Twisted Love (Stockholm Syndrome Series Book 1)

by R. Linda

  “Give. Me. The. Key,” he panted, taking a step toward me and reaching out for my arm.

  “No,” I growled at him while trying to shrug off his hold.

  “Don’t be stupid, boy. My house, my rules.” He twisted my arm behind my back and I couldn’t help but scream in pain. Arms don’t bend that far; any harder and my arm would snap.

  “No! She’s mine,” I groaned as he applied more pressure to my arm. Fuck. It was going to give and break any second.

  My knees buckled and I dropped to the ground. He released my arm and shoved his foot into my back, forcing me onto my stomach. The weight of his foot caused the air in my lungs to rush out as my head hit the floor. A sharp pain in my side made me think he had broken another rib. One day, I’d find out what it felt like to feel no pain, to breathe without wincing, to walk without limping, to sleep without one eye open.

  “Where is it?” His hands were on my sides, patting and rubbing my skin. I tried not to wince in pain as he tapped his fingers along my tender ribs. His hands reached my hips and I started to struggle. He was trying to find the key, and he was getting too close. His fingers were almost touching the pocket where it was.

  “No,” I shouted as I tried to push myself up, but his boot held me down.

  “Don’t be stupid. I need that key.” My body tensed as his hand reached around my front and his fingers tried to force their way into my pocket. It was a good thing he had me pressed so tightly into the floor; it made it harder for him to get the key.

  “Come on, Hendrix, give me the key.” His voice changed, becoming softer, kinder. His hand dipped into my pocket. I reached down and grabbed hold of his wrist as hard as I could, pulling it out of my pocket.

  “Hendrix, I need that key,” he pleaded with me, but his voice had changed. It was completely different to how it had sounded moments ago. I twisted his wrist and he screamed out in pain. The weight lifted off my back allowing me to take a deep breath.

  “Stop. Stop! Please, you’re hurting me, Hendrix. Stop.” My eyes flew open and I rolled over onto my back, still gripping his wrist.

  Only it wasn’t his wrist. It was Kat’s. I had just thrown her on the bed beside me. I released my grip on her immediately. What was she doing there? Where was Ray?

  “Kat?” I asked, blinking my eyes a couple of times.

  She pushed herself away from me, her eyes wide as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her fingers curled around her wrist, where I had squeezed, and rubbed the red skin gently.

  “Hendrix.” Her voice trembled as she shook her head.

  I pushed myself off the bed as it dawned on me what had just happened. I lunged for Kat, wrapping my arms around her before she had a chance to pull away or scream. I needed to apologise and make sure she was okay.

  “Kat, I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair, rubbing my hand up and down her back gently. She didn’t move, didn’t speak; just stood there frozen in my arms. “I was dreaming. I thought he was trying to get the key. He kept asking for it and trying to grab it from my pocket. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realise it was you.”

  “N-n-no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that while you were s-s-sleeping.” She sniffed, pulling away from me. I stepped back and gently placed my hands on her shoulders, dipping my head so I could look in her eyes and make sure she really was okay.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. She smiled through her tears and nodded her head. I would never hurt Kat, and the fact that I did while dreaming scared the hell out of me. What else was I capable of while I was asleep? Surely the years of torment and abuse I’d been subjected to must have affected me in some way. I never wanted to become like Ray.

  “Well, let’s get you cleaned up then.” I led her down the hall to the bathroom where she fixed up her hair and make-up and ran the cold tap over her wrist to ease the burn from my fingers.

  It was definitely going to bruise. I felt awful; my stomach was churning from the thought that I had caused her more pain. I was queasy and needed to rest. I rushed over to the toilet and lifted the lid just as my stomach muscles tightened, forcing what little contents I had in there up and out of my mouth. My throat burned and tears leaked from my eyes as I continued to heave nothing.

  “Hendrix, are you okay?” Kat was by my side in an instant. I looked at her through blurry eyes and tried to catch my breath. She handed me a glass of water and I let the cold liquid ease the pain in my throat.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth clean.

  “That’s okay, but maybe you should go have another lie down,” she suggested as she rubbed my back. “You don’t look well. It’s been a rough day. I’d say you have a concussion.”

  “Yeah.” My voice was raspy and dry. She was right; it had been a hard twenty-four hours.

  “The key?” she whispered as we passed the door to the basement.

  “What?”

  “Hendrix, I need the key to lock the door.”

  “Kat, what are—”

  “You left me with Lucy and fell asleep. I’ve kept the latch on the door and locked this one, but Ray will be finished in the shop soon. You need to lock the door to keep him out.” That was why she was reaching into my pocket when I thought I was dreaming about him.

  “What time is it?” I asked her. I wanted to check on Lucy before my father came back inside.

  “It was almost four when I came in to get the key, so that—” She glanced at her watch and paled.

  “Shit.” He was coming. Kat gasped and ran down the hall to the kitchen so she could start preparing dinner. Ray had to eat at five o’clock, no exceptions, or there was hell to pay.

  “Lock it. Hurry,” she called back to me in a hushed voice.

  I pulled the key out and made my way painfully downstairs. I was still faint and my head throbbed. I slid the key into the lock, turning it until I heard it click. I would have to wait until later to go in and see Lucy, maybe when my father had gone to sleep. I made my way back up and into the kitchen to help Kat with dinner, otherwise it wouldn’t be ready in time, and I really didn’t want another beating today, or for Kat to suffer either.

  We worked silently and waited for my father to enter the kitchen. It wasn’t long before his loud footsteps thudded down the hallway. I gulped and squeezed Kat’s hand gently before turning to face the door, waiting for him to appear. We never knew what mood he would be in when he closed up the shop for the day, but we always prepared for the worst.

  Lucy

  I MUST HAVE drifted to sleep because the next thing I knew, I woke to the sound of his voice. A chill ran down my spine, and I tried to shrink back further into the corner of the bed. I didn’t want to see him or speak to him.

  “I bought you dinner,” Hendrix said, his voice laced with regret.

  “Fuck you!” Anger boiled inside me and I lashed out, uselessly pulling on the cuffs that still restrained me to the bed.

  Hendrix’s jaw clenched, and he swallowed. Hands tensed at his side, he sighed. “I truly am sorry, Lucy.”

  “Funny way of showing it.”

  “I never meant for things to be this way.”

  I bared my teeth and growled at him like a feral animal. Is that what being caged up did to a person?

  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  “Let me go! I need to go home,” I pleaded.

  He stepped toward me, conflict marred his once beautiful face—it wasn’t beautiful anymore; it was the face of a monster. I softened and tried to make myself appear weak, tried to convince whatever tiny human part of him was left that I wasn’t a threat and he could let me leave.

  He reached for me, and for a moment, I held my breath. Maybe he would let me go. His fingers traced the skin on my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and not the pleasant goosebumps that he gave me when he kissed my cheek and rescued me after my car wouldn’t start. No, these goosebumps were from fear.

  His eyebrows pulled together in a frown as he trace
d around the cuff that was biting into my skin. “You’re hurt.”

  And if I wasn’t mistaken, there was pain in his eyes, as though the idea of me being hurt, somehow caused him to hurt too, which was ridiculous. I was here because of him.

  “Hendrix, please let me go,” I begged. “Look what you’re doing to me!” I wriggled my wrist in the cuff, tearing the skin a little more. Blood dripped down my arm, but I barely felt the sting as I waited, hoped, prayed to anyone who’d listen for him to let me go. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”

  “Can’t do that. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t struggle so hard. You’re only hurting yourself.”

  I spat in his face and hissed, “Fuck you. I hate you!”

  He dropped his hand from my wrist and stood back. Bringing his sleeve to his cheek, he wiped my saliva from his skin, his eyes darkening drastically. I curled into myself, not liking the look he was giving me. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Lucy.”

  His jaw was tight, but there was a slight tremor in his limbs, like he was barely controlling himself, and that terrified me. If he was capable of locking me in a basement and cuffing me to a bed, what else could he do to me?

  Without another word, he turned and walked away.

  “Wait,” I called after him. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t wait any longer.

  “What?”

  “I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Use the bucket.”

  “You can’t make me use that, Hendrix. It’s disgusting. I don’t even want to touch it. Please.”

  He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as he approached the door. He was going to leave me chained to the bed, in desperate need to pee. I should have been nicer to him. I shouldn’t have spat in his face. If I were to have any chance at getting out of this hell hole, it was through him.

  “I’m sorry for spitting in your face. Please, let me use the bathroom.”

  He froze, one hand on the door knob, one hand on the wall. “You try anything, I will break your leg. You are not leaving.”

  I swallowed thickly, trying to keep the cereal I’d had for breakfast down. I had no doubt that he was capable of breaking my leg without even blinking. There was a hardness to him that I never noticed when he came to the bar. Perhaps because I’d been so enamoured by him, his smile, the dimple in his cheek and the sparkle in his whiskey-coloured eyes.

  “O-o-kay.”

  He pushed off the wall and walked back over to me. “I’m sorry about your wrists.”

  He confused me. One minute he was threatening to break my leg, the next he was apologising for indirectly hurting me.

  “You should be.” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. It wouldn’t surprise me if he gagged me next.

  He unlocked my cuffs, and rubbed his thumb over the raw skin, easing the pain immediately. I snatched my hands away from him. I didn’t want him to touch me. My eyes glanced at the door and I briefly considered making a run for it, but I really did need to use the bathroom to the point that I was in pain, squeezing my legs shut and bouncing on the spot.

  Hendrix wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and pulled me off the bed. My legs protested, and I groaned as the tight muscles and my knees stretched to a full standing position. He led me to the bathroom and opened the door. It was then that I realised it wasn’t really a bathroom, it was a toilet. There was no shower, only a rust-stained sink with taps that looked a hundred years old. I’d be surprised if they even turned on.

  Hendrix pushed me inside the tiny room and gestured to the toilet. It wasn’t great, but it was a stark improvement on the rank bucket.

  “A little privacy?” I asked, trying to keep my voice pleasant and not bitter.

  Hendrix shook his head. “There’s no such thing as privacy in this house, love. Go or don’t go. It’s up to you.”

  “What do you mean no privacy?”

  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He had the guts to get frustrated at me?

  “It means, that I can’t take the risk that you’ll do something incredibly stupid the moment you’re alone. I can’t trust you yet, as much as I want to. And until I can, you cannot be left alone unless you’re bound to the bed. It’s for your safety and everyone else’s. Now go.”

  “What? Trust me?”

  “Lucy, please just take a piss or whatever.”

  “I’m shy.”

  “I don’t care.”

  I couldn’t pee with an audience. I didn’t want him to see that. It would be embarrassing, and really, what harm could I do to myself in the toilet? There was no escape. There was nothing. But still, Hendrix didn’t move from his position at the door.

  “A girl has a right to her privacy.”

  “You don’t get that luxury anymore. You want to pee alone, then learn to play nice.”

  He wasn’t going to budge. I had no other choice but to drop my pants and hope he didn’t actually watch.

  “Can I at least turn the tap on?” I asked hopefully, at least then he wouldn’t be able to hear.

  Hendrix remained silent and levelled me with a glare that told me I was pushing my luck and if I didn’t go soon, I’d lose my chance. And that bucket wasn’t an option.

  Hendrix

  I SOMEHOW MANAGED to keep my father away from Lucy for a few days. Every time he tried, I would stop him with whatever poor excuse I could come up with on the spot. He wasn’t happy about it and ending up taking it out on me.

  “She’s our guest. The least she could do is meet her host,” he spat at me one morning, when complaining it had been almost a week since I’d brought Lucy home and he still hadn’t officially met her before backhanding me across the face and slamming my head into the wall. I slumped against the wall feeling the warm, sticky trickle of blood flowing down the side of my face and watched him walk through the door that led to the workshop.

  That was why I didn’t want him near her. I knew his temperament. He was unstable, and if I didn’t wear Lucy down, make her compliant, he’d have a field day with her. I shuddered to think of the things he could do to her, much like all the things he did to Kat over the years.

  “Come on,” Kat’s voice sounded from beside me, making me jump. I hadn’t heard her approach, but that was probably due to my skull pounding like a jackhammer.

  “Let’s fix you up so you can take Lucy her breakfast.” I stumbled after her down the hall to the bathroom once again and sat on the edge of the pink tub while she cleaned my face and stuck a plaster over the cut above my eyebrow. My head was throbbing and the room was shaking, making the hideous flowers on the wallpaper look like they were dancing.

  “It’s not deep. I don’t think you need stitches this time,” she said, her lips pulling up into a sad smile. “I’ll go and make breakfast.”

  I sat in the bathroom until I stopped shaking for fear of passing out if I moved. In the kitchen, Kat had prepared a breakfast tray for me to take to Lucy. We had been doing this every day, slowly trying to get Lucy to talk to me. She hated me, and I understood that completely, but I still needed to explain things to her and make things okay. I knew nothing I could ever say or do would actually compensate for what I had done to her, but I had to try.

  Some days, her reaction at seeing me was better than others; some days it was just as bad as the first morning she woke up here. Yesterday, Lucy was waiting for me to open the door and threw herself at me kicking and screaming and trying to fight her way out.

  I had to tie her to the bed again just to get her to stop. I got rid of the cuffs because they were cutting into her skin from struggling to break free and I didn’t want her to get hurt. Instead, Kat gave me a couple of scarves from her closet that would be softer on Lucy’s skin. Kat hated the thought of me restraining Lucy, but she understood it was in Lucy’s best interest.

  The day before yesterday, Lucy hadn’t said anything, she hadn’t moved, she hadn’t even looked at me. Instead, she just sat curled in a ball on the bed. I tried to talk to her, to ask her if
she needed anything and if she was okay, but she just ignored me. I wasn’t sure which was worse—the screaming and fighting, or the complete silence and not reacting at all.

  Kat did everything for her; took her lunch and dinner, took her to the bathroom when she needed it, and tried to get her to talk to me.

  I asked Kat if she could explain to Lucy why I had done this, but she told me it would be better coming from me. She was right, but I couldn’t get her to talk or listen long enough to explain, and we were running out of time. My father wasn’t a patient man, and it was beginning to show how much he despised Lucy without even knowing her. She hadn’t made an excellent impression according to him, and I knew that was my fault. I wanted to keep her safe from him, so I hadn’t allowed them to ‘meet’.

  His patience was wearing thin and I thought he might do something to her. I wouldn’t let myself think of the possibilities, just that whatever it was, it would be bad. I needed Lucy to meet him, and I needed her to be prepared for the kind of man my father was. If she knew what he was like, she’d behave and stop fighting me—I hoped.

  “Good luck,” Kat encouraged when I collected the tray and turned to leave the room.

  I paused at Lucy’s door and pulled the key out of my shirt. I had taken to wearing it on a chain around my neck and my father was none the wiser since I had always worn the chain tucked into my shirt. I opened the door slowly and stepped inside.

  “Good morning, Lucy,” I murmured looking at the sweet, sad girl perched on the edge of the bed, trying to gauge what her reaction would be this time.

  She didn’t respond, but her eyes did flicker toward me when I placed the tray on the small fold-out card table at the end of the bed. I stood still and glanced around the room, not wanting to make any sudden movements or scare her more than I already had.

  It was dull and ugly. Maybe I could get her a few things to make her feel more comfortable, more at home. The iron bed was uninviting, the wooden dresser in the corner was bare, and the concrete floor was cold. I noticed faint etchings on the panelled timber wall above her bed. Five straight, short, vertical lines and one long horizontal line cutting through four of the five shorter lines. Six. She was counting her days here and marking them on the wall. This wasn’t a bedroom at all. It was a cell.