by Dori Lavelle
He takes me to the kitchen and lowers me into the same chair I had occupied yesterday.
“I’ll get the maid,” he says and disappears from the kitchen again. The sound of that word makes me sick to my stomach.
An invisible dagger plunges into my heart at the sound of my sister crying. I hear her pain before I get to see her again.
She looks even more broken than yesterday, her face crumpled, her eyes swollen and red, her skin pale. She reminds me of the time she was going through the chemo treatments. Those treatments had always weakened her so much that she became a shell of herself.
He helps her into one of the chairs and turns the chair to face me. “Emma, tell her what you want for breakfast.”
Christa watches me with empty eyes, waiting for me to respond. I can’t. As much as I want to obey Dax, I cannot bring myself to treat my sister like a maid.
“I’m not hungry,” I mumble under my breath.
“Come on, babe. You must be starving. You didn’t get much to eat yesterday. How about something light? You’ll not be inconveniencing anyone. I’m sure it won’t be hard for the maid to figure out how to cook over an open fire.”
Christa’s eyes meet mine, questioning. I know what she’s thinking.
Ignoring us, Dax goes to the fridge. He removes eggs and several other ingredients that could be used to make breakfast. He dumps everything on the table in front of Christa.
“Well, if you’re not hungry, I am. Get up and make breakfast, slave,” he barks.
It takes all my strength not to jump to my feet and attack him for calling my sister a slave. But am I ready for the consequences?
I suppress a shudder as he leads us to the kitchen area he had set up outside.
He positions Christa in front of the three stones, which now frame a small mountain of ashes.
From where I’m sitting, I’m humiliated at the sight of my sister’s bare behind. I don’t even want to imagine how she feels. Dax uses nakedness to make us weak and vulnerable.
Dax pulls a box of matches from his pocket and hands them to Christa. When he brings a pan from the kitchen and balances it on top of the stones, Christa stares at the fireplace in disbelief. She’s a chef by profession, and I know she will be able to pull it off, but I’m certain she didn’t expect to be cooking over an open fire. I hope she will remember her skills from when we went camping during school.
“What are you waiting for?” Dax barks.
Christa glances at me briefly, then drops to her knees in front of the stones.
It takes her a while to make the fire, and Dax offers her no help. He doesn’t even remove the handcuffs to make the job easier.
I want to jump from my chair, to turn on Dax. But I remind myself of what he said last night. If she dies, it will be my fault.
As though she can feel my pain, Christa looks at me again and gives me the tiniest of nods. Without words, she’s sending a message to me, assuring me she’s fine. I sigh with relief when I finally see a glow between the rocks with a small flame dancing from it. The smoke rises into her eyes and she blinks away the burn.
“What’s taking you so long?” Dax jams a hand into his hair.
“It’s hard for her,” I whisper, but he’s close enough to hear the words.
“That’s it. I’ve had it with you.” He lunges at me and pulls me to my feet by the neck. “Looks like it’s time for you to get a taste of the dungeon.”
He uses his free hand to grab Christa by the apron. The next moment, we’re both stumbling forward into the kitchen, bumping against furniture. I hate that it’s not the final destination. I don’t even have a chance to warn Christa about the dungeon.
In the hallway, Dax plants his hands between our shoulder blades and pushes us forward. Sometimes we bump against walls, other times into each other. Neither of us makes a sound, fearing he would punish us more.
The closer we come to the dungeon, the harder it becomes for me to breathe. Anxiety gnaws at my insides when I think of Christa entering the dungeon. She’s even more terrified of snakes than I am.
When we get to the door of the dungeon, Dax shoves us forward so hard we drop to our knees. He leaves us on the floor until he has unlocked the door, then one after the other, he pulls us to our feet and throws us into the prison.
I choke back a scream. Christa still doesn’t make a sound, but I know she will once the lights go on. If only I could keep her in the dark.
I’m already shifting from foot to foot, aware of the danger underneath my feet.
I’m not sure if it’s only in my head, but I think I hear the sound of snakes hissing. The thought that there might be some holes in the glass causes me to pant in terror.
“Each time one of you misbehaves, you will both be punished,” his voice booms from the other side of the door. At the same time, the light goes on and Christa finally sees the snakes. She jumps to her feet so fast that she falls back down, only to scramble back up again to get away from the snakes. But there’s no escape.
Something about the sight of snakes makes me want to throw up again, my stomach clenching and unclenching. I refuse to give in to the urge. Christa cannot see my weakness. I have to be strong for both of us.
We both huddle by the door, the sound of Christa’s sobs shredding my heart. She grabs the door handle and tries to lift herself off the floor with its help, but the handle is too small and she’s much too weak to hold on for long.
We both turn to the sound of something sliding open. For the first time I notice a small glass window not too far from the door. Dax’s face appears, his features shrouded in smoke. “How do you like that?” He lowers the cigarette from his lips.
While Christa presses herself against the door, I close my eyes, reminding myself that the danger is on the other side of the glass. As long as the glass is intact, the snakes cannot hurt us.
When I open my eyes again, Dax is gone and Christa is leaning into me for the protection I don’t have the power to give.
“Don’t look down,” I say quickly, but her eyes are still glued to the floor.
Sweat breaks through her pale skin as she pushes herself against the wall. The look on her face will haunt me forever. I’ve never seen her so afraid; she looks about to pass out. Guilt stabs me in the chest.
What have I done to her? What if she doesn’t survive this ordeal?
Chapter Nine
Long after Dax throws us into the dungeon, Christa’s fear still consumes both of us. Exhausted from jumping up and down, she’s now huddled in a crumpled heap next to me. Even though she has figured out that it’s less terrifying to look up instead of down, her body still twitches and shifts from time to time, desperate for escape.
Despite being only a few inches away from each other, we’re not touching.
Dax is back at the window, watching us. He doesn’t look like he’s planning to leave anytime soon.
I ache to break the handcuffs and pull my sister into my arms, to hold her tight, to assure her that she doesn’t have to be afraid, that I will protect her. But I can’t do that with him watching us like a hawk.
I’m desperate to talk to Christa, to hear her voice. I have no idea what I would say to her, and I’m nervous to hear what she has to say. I fear she might point out the obvious, that it’s all my fault. At the same time, I want her to say something so she can feel like a normal person again.
Sooner or later Dax will disappear from the window to get something to eat or use the bathroom. Or he would simply get bored with watching us. When he does, I will grab the chance to connect with Christa.
At the thought of Dax going to the bathroom, my bladder starts to complain. The urge to urinate is so intense tears spring to my eyes. As his prisoner, I’m only allowed to use the toilet twice a day, once in the morning and before bed.
When the stench of urine reaches my nostrils, I think it’s mine. But it’s not. I’m still hanging in there. The smell must be coming from Christa. My heart goes out to her. I�
�ve been there, I have been so terrified that I wet myself. I’d felt the same humiliation she probably feels now.
Dax finally disappears from the window and I let out a breath of relief.
My hands are clasped in my lap as I listen to his footsteps fading down the hall. I have no idea whether there are cameras in here, if he will see what I’m about to do, but I can’t stop myself.
I scoot closer to Christa until our bodies touch, pressed into each other in some form of awkward hug.
“We’ll survive this, sis. I won’t let him kill us. I’ll get us out of here.” I pray that I’ll be able to keep my promise to her, that we won’t leave this farm in body bags.
I press my forehead against her damp cheek, her tears gluing us together.
Without thinking, I reach up and tug at the corner of the tape on her mouth. It takes a few tries before it lets go of her skin. I don’t remove it completely, only enough for her to be able to get some words out. I have no idea how long she has been silenced for and I want to give her a chance to feel a bit human again before Dax returns.
“Oh, my God,” she says, her voice breaking. “Oh, my God.”
“I know, Christa. I know. But we can’t panic right now. We have to stay strong.”
“I’m scared.” Her voice is so small she sounds like a frightened child. “I don’t want to die, Emma. I don’t—”
“You won’t. I won’t let that happen.” My hands clutch her arm. “I’ll get you out of here.”
As soon as I hear the footsteps again, a sign that Dax is coming back, I quickly put the tape back in place. She doesn’t struggle, but her body tenses up and she’s blinking furiously.
I move away from her before Dax arrives, then I bring my hands to my lap again and stare straight ahead at the empty wall in front of me, trying to ignore the deadly snakes lurking beneath us. It’s hard to ignore the deadliest of them all, the one on the other side of the door.
When I feel his presence back at the small window, I don’t want to, but I find myself turning to look. My furious eyes meet his head on and he smiles. Then, he steps away. As soon as his face disappears out of sight, the light goes out. Christa starts to struggle again.
The fear I had been stifling suddenly explodes in my body, but I do my best to pull myself together. If Christa senses my fear, hers will shoot to another level.
It’s a struggle to keep it together when there are dangerous creatures beneath my feet, some of them brushing against the glass. What if the glass is not strong enough to carry our weight and it somehow cracks?
I glance at the window where Dax had been standing. No one is there.
I can’t help thinking that he knows I spoke to Christa. Maybe he even heard every word I said to her. Maybe leaving us in the dark is the punishment. I have a feeling he will stay away for a while.
I bite hard into my bottom lip and slide myself against the wall on my way to Christa. I should probably stay where I am, but my body refuses to listen to my head. I need to be near her, to comfort her the best I can.
When I get to her, I lean into her body. “I’m so sorry,” I utter through my tears. “I’m really sorry, Christa.”
In response to my words, she presses her cheek to mine. Her body has stopped trembling now, as though the darkness has calmed her down a bit. Maybe it helps that she no longer has to see the snakes. It must be easier for her to imagine they’re not there. It is for me.
“He won’t kill us,” I repeat, hoping she will believe me. “We’ll get back home, okay?”
I want to hear her response, to know whether she trusts me, but it’s too risky for me to remove the tape again, even though that would only be one rule of the many I have already broken.
Christa responds by resting her head on my shoulder. That’s enough for now.
After a few minutes, I move away in case Dax switches the light back on.
Nothing happens for a long time and then suddenly, I detect a change in the air. It’s cooler, much cooler. It reminds me of the time on the yacht when Dax sucked warmth out of my room to punish me. Is he doing the same thing now? He must be because the temperature seems to be dropping at a fast rate. From Christa’s increased whimpers, I know she feels it too.
Now that circumstances have changed, I return to her and we huddle up together again, this time in search of warmth.
On the other side of the wall, we hear laughter. He must be watching, as I suspected he would. It’s a small relief that he’s not returning to pull us apart.
“I love you, Christa,” I whisper into the darkness. “Whatever happens, remember that I love you. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.”
Christa is trembling now, and no matter how close we get to each other, how much I wish I could keep her warm, it doesn’t work. She’s making desperate, inaudible sounds behind the tape as if she’s trying to tell me something. Maybe she wants me to know that she loves me too, that she forgives me.
I close my eyes tight, only to open them again when his laughter grows louder. He’s coming back.
I pull away from Christa immediately but it’s too late. The light is back on and his face is at the window.
“Since you still haven’t learned your lesson, you’ll be spending the rest of the day and night in there.” Still laughing, he allows darkness to fall again. The sound of his footsteps follows him down the hallway.
A few minutes later, the same music he had tortured me with on the yacht, pours into the room, louder than I’ve ever heard it before, so loud that my head aches from listening to it.
Christa is screaming behind the tape. I don’t need to hear her to know that. Her pain pierces through me like a sword.
I press my hands between my legs, trying to get my thighs to warm me up. Dax is just getting started. I know that better than anyone else. Am I really strong enough to handle whatever will come next or am I kidding myself?
This time it’s Christa who comes to me, her cool hands touching my arm. She clutches onto my hands, reminding me of how things used to be when we were kids. When mom and dad fought, she always came to my room to comfort me, like she’s doing now. I’m her little sister again, terrified of the monsters in the dark. Only this time, the monsters are also in the light. They are real.
As time passes, and we continue to hold on to each other, sleep starts to pull me under. It’s a good thing. If I fall asleep, maybe time would speed up. On the other hand, I’m also terrified of being unconscious with deadly creatures near me. What if Dax breaks the glass while I’m sleeping and I wake up to the bite of a snake?
But when sleep is determined to knock you out, it’s hard to fight it. Finally, my eyes close without me even knowing it.
When I open them again, I have no idea how much time has passed, but the air is a touch warmer and instead of complete darkness, the light is being switched on and off over and over again. One look at Christa tells me something has changed in her.
Her body is present, but she’s staring into space, no longer reacting to what’s going on around her. I nudge her a little, but she still doesn’t move. The good news is, she’s still breathing. Maybe it’s best to allow her to handle the shock in her own way, by checking out for a while.
Right now, I wish I could do the same. But it wouldn’t be a good idea for both of us to escape into our minds. I have to stay on guard. Since I’m the one who started all this in the first place, I should be the one who stays back to fight the war.
Chapter Ten
When the light stops flashing and the music dies, I’m just as numb as Christa, staring into space like a zombie, my head clouded from lack of sleep.
I spent hours—at least that’s what it feels like—whispering into Christa’s ear, repeating promises I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep.
I’m almost relieved when the familiar thud of his footfalls echoes from down the hall.
Christa, who is suddenly alert, moves away from me only seconds before Dax appears behind the small window. Instead of loo
king up at him, her gaze drops to the floor. Even though she sees the snakes, this time she doesn’t react. Has her fear numbed her?
Through the window, Dax seems pleased with himself. He must have just stepped out of the shower because his hair looks damp and darker than usual, his face covered in a smile as he chews on something. Watching him, my stomach rumbles with hunger.
He thinks he has finally broken us. Maybe he has, for now.
I wouldn’t have minded so much if it were only me suffering at his hands. His torture is not new to me. I’m used to all the humiliation. But it’s different for Christa. It’s her first contact with the devil.
He nears the glass, presses his forehead against the pane. “Ready to follow the rules now?”
Christa glances first at me, then at Dax. She gives a small nod. I follow her lead. It feels like the right thing to do for now.
My body folds with relief when the door opens. I don’t even make a sound when Dax pulls me to my feet.
As he had done yesterday, he pushes us down the hallway, our weak bodies crashing against the walls, our knees hitting the floor before he picks us up again.
He first allows us to use the toilet, and then throws us out into the morning sunshine. It’s so bright that my eyes hurt. The sky above is blue and untainted. The world looks innocent, and quiet, and safe. Yet, there’s an evil lurking below the surface.
In front of us is a massive, silver tub filled with water. A pile of dirty laundry lies next to it. At close inspection I notice clothes, bed sheets, and the filthy curtains I’d seen around the house.
“Get to work, slave.” Dax waves a hand at the pile. “Those things won’t wash themselves.” He pins Christa with a look of disdain. “What are you waiting for?”
He doesn’t offer to remove the handcuffs so that she can do the job comfortably. His intention is to make her suffer. I know for sure he doesn’t even need any of the things that had belonged to the previous owner. He’s simply exercising his power, torturing me by torturing her.
