to no avail.

  “You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to leave my keys in my cars, did you?” Dean cackled, the sound echoing through the garage.

  Still in the second car, I looked through the windscreen to find him standing in the doorway, another baseball bat in hand. He must have grabbed this one during his hunt. In a moment of panic, I shut the driver-side door and slammed my hand on the lock. The car made a series of clunks as the locks turned, securing every door.

  “If you want me, you’re gonna have to get your keys!” I shouted in defiance. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had at this point. At least if he went to fetch the key, he’d give me chance to find a way out of the garage, and if he returned with the key before I got outside, I could fight him for it and I’d have a solid method of escape.

  “As if I’d leave you on your own long enough to get them.” Even in the car’s interior, where sounds were muffled, I heard him clearly. He strolled along the width of the garage and stopped before the car, his eyes penetrating into me through the window as he raised the baseball bat.

  “No! No!” I shrieked as he swung, the end of the bat creating a spider-web crack in the windscreen right before my eyes. I clambered into the back seat, watching helplessly as he swung until the window finally shattered. He brushed aside shards of glass so he could climb onto the bonnet after me.

  “Come here, Tenny! I won’t play cat and mouse with you forever. Stop playing hard to get,” he cried as he struggled through the hole.

  My hands were shaking so badly, I had to fight to unlock the car door. Thankfully, he was only halfway through the hole, moving slowly because of all the sharp broken glass.

  I threw open the rear door, fleeing before he had a chance to grab me. I heard him cursing as he tried to climb out of the car. The bloody footprints he’d made showed me the pathways he’d walked as he’d scoured the house for me, so I followed them, zigzagging from room to room until I heard his voice again. I darted through the nearest doorway and hid again, this time in an office.

  Suddenly, I heard Dean yelling inside the house again. Eventually, his feet moved past the office and down the hallway. My ribs ached as I fought to hold my breath otherwise I’d scream. I had to arm myself right away.

  I looked around the room. A ladder was raised to the ceiling and some of the panels had been taken down; it appeared that Dean was in the process of remodelling. That’s when I spotted a toolbox on the desk in the centre of the space.

  I tiptoed closer, checking over my shoulder as I lifted the lid and peered inside. A claw hammer. I seized it immediately, just in time for Dean to come rushing through the open doorway at me, a samurai sword in hand. I had seen it mounted on one of the walls with other decorations earlier, but it had been too high for me to reach it.

  The shimmering sword whipped past me and clunked as it became embedded in the edge of the wooden desk. I turned, cracking the claw end of the hammer into the back of his thigh, the solid steel teeth sinking into his flesh. I ripped it free and left him howling in agony. I darted out of the room, fleeing
along the hallway, my knee throbbing.

  “Come back and fight, bitch!” he shrieked.

  He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me. My mind kept chanting that sentence over and over, the horror that he might take my life just to prevent me from leaving him close to tipping me over into hysteria. He must have recovered enough from the blow I’d given his thigh because I soon heard him running after me as I searched for an exit.

  “I’m not letting you get away, Tristen,” he howled down the corridor, causing a sob of anguish to escape through my clenched teeth.

  Suddenly, the hallway came to a dead end. There was no window and no stairway.

  I turned and found him getting closer and closer; I had to fight him, there was no other way out of it.

  “I don’t belong to you. I’m not an object for you to play with and own,” I screamed. “I’d rather be killed than submit to you!”

  His smile darkened as he lumbered down the hallway with sword in hand. I expected him to charge at me, but he didn’t.

  He grinned. “Do you want to be killed? Shall I cut you down where you stand?”

  “Not if I cut you down first,” I breathed, looking at the scarlet liquid that coated the hammer in my hand.

  “If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s working,” he uttered under his breath as he stepped closer.

  “You disgust me.”

  His smiled faded, his face becoming blank, his expression unreadable. I had no way of knowing what he intended to do next, and in some way, that frightened me even more. Perhaps it somehow worked in my favour, though. My eyes caught onto the muscle movement in his arm before he’d even lifted the sword, and in a moment of total instinct, I lashed out with the hammer, not giving him the chance to bury his blade in my torso, not giving him the chance to cut me down like he’d suggested.

  The steel claws of the hammer buried themselves into the side of his head before I ducked, nearly oblivious to the sensation of the sword slicing through the fabric of my T-shirt.