by Devon Ashley
“Who cares?” he replied callously. “Either way, you’ll never see him again.”
The only light came from the hallway, but I could still make out the shape of the syringe in his hands. I didn’t want to go down the path of drugs. Not again. I skittered backwards awkwardly, my arms stopping short, jerked back by an invisible force. I yanked several times, finding the resistance again and again. Oh, my God, he had my wrists tied down to something and I was already out of slack! “No!” I cried out at him. “Leave me alone!”
“What? This?” he asked, waving the syringe in the air. “I’ve already given it to you, love.”
I gasped, my hand going to the outside of my upper left arm, where I could now sense the prick clear as day. Oh, no, oh, no, no, no, no, no! I wasn’t supposed to be here! I was supposed to fight my way out long before he got me here! And I certainly wasn’t supposed to let myself get drugged again!
He left without saying another word, turning off the light in the hallway, leaving me in complete darkness. I couldn’t breathe. What air I managed to force down burned with each inhalation, like the rawness of fresh scratches. I was so overwhelmed every muscle in my body strained, my heart literally feeling as if it was being peeled apart fiber by fiber. I couldn’t believe I was stuck here. Trapped like a fucking rat all over again.
I could already feel the drug taking effect. I was getting sleepy, but what really stood out was the pain beginning to numb. My head was groggy, but it wasn’t because of the spot that hurt when I touched it, and my burns weren’t stinging as much anymore. Why were my burns even stinging in the first place? My tongue was beginning to feel funky, heavy. I wanted, no needed, to get out of here. I needed to find Nick. Help Nick. Please say someone found him in time, that he didn’t just bleed out in the garage, cold and all alone. My eyes already stinging, tears began to drip steadily at the thought of losing him. Please, God. Save him. He doesn’t deserve to die because of me. Not for me…
If this psycho thought I was going to just shut up and take it, he had another thing coming. There was a good chance Nick was still alive, and I wasn’t going to live my life without him.
Soft hands gently nudged me on my shoulder until I responded. Soft hands. Slowly, my eyes assessed my shoulder now that a lamp was on in the far corner. The dress I had been wearing was replaced with something that had a thin, silky strap in a pink hue.
The hand had a woman’s fingertips. My body aching, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my cheek raw from carpet burn. A girl around my age sat before me, a shiny slip covering her thin frame. Her hair was blonde, but not naturally, as her roots hadn’t been done in quite some time. She had pale eyes, maybe blue, and stared like she saw right through me.
There was something unnatural about her. She had this weird expression on her face, like she felt nothing. “Can you help me?” I whispered. Her head twisted and she cupped a bowl off the floor with both hands, holding it up to me. It was weird the way she was looking at me, and I began to wonder if this was what I was meant to be. “Are you in there? Or are you broken?”
“Broken?” he said from the doorway, where he leaned against the frame watching us in amusement. “That’s an interesting word for it.”
Seeing him immediately brought Nick to the forefront of my mind. “Where’s Nick?” I dared to ask, fearing the worst to be true.
“Hell if I know. But seeing as how I’ve had you unconscious for the past three days, he could be six feet under by now.”
Three days! I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, but his lack of tact just pissed me off! All the anger that seeped its way into me at the garage appeared in full force again, and before I even thought about my actions, I jumped to my feet. He didn’t flinch, knowing what I didn’t; that the resistance attached to my wrists gave me very little slack. Just as well; rushing him would be the stupidest thing ever – though my anger was screaming to let it have a go regardless of the beat down I’d surely get in return.
How the hell did I get myself into this mess again? I screamed my frustration at the binds that held me, yanking and pulling so hard my wrists began to burn. When I finally admitted defeat, my breaths remained heavy until I calmed. And it didn’t help that I wanted to rip that fucking smile off his face as he watched my every struggle.
Finally looking down at my hands, I saw leather wrapped around my reddened wrists, a key needed to unlock the tight straps. The silver chain attached to the leather threaded through a ring in the floor in both directions, looping upwards, disappearing into the ceiling for some type of pulley mechanism. The pink slip I wore looked very similar to the one the other girl wore.
My eyes couldn’t keep from assessing my surroundings, noting I was in some type of bedroom, nothing like the one I was kept in last time. This one had a queen-sized bed and large bathroom, a TV with a digital box, and a large chair with an ottoman next to a bookcase filled with books. But somehow I doubted that girl ever read any of them.
He slowly stepped into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, far out of my reach. “Now, if you’ve gotten that out of your system, you should eat the soup Veronica made you. It’d be rude not to.”
Rude? He had the nerve to lecture me about being rude?
“You didn’t have to shoot him,” I snapped. “I would’ve let you take me to keep him safe.” I actually meant those words. I’d do anything for Nick, even if it meant captivity. Even if it meant I was right where I was – though I was sure Nick would say the same thing about taking that shot if it meant keeping me free. I shook my head defiantly at him, threatening, “And if you killed him–”
“You’ll what?” he threatened as he rose to his feet. “You killed my brother!” He seemed surprised by the explosion, catching himself before he could advance another step towards me, his fists tightening. And I found his behavior completely bizarre for a guy who kept sex slaves. His brother Charles would have beaten me senseless had I used that tone with him. With a calmer voice, he continued, “He may have been a complete asshole who I didn’t get along with that well, but he was still my blood. Personally, I hope that shot was enough to give your boyfriend the painful death you gave Charles. Eye for an eye, I say.” It amazed me how he could say that so nonchalantly, like it took nothing for him to pull the trigger.
Fucking bastard. With a slow voice, I asked, “How did you find me?”
“Sit down and eat the soup.” The tone he used told me he wasn’t asking, and that refusing his demand would end poorly for me, no matter the restraint he seemed to be using. Seeing as I was already chained and considerably weaker, I chose not to fight this particular battle. If he wanted me dead already, he would’ve put that gun to my head in the parking lot or let me overdose on whatever drug he shot me up with, so at least I knew the soup wasn’t poisoned. And it was the fact that he wanted me alive that made me a little more courageous than I should’ve been while chained to his floor.
I looked down to the girl. She was still offering the bowl to me, holding it up in the air where I last saw it. Disturbed, I sat down beside her and she moved to feed me, holding out a full spoon’s worth. Cautiously, I leaned forward and took in the soup. Chicken noodle, heavy on the noodle. She continued to feed me, her movement acknowledging my presence, but I swear she never really saw me.
What was wrong with this girl?
Sitting down again, he said, “To answer your question, it’s the damndest thing finding you after all this time. A little bird within the police department told me my name popped up on an investigation as a person of interest. Turns out that accusation came from you. And wouldn’t you know, they kept your personal information on the electronic file. Name and address right there for the taking.”
My entire body slackened and I left the current spoonful hanging. All I did was point out a few faces. Nothing concrete. And he knew. He had people on the inside looking out for him, when they should have been looking out for people like me and this poor girl! A fury of guilt rushed through my chest. It was al
l my fault. If I had just shut my trap and told those detectives to go to hell, I never would’ve given them names, never would’ve given this psychopath my whereabouts. Nick would’ve never been shot and I wouldn’t have been forced into this guy’s SUV.
“Don’t worry,” he added, interrupting my stupor. “My name’s fallen off that record like it never existed to begin with. I should thank you, really. It all worked out pretty well in the end, don’t you think?”
God, I wanted to smack him, or better yet, stab him. But I held my tongue. Veronica’s hand swayed forward and left the spoon at the tip of my mouth. She didn’t look like she was going to go anywhere with it, so I accepted it.
He leaned forward and put the weight of his upper body on his thighs. “You know, for the longest time I was really pissed about what happened to my brother. But there was nothing I could do about it without drawing attention to myself. Any information he had about your previous life went up in flames. I didn’t even know your real name. So thank you,” he said with a wry smile. “Had you not spoken with the police, I never would’ve known who you were or where to find you.”
My stomach suddenly felt ten pounds heavier, acid erupting and splashing against the bottom of my esophagus, threatening to eat away my insides. I knew this, but hearing the words come out of his mouth made it so much worse. Veronica prodded with her spoon again and I put my hand before my face. “Please. No more,” I told her.
“Eat,” he said firmly.
I shook my head, pinching my lips. “It’s already trying to come back up.” I wrapped my arms around me and leaned forward, trying to breathe slowly to keep from upchucking all over the girl who was deadened inside.
“Veronica,” he said. “Take the soup back to the kitchen, then come back.” She did what he instructed without hesitation.
All I could think as I rocked back and forth, was that I did this to myself. We could still be off the radar and sleeping in one another’s arms right now. “Oh, my God…” I whined with closed eyes, my stomach pulsating like it was a freaking stress ball being squeezed repeatedly.
“How did you get away from Charles?”
I slowly looked up, licking my lips and swallowing the lump trying to rise from my stomach. I wasn’t sure I should really tell him, but seeing as how he’d once cut me up for fun, I knew I was better off talking to him rather than pissing him off. Self-preservation, Megan. You’re not dead yet. Just because he hasn’t killed you yet, doesn’t mean he won’t. Be thankful he only wants to talk right now.
But I also feared telling him, as I did kill his brother. With a shaky voice, I quietly admitted, “I knocked him out with the vent cover.”
His forehead furrowed and my heart jumped at the fear of pissing him off. “The one in your room? You got to that while you were drugged?”
I nodded, laying my head on my knees again. It just occurred to me that I wasn’t wearing any underwear, and I quickly wrapped my arms around my thighs in an attempt to cover myself. Stupid, really, since he was probably the one who dressed me to begin with.
“Impressive,” he added. I thought I caught a hint of amusement, but since we were talking about his dead brother, I refused to take the bait. Veronica returned to the room and sat beside him on the bed. He began petting her, stroking her back, leading her to close her eyes in comfort. What the hell was wrong with her?
It was weird looking at the two of them. If she hadn’t been so out of it, they might’ve been able to pull off being an actual, good-looking couple. She was young, lean and judging by the erect nipples through her slip, either cold or turned on by his touch. He was probably thirty and ripped all over, with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes. And it made it all the more gut-wrenching, because this normal looking guy kept sex slaves hidden away in his house.
After stroking Veronica’s hair for a moment, he added, “I always told him locking you up and drugging you was stupid. I offered to buy you off him.” My head jerked up and a wicked smile spread across his face. He knew he had my attention now. “But alas, he was content with just raping you.”
Huffing my exasperation, I snapped, “And you don’t?” I blurted it before I could stop myself and I regretted it instantly. His eyes tightened, his forehead furrowing, and he stalked me as I awkwardly scooted backwards until I hit the wall. Flinching, I turned my head, expecting him to hit me when he crouched down in front of me. Trapped like a fucking rat.
“First off…” He began, surprisingly calm, and my eyes peeked open, my head cautiously turning back. With a smile any women but me would swoon over, he continued, “You’re saucy. And it’s kind of turning me on.”
Ugh…
“But you’d better keep your mouth in check,” he threatened. He didn’t have to tell me what would happen if I didn’t, but it still wasn’t enough to tame the anger that resided deep within me. “Secondly, have you noticed you’re the only one in chains here? Veronica is free to roam the house. I don’t have to keep her drugged and locked down in the basement like my brother. Thirdly, I don’t rape.”
Funny, because he had already drugged and locked me up at this point, and he sure as hell had no problem raping me the last time I was in this position.
“Bullshit. I remember what you did to me,” I whispered, the words scaring me as the memories of his visits came to the forefront of my mind, and the knife he always brought with him.
“Apparently not, because I’ve never fucked you.”
“I remember you,” I said slowly. “I remember you cutting me.”
He inhaled a long breath through his nose, eyeing me very carefully. It disturbed me how gentle he was pretending to be right now, because I knew better. I knew what he was capable of. “Guilty,” he admitted. “Cutting is something I lean on when I’m bored sexually. And Charles kept you so fucking doped up you were nothing but a fish that flopped around out of water. There’s no fun in that. I want participation, not a dead fuck.
“It was a waste, what he did to you. I told him I could tame you but he still wouldn’t give you up. Perhaps I got a little bitter, maybe cut you too many times.” He reached out and brushed his fingers against my arm. “But then you went and screwed up your body even more, and although I’m glad you had a constant reminder of what you did to my brother, these burns need to go.”
I pulled my arm away, brushing down the goosebumps that popped up when he touched me. That was when I noticed it. The wrinkles and bumps weren’t as profound as they once were, and when I looked to inspect my burn up close, I realized the contrast in color wasn’t nearly as harsh anymore either. I pressed down on it and the nerves still felt numb.
Dumbfounded, I began inspecting all my spots, not caring that I peeked down my gown with him crouched just a foot away. All my spots were much smoother, the color clash a little different, a redness lingering even where there was no redness before. It was too dim to really see, but normally in this kind of light, I could easily tell where the borders between healthy and burned skin fell. Now, not so much, except on my worst spot.
“You’re welcome,” he said, taking a hold of my arm to inspect again for himself.
“How?” I was almost in awe. These burns had been such a burden on my socialization; I had no idea there was a way to heal them!
“It’s amazing what can be done with lasers these days.” Twisting my arm to better examine it, he added, “All your spots will need at least one more treatment though, if not two. The redness will fade in a few days. It’s just a reaction to the laser.”
“That’s why they were stinging,” I whispered to myself. And I just realized that their pain was obsolete, as was the ache from the bruise on my head, where I’m sure he cracked that gun to knock me out. Damn drugs. They may have erased the pain, but I’d rather feel it all if it meant I was left aware of my circumstances.
“I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet, but whether I keep you or sell you, this skin has to go.” All I heard of that was keep you or sell you. Haven’t
decided yet…
Oh, God. I was sitting here having a casual conversation with a guy that kept sex slaves. What the hell was wrong with me? He knew how to use his face to his advantage, smiling and shifting his eyes in an alluring manner that made you forget you were sitting next to a guy that’d cut you up the moment he got bored. This asshat shot my boyfriend! And I was just sitting here talking to him like nothing happened!
I ripped my arm from his grasp, snapping, “And her? You’re seriously telling me you don’t consider what you do to her as rape?”
I knew I was walking a dangerous line, but I couldn’t let him trick me into feeling safe. Even if I needed him angry, I needed to be reminded that he was dangerous, not to be trusted. He fucking shot Nick! He’d hurt you in a second, too.
I got my wish as anger flashed across his face. “What makes you think she’s lost her free will?”
“She’s dead inside. Broken. You said you never raped me because I was lifeless. How is that freaking zombie girl over there any different? She’s lifeless, too.”
I didn’t like the way he stared at me, and at the same time, I did. Voicing my opinion was dangerous, but what I said unnerved him, struck a chord that made him pull back and think. “What?” I asked sarcastically. “Your zombie playmates have never called you out on that before? They may be too brain dead to stand up to your bullshit, but I’m not.” My breaths quickened. It was still a toss-up if that little remark would be regarded as brave or dumb as shit.
“Natalie…or Megan, or Claire, or whatever the hell you go by these days.” There was something completely sinister about the way he was eyeing me, and it scared the shit out of me so much I began to inch away slowly, but his face seemed to follow and keep the distance between us the same. Sucking and wetting his lips first, he added, “I’m really going to enjoy fucking you.”
I kept a calm face but I was screaming inside, every part of my body launching into full panic mode, my legs squeezing together tightly. “Seeing as how you don’t rape,” I fearfully rebutted, “I don’t see how you’ll get the chance.” Damn my voice for shaking.
