Twisted Love (Stockholm Syndrome Series Book 1)

by R. Linda

  “No!” I shoved the covers off my legs as Kat jumped out of the way to let me up.

  I raced down the short dark hallway and took the stairs three at a time until I got to the spare room where I’d left Lucy last night. I could hear her crying, but worst of all, I could hear his deep, gravelly voice talking quietly to her. Kat stayed upstairs out of the way. Smart move.

  “Well, ain’t you just a pretty little thing?” The edge in his voice sent chills down my spine. I’d heard that tone before and it never ended well for the person he was directing it at. He hadn’t shut the door, so I was able to quietly step into the room behind him. The scene in front of me made me sick.

  I hunched over and dropped my head to my knees for a moment to gain my composure. When I looked up, Lucy was cowering on the bed and pressing herself into the corner trying to get as far away from my father as possible, while he knelt with one leg on the bed and hovered over her tiny frame.

  One of his arms was braced on the wall beside her head. The other was sliding up her leg as he lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

  I’d seen more than enough. I knew I needed to get him away from her.

  “What the hell are you doing? Fuck off!” I growled at him, taking a step forward. I wasn’t sure where my newfound confidence had come from. I never spoke to him that way; I was never allowed to talk back and treat him with anything other than respect. But when I saw the way he was intimidating Lucy and how terrified she was, my instinct to protect her kicked in. She was innocent. Just like all the others. Only she was different. She was special. She was mine.

  “Hendrix.” Lucy sighed with a small smile on her lips. She looked relieved to see me, but that would change soon. She was going to hate me when she found out I was the reason she was here and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “What did you say, boy?” My father turned around to face me, fists clenched by his sides. The muscles in my legs tightened as I fought off the overwhelming urge to run. I knew how much damage those fists could cause, and I knew I would pay for it later, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t let him touch her.

  Lucy’s eyes were darting between my father and me, watching us with furrowed eyebrows.

  “I said, fuck off,” I told him as he stepped closer to tower over me. I wouldn’t let him scare me off. I wouldn’t let him near Lucy. He used his height to intimidate me most of the time, but I wasn’t going to let him now. He had to know that I was serious and that she was off limits to him and his sick, twisted fantasies. She was innocent in all of this.

  “My turn, remember?” I tried to keep my face void of emotion and attempted to mimic his sneer and lack of empathy. The more I went along with him, the easier it would be for everyone. I just had to convince him I was serious.

  “Your turn, boy.” He smiled proudly and clapped me on the shoulder as he walked out with a chuckle.

  I closed the door behind him and sighed in relief, but I didn’t move. Instead, I just watched Lucy and waited for her to figure things out. I could almost see her brain working, and just when I thought she had the situation figured out, she smiled at me. A goddamn beautiful smile—with dimples. A smile that would usually have me grinning from ear to ear. A bright, relieved smile.

  Shit.

  “Thank you. He scared me; I didn’t know what to do,” she said, slowly climbing off the bed and standing to face me. “And the room, I couldn’t open the door or find a light or…”

  “Are you okay?” I cut her off and took a step back when she stepped forward and tried to reach for me. She wouldn’t want to touch me after this. I was going to have to tell her she wasn’t leaving here, and I was going to have to explain everything to her, so I wanted to keep my distance. I didn’t want to risk caving in when she pleaded with me to let her go—and she would. I knew she would ask and beg and fight with me to let her go, and I knew I would only be able to resist those sweet brown eyes of hers for so long.

  “I’m all right; he just scared me that’s all.” She tilted her head to look at me curiously. I could feel a lump forming in my throat and tried to swallow it down, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Lucy.

  “What’s wrong, Hendrix?” She took another step, which meant another step back for me. My back pressed into the door and I took a deep breath.

  “Um…” I tried to find the words to say what I needed, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to do this to her, but I had to. It was the only way to end everything.

  “So, do you think you could get dressed and give me a ride home?” she asked, nodding to my half-dressed appearance. “I should call the police.”

  In my rush to get in there, I had forgotten to pull a shirt on. Her eyes drifted to the tattoo of poppies and vines that began in the centre of my chest and spread over my right shoulder before winding down my arm. One for each of them.

  “I can call them about my car and the break-in. You’ve done more than enough for me already,” she said gratefully.

  I knew I had, and she only knew the half of it. This was it. I slowly shook my head, keeping my face impassive when really, I was freaking out. I was so damn scared of what was going to happen after this moment. I didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t this person. I wasn’t cruel. Or calculated. Or a sadistic fuck like Ray.

  “You can’t give me a ride home, or I can’t call the police?” she questioned softly, staring at me with wide eyes.

  “Both,” I breathed. I was nervous. My legs turned to jelly and my hands were trembling so much I had to shove them into the pockets of my jeans.

  “Hendrix, what’s wrong? You're starting to scare me too.” Her voice was quiet but squeaky as she took a step back from me this time. Too? I scared her too. I didn’t want to scare her. I wanted to keep her safe. It was screwed up because I was the reason she was in this mess, but I never wanted her to fear me. I didn’t want to lose what we had before this moment. The trust. The friendship. The attraction.

  “I don’t want you to be scared, love.” I tried to reassure her, but that only seemed to worry her more. She began twisting her fingers together. “But you can’t leave or call the police. I know what happened to your car and apartment.”

  I said that the wrong way because she sagged in relief and she took a deep breath.

  “You do?” Her eyes widened and a small smile crossed her face again. I liked her smile. A lot. And it killed me.

  “Yes. It was me. I cut the wire to your battery, and I broke into your apartment,” I told her, still not moving from my position against the door. Lucy, however, backed right up into the corner of the bed and pressed herself into the wall again.

  “Y-you-you... W-what? Why?” she stuttered, tears forming in her eyes as I watched her try to figure out what was going on.

  “I needed to get you here. I stalked you for months, watched your every move until I was ready to finally make you mine.” I shrugged. Damn, I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to confess this to her. I could feel my resolve crumbling every time her bottom lip quivered and she drew in a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy, but you can’t leave.” I also wasn’t prepared for how easy it was to fake authority, and square my shoulders, tower over her. I fucking hated it.

  “I-I don’t know what y-you w-want but, please…” She began to cry. “Let me go. I won’t call the police. I p-promise.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do that. He won’t let me.”

  “He? He who? That creep you just kicked out of here?”

  “Yes, my father.”

  “I don’t understand. Please, Hendrix, I just want to go home. You can’t keep me here,” she cried, but when I didn’t say anything or move, it finally sunk in.

  She was trapped. The way I had planned it.

  “I wish there was another way. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but it does. You can’t leave.” I swallowed thickly and tried not to let my guilt show through. I was breaking, and it wouldn’t take much more for me to give in and help her
escape. “You’re mine now.” She began screaming and crying and yelling for help. “No one can hear you down here, Lucy. He soundproofed all the walls and windows. No one will ever know you’re here.”

  A sudden look of determination passed over her, replacing her fear, as she lunged for me, screaming and crying. I caught her around the waist as she thrashed and kicked and scratched at me, trying to get out of the room.

  “Calm down; you’re going to hurt yourself,” I said, tightening my grip on her. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll be fine here. You’ll see. You’ll be fine with me.” I sounded deranged to my own fucking ears. I couldn’t imagine how I sounded to her.

  “Hendrix, please,” she cried and slumped in my arms. I slid to the floor with her and cradled her against my chest. It was wrong, but I still liked the way she felt in my arms. It was like she was supposed to be there. Maybe under different circumstances, she would have been.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll look after you.” Her body was wracking with sobs, her breath coming out in pants as she began to relax.

  It all seemed too easy. I expected the tears and the screams, and her trying to fight her way out of there, but I didn’t expect her to give in so easily. No one but Kat had ever given in that quickly. Some screamed until they were coughing up blood. Others punched and kicked at my father, the walls, and the door until they broke their hands or toes. And then there were the very rare ones who refused to give in or give up trying to fight their way out until my father ended it—for good. Those were the worst because my father never cleaned up after himself. He always left it to me to clean up his messes, his mistakes—his evidence. Always left it to me to dump the body in the woods or the lake.

  Lucy’s body tensed first, so I was prepared. I knew it had been too easy. She hadn’t given in yet. She suddenly threw all her weight, which really wasn’t much, into me, trying to knock me over I guessed, but I hardly moved. So, she shoved her elbow into my side, making me scream out in pain. That was the broken rib that was almost healed.

  While I was trying to catch my breath, she jumped up to her feet and lunged for the door. Still holding my side, I rolled over and stretched my arm out, grabbing her around the ankle. I didn’t want to hurt her, but if she got out that door, it would be a lot worse. He was up there waiting for her; I just knew it. He didn’t have faith in me. And he’d make her suffer. He’d show her that he was in control.

  I pulled hard on her ankle, causing her to fall to the floor. She cried out in pain and tried to kick me away, but I was too strong; my grip was too tight. I moved my body so I was crouching over her. I wrapped my arms around her waist once again. I was not going to give her that chance again. I needed to keep her in here, safe.

  I stood us both up and struggled with her while she continued to kick and wriggle in my arms before I threw her onto the bed and straddled her waist so she couldn’t move.

  “I'm sorry. Forgive me, Lucy. You’ll understand one day,” I whispered, bringing her hands up to the iron bed head and cuffing them there with the metal cuffs that were always hanging behind the bars of the frame. There were silk ties too, but they weren’t reliable enough. It was too easy to wriggle out of a knot. Cuffs, on the other hand, hurt like a bitch when they cut into your skin. I knew from experience. Ray had once cuffed me to the drain pipe in the back yard for three days because I slouched at the dinner table and choked on the meal my mother at the time, Grace, had made.

  I climbed off Lucy and walked out the door doing my best to ignore the cries and screams and pleas coming from her mouth.

  “Let me go!” she cried.

  I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head once before pulling the door shut behind me.

  Hendrix

  I LOCKED THE door and tucked the key in my pocket. I needed to keep that key hidden and safe, somewhere Ray would never find it. I couldn’t risk him getting access to that room or to Lucy. There was no telling what he would do, although I had a few ideas, none of them pretty. I got back upstairs and shut the door, instantly blocking the sound of Lucy screaming my name. I couldn’t face Kat and instead ducked my head and skirted past her down the narrow hallway while she balanced on her ridiculously high heels as she attempted to dust the discoloured brass light fitting overhead. Everything in this house was old, original from when my grandfather first had it built in the late sixties.

  “Hendrix,” she called my name softly, but I just shook my head and shoved my hands in my pockets, not looking back at her as I made my way into the kitchen to get a drink.

  I didn’t want to see the look of disappointment or fear in her eyes.

  “Well?” my father's gruff voice sounded from behind me.

  I placed the orange juice on the dark green countertop and closed the fridge before straightening my back and turning to face him.

  “Well what?” I stared back at him. Show no fear.

  “Well, we have a problem, don’t we?” he said, sneering. He took a step closer to me. I knew what was coming; I was expecting it, but that didn’t mean it would hurt any less. I didn’t even have a chance to brace myself for it before his fist connected with my face, tearing open the cut Kat had cleaned for me the night before. The force of his punch caused my head to smash into the overhead cupboard. My vision started to cloud and the room began to spin. A hiss escaped my lips even though I tried to show no pain. Pain was weak, and I was stronger than he thought. I had to be stronger. For me. For Kat. For Lucy.

  Another blow to my stomach had me doubled over trying to take a breath as my lungs burned. I knew better than to fight back; it would only make him angrier and end with more broken bones than necessary. If I was broken, I had no chance at protecting Lucy and Kat. Instead, all I could do was take the beating and hope it would be over soon.

  “Think you can disrespect me like that in front of your little girlfriend and get away with it?” he spat at me, pulling me upright and landing another punch on my side, thankfully not the side with the broken rib, but it hurt just the same. I stumbled sideways, catching myself on the counter. I bit my lip to stop from screaming out in pain. Little black dots were dancing across my eyes and I was finding it hard to keep my balance. His hands closed around my throat before I could even catch my breath, tightening and squeezing the air out of me. Everything was beginning to fade. The last thing I remembered seeing was Kat’s wide eyes peering around the door.

  A DAMP COOLNESS on my cheeks woke me up. Groaning as the pain suddenly hit me, I tried to push myself up, but a soft hand on my shoulder stopped me.

  “Don’t move, sweetie. Let me finish.” I peeled my heavy eyelids open at the sound of Kat’s trembling voice. Squinting in the bright light, I realised I was on the black and white linoleum floor of the kitchen and she was kneeling beside me chewing on her lip, her eyebrows pulled together and tears in her eyes. “You scared me this time. I thought that was it. That you were—” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, pressing the cold washcloth to my cheek again, making me wince in pain. “I’ve wrapped your ribs as best I can with you lying on the floor, and I’ve bandaged the gash in your head; it should stop the bleeding.”

  I watched her through tired eyes as she filled a glass of water and grabbed a few pills from the cupboard by the window. I really just wanted to sleep.

  “Here.” She handed me the pills and put the glass of water to my lips. “It should help with the pain.” She half smiled.

  I had to laugh at that comment because there was no one in this house better acquainted with that bottle of pills than me. They didn’t actually numb the pain anymore. I had built up a tolerance to them, but they were better than nothing. They were the weakest painkillers you could buy. You couldn’t overdose on them if you tried. I knew because I had attempted to after helping Ray dispose of my seventh mother, Clara, in the woods when I was much younger. All they did was give me a sore stomach. I took two entire bottles. After that, Ray only ever kept one bottle in the house, and it was always half empty.<
br />
  “Where is he?” I grunted in pain as I tried to push myself up to a sitting position.

  “In the shop.” She nodded her head to the front of the house where my father had his auto shop. That was where I worked and how I knew how to disable Lucy’s car. The sick bastard had been torturing me and killing women in the dingy little house behind his business for almost twenty years and no one was any the wiser. I tried once to alert someone as to what was going on back here, but my father arrived just in time to put a stop to it.

  I’d had the perfect opportunity. He had fallen asleep the night before immediately after dinner, which was strange, but stranger still was that he didn’t wake up early in the morning like normal, so I’d had to open the shop for him.

  Jacqueline, who was my mother a few years before Elizabeth, assured me she had everything under control, that she would cook him his favourite breakfast and make sure he was okay. A police officer came in to get an oil change that morning. My father would usually handle any business with law enforcement. Apparently, he was worried about me opening my mouth, but he obviously wasn’t expecting a visit from them that day or he sure as hell wouldn’t have slept in.

  I was making small talk while I changed the oil and I think the officer could tell something was up. I was clearly nervous; my hands were shaking, I was stuttering, and beads of sweat were dripping down my forehead at just the thought of telling him what was occurring right behind us. He asked me if everything was okay, but as I was about to answer, my father entered the shop, effectively putting a stop to it. He looked terrible; his skin was chalky and pasty, his eyes were sunken in and black.

  “Your mother needs help out there, boy,” he told me, clapping me on the shoulder the way he always did when he was pissed at me. To anyone on the outside, it just looked like a friendly fatherly gesture, but to me, when I was usually bruised or had fractured bones, it hurt like hell. The tears welled up in my eyes and my throat constricted as I nodded my head and turned to leave the shop, losing my only chance at getting us help.