by Costa, Bella
"God no, Acacia! Calm down." His lips brush my forehead. "Victoria suggested that we bring you here; she'll be here in a few minutes."
Victoria also thinks I need rehab? Am I now an addict? Tears prickle at the back of my eyes. He must realise my distress and struggles to reassure me.
"Shit. No. Acacia, we chose this place because it's private. No one will think to look for you here, including the press and anyone Robert still has influence over." He kisses my forehead again, gently. "They have a good medical treatment section, and their own lab to test what he's has been drugging you with."
Oh. I bury my face in his shirt again, grateful to be here in his arms, but mortified at the attention and bother I'm putting everyone through. A few minutes later, I feel Chayton settling me down onto a soft bed and I feel a stab of panic, grabbing at his hands, worrying that he is going to go and leave me here alone.
He smiles sadly down at me. "Shh. I'm not going anywhere."
A throat clears and Victoria smiles serenely at me. "Good evening Acacia. When I told you to get a social life, I expected you keep better company." I give her a shy smile and she laughs. "Good, first test passed; sense of humour intact!" She ticks off an item on an imaginary clipboard. This time I snicker.
"How are you feeling?" she asks.
"Confused, tired, unsettled, foggy, relieved." I admit.
"Second test passed; all perfectly normal, and to be expected." She perches on the edge of my bed before continuing. "We're going to do some blood work, to find out what they have been giving you. Mr. Barns has also asked for your wounds photographed before we get them cleaned up. Are you injured anywhere else?" she asks with concern, looking at my wrists.
"I think I have some bruises on my back from falling against something." I frown as I struggle to remember how it happened but it's a little fragmented and fuzzy. "Otherwise just some general stiffness...and I suppose the effects of the drug." I shrug.
"Acacia, I need to ask...,” she says ominously. "While you were captive, did anyone try...or succeed to have intercourse with you? Were you raped?"
Oh god how embarrassing! I feel Chayton's hand tense and hear him gasp softly, as if the possibility had not occurred to him. I focus on his strong fingers wrapped around mine.
"No. At least I don't think so." I hear the Chayton expel a long held breath and his fingers relax a little.
"Okay. That's fine. The doctor and a nurse are going to come in and get you settled, checked over and treated. Acacia, as soon as you are rested and you want to talk through everything, give me a call. You'll be safe here." She pats my hand tenderly, smiles at both of us and leaves us, passing a doctor and nurse as they enter the room.
The room is comfortable and expensively decorated, like a fancy hotel room, but hidden around the room, subtly disguised, are all the medical paraphernalia of a hospital room. The doctor is warm and friendly, and I feel immediately at ease with him. The nurse is well, let's just say functional, efficient and assertive. She's the kind of woman, who has to put up with a lot of shit on her daily working shift. Strangely, I like her too, especially when she allows Chayton to help get me changed, from the sweats and T-shirt, into a gown.
Chayton gasps in horror as the bruises on my back are exposed and his fingers lightly trace them. "Bastard," he mutters under his breath.
The nurse takes a few pictures for the prosecutor, and Chayton carefully wraps the gown around me, laying me slowly back, against the puffed up pillows. He's perched on the edge of the bed near my feet, watching stiffly, a finger tracing small circles on one of my shins, as the nurse draws a few vials of blood and dresses my wrists with bristling efficiency.
"All done," she announces eventually. "Here is a dinner menu. When you're ready, ring the buzzer, and I'll have an orderly come by to take your order. We're just going to work out what's in your blood so we know what pain relief you can take for those bruises." She hands over a restaurant styled menu, and wheels her trolley out of the room leaving us alone at last.
I scan through the menu. I am ravenous, but for real food. Everything on the posh menu looks far too complicated, too delicate. I scrunch up my face as I read it again, slower this time.
"Acacia," Chayton says softly, "would you rather I get Morgan to fetch a sandwich from Subway?"
"Oh God, yes please!" I almost wail, and he chuckles, pressing a speed dial button on his phone. He quickly issues out the details of my sub, and orders one for himself before hanging up and shifting to sit next to me at the head of the bed. Alone at last! Very, very carefully, as though I were a newborn or made of porcelain, Chayton gathers me into his arms, worried I think about my bruises.
"I am so glad you're safe. I was so lost...broken even, when I didn't find you at the Needle. Then when I realised that you were actually missing, I felt so helpless. I discovered a whole new capacity for experiencing agony."
"I saw you on television," I breathed. "The pain on your face, knowing that I was the cause of that..." I shudder at the memory.
His arms tighten around me protectively. "You saw me on TV?" he looks down at me, his face unreadable.
"The first few days, I was forced to watch the news channel twenty four hours a day." I fidget with the hem of my gown. "I think Robert wanted me to see your pain. He wanted me to know that the world had so little faith in me. He wanted me to see how easily they believed him when he suggested that that I had run. He was trying to hurt me.” I pause, the memories difficult to talk about. "Then when I escaped, he must have removed the TV from the room. Not that it mattered. It looks like he intended on keeping me drugged after that."
"You escaped?" He lifts my chin and gazes into my eyes, his expression incredulous.
"I didn't get far," I pout shrugging.
"You silly, brave, beautiful girl," he mutters with his lips against my forehead. "When did you try and escape?" There is wonder in his voice.
"This morning I think. What day is it?"
"Sunday."
"Friday morning," I reply. "Shit, I've been out of it for more than forty-eight hours!"
Chayton studies me, worry etched in every contour of his face. He has obviously thought of something unpleasant.
"What? What are you thinking?"
"Acacia, if you were out of it for so long," he pauses, measuring his words. I chew on my lip, waiting for him to continue. "Are you sure you weren't raped?" the last bit is barely a whisper.
I think for a moment. "I'm sure. John is a common criminal, and a sleazy jerk, but I don't think he has it in him, and Robert...well Robert wouldn't get any pleasure out of the act, unless he was able to issue out orders and instructions, or witness his victims shame. No. I'm sure."
"Who is John?"
"I don't know what his real name is. We agreed that I'd call him John as in John Doe. He was my keeper; at least he was until I escaped. The last time I saw him, he was on his knees on the bathroom floor, with nasty hair removal crème all over his face and he was wearing my cuffs," I snort.
"Tall guy? Weedy looking?"
"...by now red faced, missing some of his eyebrows and lashes.” I finish for him, remembering what I had thought was just a funny dream.
He grunts and dials a number on his phone. "Jack. There was a guy hanging around the gate earlier. Tall, face looks like he's been in a chemical spill. Yes him. Hold him. No. The book. I'll give you the details later. Oh? Okay, good." He hangs up and gazes down at me.
"He is already in custody and doing the proverbial canary act. Apparently you inflicted quite a bit of damage,” he laughs dryly.
"Hair removal crème does come with a health warning," I chuckle.
Morgan knocks and enters, bearing gifts wrapped in familiar Subway wrapping and my mouth waters. We all sit together; Chayton, Morgan and myself on my spacious bed, each tucking into our own subway and slurping on supersized cokes, as I question Chayton about everything that has been going on.
"How the hell did you find me?” I ask around a mouthful of
fiery meatball.
"By accident actually." He wipes some sauce from his mouth and it's distracting. "When you didn't arrive at your appointment, Victoria made a few calls but hadn't been able to find you. She left messages with your solicitor, your aunt, Grace and myself. By Sunday morning, when you hadn't been in touch, she called me and that's when we realised that something was wrong. I filed a missing persons report and asked Morgan here, to carry out his own investigation. We started with Grant."
"Grant. Of course!" I struggle to remember the details. "Robert told me that Grant had been feeding him information about me for years and...” Oh why is it so hard to think! "...Oh yes, he said something about Grant getting a conscience or something? Grant was involved!" My eyes start to prickle with tears. "I trusted him." Again, I have put my trust in someone, and again, that trust has been damaged magnificently.
"Shh." Chayton wipes a crumb from the corner of my mouth tenderly, halting my tears as the effect of his touch distracts me.
"It turns out," he continues, "that Grant was the last person to see you and it wasn't looking good for him. I think the guilt, started to turn to panic, and he came to see me this morning. He pretty much told me everything; everything except where to find you. He was adamant that he didn't know."
I frown as a memory flits across my mind, fading away like a dream, before I can grasp it properly.
"We knew about the party Robert was holding today, and my plan was to go there and confront him." He pauses to take a bite of his sandwich, and I wait for him to continue, watching the muscles in his jaw work as he chews. God, I love this man.
"So anyway, I had only just arrived and the party was in full swing, when someone knocked a jar over on a dresser and your keys flew out, disappearing under a sofa. I recognised them immediately."
"The room with the mural?” I ask, wrinkling my nose in disgust.
"You saw that? Worst thing I've ever seen!" he agrees wrinkling his own while, Morgan nods in agreement.
"So it occurred to me that it would be just like Robert, to hold a party, under the same roof as he's holding you prisoner. Like a challenge - proof of his invincibility. I decided to search the building before confronting him. It didn't take me long."
My heart squeezes painfully as I watch the agony on his face at the memory. "You were so pale and still, so quiet, lying there in the bath. I couldn't wake you. It scared the hell out of me." His voice cracks and he swallows hard.
"I wanted to kill him. Slowly. When you started to come around, I realised that maybe I could do just that. With the help of the same legal system, he's been playing for so long. There was the normal gathering of press outside looking for a story so I called in a favour with one of the reporters."
"The camera?"
"Yes. It wasn't broadcast live on TV this afternoon, although an edited version will be shown later on my approval. But it was shown live on Roberts own big screen plasma in the living area, in front of all his guests." Chayton grins coldly.
"You didn't!" I gasp. "Brilliant!"
"Sorry Angel. Leaving you there a minute longer than necessary was really hard to do." He tucks a lock of hair behind my ears. "So anyway, several judges, Seattle's Chief of Police and more importantly Jack, were all esteemed guests. I managed to warn Jack, while the camera guy was sneaking a small receiver onto the TV."
"Clever!" I swallow my last mouthful, washing it down with a long sip of Coke. "How did you get Robert to check up on me though? He looked very anxious when he stormed into the bathroom."
"Morgan pretended to be a guest. He mentioned to one of Robert's security, that he had seen a woman acting strangely, and very distressed hiding in a flower bed," laughs Chayton.
"I told him, that when I approached, she ran away, and that she kinda looked like you," Morgan grins. "I dropped the suggestion that he tell his boss, as soon as possible."
"Well Robert definitely got the message!” I yawn.
"You're exhausted Angel. You should try and sleep," Chayton murmurs.
"Yeah, I'll leave you two to it. Call me when you wanna ride," says Morgan rising. "It's cool to have you back Acacia," he smiles, and kisses both my cheeks before leaving, ignoring Chayton's glare.
"I'd like to wash first. I feel uncomfortable," I say to Chayton, waving to Morgan as he leaves.
"I'll run you a bath. Stay put." He removes the pale blue linen shirt he's been wearing over a white T-shirt, and hangs it over the back of a chair. He removes his watch and leaves it on the small table too. My eyes, droopy as they are, can't get enough of him as he moves about, so I'm disappointed when he disappears through a door, in the far corner of the room.
Soon I hear water running, and before long, steam is spilling out through the open doorway, Chayton sauntering out with it.
"Uh uh!" he admonishes when I make to climb out of bed. "I said stay."
"Chayton, I can walk!"
"I know, but I want to do this. Please? Let me look after you tonight. I've missed you." His looks so innocent, so childlike and I can't resist. At this moment, I know in my heart, that I'll give this man anything - everything. My trust, my heart, my soul.
He lifts me easily, carrying me through to the bathroom, and sets me down on my feet next to a deep bath, which is brimming with steamy water and bubbles.
"Turn around." I turn my back to him as requested, and feel his fingers making quick work of the ties holding my gown together. He gasps again at the sight of my bruises, making me curious about just how bad they look. One shoulder feels permanently stiff, but other than that, the bruises only hurt if pressed on.
Chayton offers me a hand to steady myself, and instructs me to step in. The water is hot and my skin tingles as I slowly lower myself into the water. I close my eyes and sigh, feeling the tension slowing seeping out of my muscles. This has always been my favourite way to unwind. Well...recently, it's become my second favourite way to unwind, and I can't resist a small grin.
"Lie back." I feel his hand supporting the back of my neck. I lean back and he lowers me slowly into the water to wet my hair, before bringing me upright again.
A small groan of pleasure escapes my throat as his fingers start massaging shampoo into my scalp, slowly working in small circles, until I'm so relaxed, I risk falling asleep. He lowers me back into the water again, and I'm almost floating as he tenderly rinses all the suds out. I think I'm in heaven.
Sitting me back up, Chayton takes my hands in his, and with small kisses, he traces the marks on my wrists, each wrist in turn. Eyes still closed, I hear the pop of another cap and I feel his hands smoothing body wash along my arms, under my arms, across my belly, slowly up, around and over my breasts, kneading gently. My skin starts to come alive at his touch, and another groan slips from my throat, as my nipples harden in response. I hear his breathing falter.
"Behave," he whispers and I grin cheekily.
He turns his attention to my back, skimming so lightly over my flesh, that I barely feel it.
"Stand up," he orders softly.
I open my eyes reluctantly and stand, watching him, as his hands continue their slow, tender journey, from the small of my back, over my backside, gliding down the back of my legs and back up the front, finally reaching their goal, at the summit of my thighs. I moan again, louder this time, as my hips sway against his palm, aching for more precious contact.
"For fucks sakes, Acacia! Behave!" he growls, but his voice is husky and thick with need.
I pout as he rinses me free of soap and wraps a huge towel around me like a cocoon lifting me out of the tub. He wraps a small towel around my hair and then his hands repeat their earlier journey, this time towelling me dry. Chayton insists on carrying me back to the bed, and goes on the hunt for a hair dryer and a brush. I can sense his growing frustration at finding none in the room.
"Angel, do you mind if I leave you for a minute? Just to go and find a brush and dryer?" I can tell from the tight lines on his face, that he is worried about leaving me alone. I wo
nder if this isn't some left over guilt, for leaving me cuffed in the bath earlier or leaving his mother, or both.
"I'm fine. Stop looking so anxious. You're worrying me."
"Okay." He offers a tight, unconvincing smile and turns to leave, but I sense his hesitation and I have to laugh when he only takes two steps out the door and shouts for my nurse instead.
~.~
Scrubbed and nourished, we snuggle up spooning, in my clinic bed. Chayton is barefoot but otherwise fully dressed behind me. I am burning up with need. It doesn't help that one of his fingers is igniting my skin where it traces small patterns on my forearm.
I shift slightly pressing my behind into his crotch, silently hinting, trying to get his attention. Only his finger moves, still stroking lightly across my skin.
OH COME ON! I scream silently, mentally pulling at my hair with both hands in total frustration. Watch his waltzing finger, inspiration dawns like a new day. I grasp his finger, halting its dance, and bring it slowly up to my lips. His breathing changes as I kiss the soft pad lightly. Spurred on, I draw his finger into my mouth, sucking it gently, swirling my tongue around it. I'm soon rewarded, feeling his growing arousal pressing against me.
"Acacia, you need rest. Behave," he whispers huskily, his lips brushing softly against my neck.
I turn slowly to face him, wincing as the bruises make their presence known.
"Rest? I've had plenty of that. I need to remember what it is to be alive. I need you. I need to feel you inside me. I need you to make me forget this last agonising week; when I thought I might never see you again."
He squeezes his eyes closed a low rumble echoing deep down in his chest. His eyes fly open and they are burning and his mouth is on mine, crushing my lips to his. His tongue invades my mouth, tasting me, consuming me.
"Life affirming?" he breathes. I nod.
Chayton rolls onto his back, pulling me gently on top of him. I lift myself up to straddle his hips and I'm rewarded with a huge megawatt smile, feeling his hips twist and grind beneath me, his hands thrumming my thighs.
