Nothing.
That’s when I notice a small white envelope leaning against the pillar. It’s right where the thread connects. In fact, it blends so well with the marble that I’m sure I would have missed it were it not for the string.
Exploration forgotten for now, I pick up the envelope. Maybe it will give some clue about what the fuck is going on.
It’s made of heavy paper. A wax stamp seals it, imprinted with a two-faced drama mask that I would find unnerving no matter where I saw it.
The only time I saw a wax-sealed envelope was when my ex got tapped by the Spade and Grave at Yale. I can understand the need for antiquity in New Haven. It makes no sense here.
My finger slips under the flap. I carefully ease it open. A foreboding sense of doom swirls around me as I pull the folded letter out.
I stare at it for a long minute. This is all so surreal. It feels like being caught in a bad dream. Once I read the lette, I play myself right into my captor’s hands.
My natural inclination to resist, to fight back, tells me to tear the paper up without another glance. But that would be madness. The only clue I have to my whereabouts might be contained inside.
My thirst for information gets the better of me. I sit on the floor, cross my legs, and slowly unfold the paper.
It’s handwritten in swift, flowing blue ink. The rows of words make perfect strides across the page. Precision is the first word that comes to mind to describe the owner of the handwriting.
I set the sheet on the floor in front of me, lean forward and begin to read:
Two items require your immediate attention.
You may spuriously assume you are being held here against your will. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You are a guest. As a guest, you retain full ability to leave my home at any time. The door behind the drapes shall remain open for the duration of your stay. There are no physical barriers to speak of—though I would advise you to read to the end of this letter before making decisions based on a flawed understanding of your situation.
You may have already noted the new adornment around your neck. If so, well done! I applaud—
Adornment? I stop reading. What adornment?
I bring my hands to my neck. I feel the unfamiliar shape against my skin. Why hadn’t I noticed it before?
I scamper closer to the marble pillar to try to make out my reflection. I see it right away: there’s a black collar around my throat. I touch it with one hand.
It’s smooth and flat. It’s made of some kind of matted plastic, like the edges of a computer screen. It’s not tight or uncomfortable.
It frightens me. If it warranted a place in the letter, there must be something to it. I need to get it off.
My fingers dart around the edges, seeking the clasp that opens it.
I don’t find one.
The collar is smooth inside and out. It feels like a single piece of plastic. I trail one finger around the rim on the inside, and, finding no discrepancies, do the same on the outside. Again, I feel nothing.
There’s no crack, no edge, nothing to indicate how it was put around my neck.
I jam all my fingers between my skin and the plastic and pull with all my might. The collar flexes ever-so-slightly but doesn’t give.
“Dammit!” I cry out and try again.
I pull with all the strength God gave me. It’s not enough. I try again, and again, and again.
Nothing.
I realize I’m panting at this point. The exertion has me almost hyperventilating.
I drop my hands. It’s just a stupid, harmless little piece of plastic. Why do I want it off so much?
Because the idea of having anything foreign touch your skin is repulsive.
The voice is right, as always. But what can I do? The collar is bound to be part of the mind game in which I’m an unwitting participant. Reacting the way I just did is probably exactly what my captor wants. He—and I am certain it’s a “he” now, from the wording of the letter—wants me to feel terrified.
I will not give him the pleasure. I return to the letter and continue to read:
…applaud your perspicacity! You should know, however, that it is not an ordinary collar. Contained inside is a small positioning chip and two electrodes. They become activated the moment you stray outside your designated safe zone.
The string around your foot offers a conservative estimation of the distance you may roam past the marble column. Stay close, and you will remain untroubled. I am told that the electric shock the collar provides, while not lethal, can be quite unpleasant.
Holy fuck.
My spine goes absolutely straight and I forget to breathe. Now the collar has meaning. It feels like a live serpent wrapped around my neck.
My eyes are wide as I look down to my foot. The piece of string is still there, but it’s not connected to the pillar.
I’d ripped it like a moron.
How far do I dare go? I’ll have to retie the string—unless I find a way to get the collar off my neck, first.
Another thought occurs to me. Maybe this is a bluff? Does the collar really have an electrode in it? It’s so thin. Where would it draw power from?
I stand up. Assuming the collar is rigged, and the pillar is the center point… but that’s just what he wants me to believe, isn’t it? The letter claims there’s a door behind the drapes. It could be my path to freedom. I would have to be an idiot to stay here without testing the boundary myself.
I can’t trust anything the letter says. But, I can’t give in to despair, either. My only choice is to contest everything that’s thrown at me. If this is supposed to be a battle of the wills, the guy chose the wrong girl to mess with.
I pick up the piece of string tied to the column and hold it in my fist. I square my shoulders to the long, drawn curtain. I hold my head high. My free hand itches to tug at the collar, but I keep it still. If my captor is watching me—which I’m sure he is, because I’m positive there are cameras hidden all around me—I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate.
I take a deep breath and start toward the curtained wall. My strides are strong and purposeful. I will not waver. I will not turn back. Fear of a little shock will not keep me from testing the true limits of this prison.
The string goes taut, and I stop.
So far, so good.
It’s the next few steps that will determine everything.
I glance at the floor to mark my position. So, he expects to keep me in an invisible cage, does he? A cage of my own imagination?
Yeah, tough luck.
I drop the string and take one solid step forward.
Nothing happens.
I risk one more.
Again, nothing.
The corner of my lip twitches up in a hint of a smile. I called his bluff. But, I’m not home free yet. The veiled wall is another thirty-odd paces away from me.
I take two more steps forward, and, when nothing happens, start to walk more briskly.
My stroll is cut short by a sharp little zap beneath my left ear.
Color me surprised. It looks like the collar does have bite, after all.
I tense and wait for more.
When a second jolt doesn’t come, I can’t stop my smile from becoming a satisfied smirk. I knew the collar couldn’t possible have enough juice to hurt me. Where would the battery go?
Extremely pleased with myself, I venture onward, toward the curtain and its promise of freedom.
The violent torrent of electricity blindsides me. One second I’m on my feet, the next I’m writhing on the floor.
The current pours into me. I thrash about like a grounded fish. Fierce convulsions rock my body. And all I know is pain, pain, pain.
I can feel the source of it, snug around my neck. I’m helpless to fight the onslaught. My head flails about on the ground, throwing hair into my face. A high-pitched squeal sounds in my ears and I desperately hope that pathetic sound is not me.
My eyes roll u
p and all goes black.
Chapter Two
(Present day - October 2013)
I wake with a gasp and bolt upright.
Water. I need water!
As my groggy brain starts to recognize my surroundings, I feel sick. I can’t stop the reflex. I turn to my side and hurl. I vomit until the full contents of my stomach are spewed up. It’s not enough. My guts keep contracting, making me dry-heave again, and again, and again.
Bile burns my throat. Tears stream down my face. My back is covered in sweat. I feel so weak. So pathetic. I gag on the putrid smell and endure another attack. It feels like my stomach is turning itself inside out. My insides hurt.
When the final convulsion subsides, and I’m sure the worst is over, I collapse onto my side. I bring my knees up and curl into a little ball, holding my arms tight over my chest. It’s the most protective position I know.
The stink of my vomit is all around me. It’s so bad I almost start puking again. I roll to the other side to get away.
I’m shocked when I see the marble pillar inches from my nose. I was so far away when I blacked out…
That means somebody came in here and moved me.
Even more revolting than the stench is the thought of the author of that letter laying his hands on me. I start to cry. What else did he do to me while I was unconscious?
My blouse is a wet mess of sweat. My cheeks are stained with tears. I can’t get away from the smell. Breathing through my mouth is no better. It brings attention to the taste of vomit on my tongue.
It’s a wonder I haven’t pissed myself yet.
Cope. I can’t cope. I can’t deal with this.
You can, a strong voice tells me. You’ve done it before. Remember?
I close my eyes and drift away to a place where the pain isn’t so bad…
Chapter Three
(Eleven years ago – 2002)
It’s summer. I’m twelve. Mom and her boyfriend are off at the lake house. I’m exploring the woods nearby. Out here, I can be anybody.
I pretend I’m a famous explorer, discovering a new land for the first time. The trees over there bear exotic fruit that are blue like the sky and taste like caramel. The shrubs across the field are actually a mother fox’s den. She has five pups to care for from her last litter. They’re always hungry, so she lives close by to feed them the fruit.
I start climbing a small crest, scrambling over rocks to get to the top. The valley on the other side is going to be blooming with beautiful flowers. I just know it. I reach the peak…
And am caught by surprise at the strange stone structure in the distance.
I drop the branch I’ve been using as a walking stick and rush over. Stumbling upon something real like this is a thrill unimagined!
My little feet carry me forward quickly, sandals slapping against the ground. I come to a stop right in front of the structure.
It’s big. And scary-looking. I don’t think anyone’s been here for years. The stones make up three solid walls, kind of like a house. The fourth has collapsed inward with a fallen tree. I don’t see a roof.
What kind of people would live in a place with no roof? Wouldn’t they get wet when it rains?
I walk around it once. There’s a heavy door on the other side. It’s rotten, and doesn’t budge when I give it a shove. That’s okay—I never expected getting in to be easy.
I look at the plastic toy watch I got at my best friend’s birthday party. It shows twelve minutes to six. Mom told me to be back by eight. I still have lots of time.
I stand and face the collapsed wall. My eyes run up the trunk of the tree. If I climb on, maybe I can drop in. Who knows what real treasure might be waiting for me?
I use the unearthed roots as footholds and climb on top of the trunk. It’s wide, and pretty easy to walk on—even in sandals. I always thought sandals were bad for exploring until I realized I could cross creeks without getting my socks wet.
“Cool,” I mutter when I see over the wall for the first time. The house has a dirt floor and an old table in one corner. There’s one chair with a missing leg. Along the opposite wall is a small mat about the size of a bed. I see the remains of a fireplace right where the tree fell.
I squat down and catch a branch. Unlike other girls, I’ve never been afraid of scraping my knee or getting a few bumps. Heights are no big challenge for me. My mom says I get that fearlessness from my dad. I guess it must be true, even though I don’t know him, because she always freaks out when I come home dirty and bruised after hours of playing with the neighborhood boys.
Mom asked me once why I didn’t play more with Carrie, her friend’s daughter.
“Boys do all the fun things,” I told her. “Girls my age are so boring.”
She laughed and tussled my hair.
I hop from my perch and swing down. My feet dangle high above the floor, but I’m not afraid. I let go. After the rush of free fall, I hit the ground with a thud.
A cloud of loose dirt rises where I land. Twigs and dry leaves crack under my feet as I take my first few steps. The place smells musty, kind of like the shelves of an old library.
I go to the doors and check to see why they wouldn’t open. I discover them blocked by a fallen branch. I press my shoulder against it and heave it aside. It’s dry and not very heavy. I try the door, and give a laugh of delight when it moves.
Happy that I won’t have to climb the tree again to get out, I set about investigating the place. I go to the table first. There’s an old sack underneath.
Treasure? I wonder.
I bend down and crawl under to take a look.
A flutter of wings startles me. I jump and hit my head.
Caw! Caw!
I look back at the black bird that’s landed on one of the walls.
Caw! Caw!
“Shoo!” I yell. My head hurts and I want to lash out. “Get out of here, you stupid bird!” I pick up a stone and chuck it at the raven.
The bird takes off before my rock rebounds off the wall.
Caw! Caw! Caw! it complains as it flies away.
“Good riddance,” I mutter. I turn my attention back to the sack. I retrieve it and untie the top.
The most vile stench ever greets me. It’s like rotting onions and week old garbage left in the sun. I gag and throw it away. A rotten black… something… rolls out. Maybe it used to be a potato. Or an apple? It’s crawling with tiny white worms.
“Disgusting!” I wipe my hand across my shorts. So much for treasure.
Disappointed, I get up. The old mat catches my eye.
I stop and look over. It’s not flat on the ground like I would expect. There’s a lumpy shape underneath.
Intrigued, I make my way to it. This time, I remember to shield my nose and turn a little to the side as I pick up one corner of the mat and fling it back.
A scream of blind terror erupts from my throat. Horror drowns out every thought in my mind.
There’s a skeleton there. A human skeleton, with wisps of hair still on top of its skull.
I stumble away. My heel catches a rock on the ground. I trip and fall, but when my back hits the earth, there comes a groan. The dirt shifts, and a splintering crack fills my ears.
The next thing I know, I’m falling again, falling through the soil, underground, into the pits of hell.
My body hits a succession of soft planks. Each one is more rotten than the last, and even my meager weight is enough to break them. Pain shoots through me as I tumble down like a rag doll. My body hits the floor with such force that all the air is driven out of my lungs.
My ears are ringing and my heart is thundering in my chest. Pain stabs every inch of my body with sharp, evil jabs.
Slowly, I become aware of a sound beyond the ringing. It is both distant and above me, almost like I’m hearing it from deep underwater. I open my eyes weakly, lacking the strength to even cry, and look up…
Caw! Caw!
It’s the goddamn bird. It’s goddamn back!
<
br /> I whimper as I push myself up. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, but some of the pain is subsiding. Somewhat.
I look up at the gaping hole in the ceiling through which I fell. Light filters down. A vague understanding forms in my mind.
I’m not in hell. I’m in a cellar.
A shadow blots out the light. I see black, flapping wings settle down as the raven lands on the edge of the hole and peers down.
Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!
“Go away!” I scream. My voice echoes around the inside of the enclosure.
The raven hops from one foot to the other, picks up a worm, and then cocks its head at me.
Caw? it asks, then twitches its head up and swallows its prey.
Something moves behind me. I scream and shy back. An enormous rat, nearly the size of my head, darts across the floor, disappearing into darkness.
Just an animal, I tell myself, trying to calm my racing heart. Nothing to be scared of.
That’s the moment I notice all the beetles and roaches crawling on the floor.
I yelp and jump, propelled in equal force by fright and adrenaline. I cry out as soon as I put weight on my left foot. I collapse as a tearing pain shoots up my leg.
I land face-first on the floor, right in the middle of the scuttling army of insects. I taste dirt and spit it out.
Caw! Caw!
I scamper away, helpless, to the closest wall.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I rock back and forth, chilled with fright. Pathetic whimpers give voice to the tears flowing down my face.
Chapter Four
(Present day - October 2013)
I open my eyes to the brilliant expanse of my prison. I test the air with my nose. There’s no more odor.
I feel groggy, as if waking up from a long sleep. How long have I been out?
I push myself to a sitting position and look around. The tiles are clean. The vomit is gone. There are two jars close by that were not there before.
I crawl over and look at them. One is filled with water. The other is empty.
Uncovering You: The Contract (Uncovering You, #1) Page 2
