This Is War, Baby

by K. Webster

  “Baylee, baby, I told you already,” he says in a menacing tone dry of any wit, “you’re not going anywhere.”

  This time, the tears do come. Small, hot tears streak down my cheeks and drip from my jaw. “Why?”

  If he doesn’t plan on letting me escape, he at least owes me an explanation.

  “Are you hungry?”

  His blatant disregard for my question irritates me and I hobble over to the light that shines beneath him. My dirty, naked flesh is exposed but I want him to see me. I want him to see the little girl he was supposed to look after. The little girl he took for his own depraved reasons.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  I can’t make out his features but I can tell he’s annoyed with me. His tell—a frustrated hand running through his messy hair—rats him out. Hair that I know has a few streaks of grey at his temple. Hair that I used to dream about running my own fingers through.

  “Sometimes, sweetheart, you have to make sacrifices. You, doll, are a sacrifice. Your part is small, but it is so significant.”

  His riddles confuse me.

  “I want to go home, Gabe. Please, I won’t tell anyone. I swear it,” I vow. And it’s the truth. If he were to let me go, I’d take the secret to my grave. If that meant regaining my freedom, I’d make that promise to him.

  “Baylee, you’re not going to tell anyone because there won’t be anyone to tell. You’ve been initiated into a new world—a world you’re not prepared to handle. Not even close.”

  I shiver and cross my arms over my chest. It should embarrass me that he sees me naked but I don’t care about being modest. I care about getting the heck out of here.

  “What do you want from me?” I demand with a nasty bite to my voice. I’m tired of being weak and begging. I want to go home.

  “Ahhh, there’s the feisty girl I know,” he says, almost as if he’s relieved. “If I let you out, promise not to run?”

  No.

  “Yes.”

  He laughs again and I decide I hate his laugh. “I don’t believe you.”

  I shrug my shoulders and glare at him. “I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me.” Unlike you, you bastard.

  He nods finally. “Fine. I’m going to take your word. But what happens if you betray me?”

  You’ve already betrayed me.

  “I won’t,” I lie.

  “You’re right,” he snaps. “You won’t. Because if you do, I’ll whip your ass with a stick from the yard for every step you manage to take away from me.”

  The hairs on my arms rise in alarm and my heart takes off like a hundred horses thundering away from me. “I won’t run.”

  “Good. I want to clean you up and feed you. You’re mine to take care of for now.” He nods and then disappears.

  I’m afraid he won’t come back but a few moments later, he drops something into my prison. A rope.

  “Climb,” he instructs, voice cold and uncaring.

  I shudder and wobble over to where it hangs before me. Sometimes in PE we climb ropes but not after having been starved for several days. The only reason I’m standing is because I’m running on pure adrenaline at this point. I reach for the thick rope and clutch it. It’s rough in my hands and a sad realization comes over me. I’ll never be able to climb this thing.

  “Climb!”

  I jump and reach higher on the rope. My attempt to hoist myself up ends up with me spinning wildly out of control, only managing to further nauseate my empty stomach. Dropping my feet to the dirt, I cry out. “I can’t! It’s too hard!”

  “You have three minutes to get your ass up here or you’ll die down there. You’ll rot because you were too much of a fucking baby to climb up the damn rope. If you want to survive, Baylee, you’re going to have to fight for it. Fucking fight for it!”

  Tears blur the horrible world around me but rage blooms inside of me. I grab hold of the rope and try again.

  Over and over again.

  Sometimes I get a few feet up only to fall and land on my butt on the cold, hard ground. Other times, I slide down the rope and not only rub the skin from my palms but the inside of my thighs as well. It seems like forever but he finally barks out words that send me once again plummeting to my hell.

  “Time’s up. Nice knowing you, sweetheart. I thought you were stronger but clearly I overestimated your strength.”

  The door slams down and the light is gone.

  My hope—my light in the darkness is vanished.

  With a wail of defeat, I curl up on the chilled floor and close my eyes. I hope death is easy on me. I hope he’s swift and steals me in my sleep. And I hope Mom finds me soon—wherever we end up on the other side.

  Goodbye, world.

  Goodbye, Baylee.

  Aches. All over. Especially in my head and my belly. Groaning, I crack open my eyes.

  Darkness.

  Again.

  How long was it since he closed me off this time?

  Five minutes? Five hours? Five days?

  I sit up and something touches my shoulder. A shriek escapes me before I realize it’s only the rope. It still hangs from the ceiling. My heart thuds to life as I wonder if without the pressure of his stupid time limit, maybe I could make it.

  But I can barely pull my weakened body to a sitting position. How would I ever be able to climb that thing?

  I have to, though.

  I don’t want to die down here.

  Standing on shaky legs, I clutch onto the rope. It takes several tries, but I soon figure out that if I twist the rope around my leg as I climb, I can keep myself from sliding back down. My biceps scream in pain and I suck in gasps of air as I slowly inch myself up. When I’m finally near the top, I push the ceiling expecting resistance. But it moves. It moves!

  I’m so excited that I nearly lose my grip and crash back onto the dirty cement floor below. At this height, I’d surely break a leg or an arm. Falling is not an option.

  I slide an arm through the gap. The room is no longer lit and is dark, but moonlight shines from somewhere which means a window is nearby. Windows mean freedom. With newfound determination, I manage to lift the slat up and get my elbow onto the wood floors around the hole. Now that escape is within reach, I’m no longer weak and I find the strength to get my other elbow up. When I get my knee onto the surface, I nearly cry out in joy.

  Almost there.

  Now that my eyes have adjusted, I see that I’m in a kitchen. I slowly drag my body out of the hole and across the floor. And once I’m completely out and there are a few feet separating me from the opening, I cry. Silent, all-body wracking sobs.

  So close.

  A door is nearby and I can escape.

  Climbing to my feet, I attempt to keep the shaking in my legs to a minimum. Each step is slow and painful but I’ll be free soon. Just a few more. My fingers clutch the cold metal and I twist.

  Free.

  At last.

  I smile for the first time in days.

  Until the fire licks at my ass.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  I’ve barely made sense of the pain when the strong arm is back around my waist pinning me against him. Searing hot pain brands my butt cheeks, and my moment of hope is replaced with fear. What is happening?

  “I told you. For every step you tried to escape, I’d whip you. And you made it four steps before I caught you. Does it hurt, Baylee?” His masculine scent which used to warm and comfort me—even turned me on, later—infiltrates my pores. Now it only turns my stomach sour.

  “Fuck you, Gabe,” I snarl.

  His hand slides up over my breast and pinches my nipple brutally. “I most certainly intend on fucking you, my brave, sweet girl,” he says with a gravelly rumble. “But first, we’re going to punish you for that naughty mouth.”

  I can’t do this.

  I should have died down there in that hole.

  It seems preferable than to be in the steely clutches of this nightmare.

 
“Time to learn this new world of yours, sweetheart.”

  A shudder wracks through me as his thumb runs over my nipple, this time almost reverently. My flesh raises at his gentle touch and I nearly vomit.

  “I like ‘em dirty. And you’re as dirty as they come. Soon, you’ll be just as dirty on the inside,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, sending goosebumps over my flesh. “You’ll like it too. In fact, you’ll love it. One day you will thank me.”

  I will never thank him.

  Ever.

  SWEET BAYLEE.

  So innocent and pure.

  It was almost too late. That fucker had nearly ruined her.

  But she’s mine to ruin. Every inch of her pale, dirty flesh. All mine. I’ve waited for so long. So fucking long. And now I have an excuse.

  This past summer was the worst. Fucking agony.

  Watching her bounce around in her tiny shorts and tight tank tops was painful. So goddamned torturous that I’d nearly yanked her out of that public pool one day and taken her long ago.

  But the timing wasn’t right.

  Things weren’t yet in place.

  In my world, timing is everything. The early bird may catch the worm. But it’s the patient bird who wins the dirt and all the worms in it.

  Baylee is the most coveted worm of all.

  So alive and free. Sexy yet unknowing of her allure to every man on this earth, aside from her father.

  She was meant to be mine.

  And she will be.

  The girl isn’t ready yet, but I will teach her.

  Drag her through hell and then hold her on the other side. Nurse her soul back to health and heal all the broken parts of her. I’ll be the sun and moon in her world. All thoughts will revert back to me. Always.

  The training will be brutal. For her.

  For me, it will be decadent perfection.

  I will own every inch of her inside and out. I’ll fuck her into oblivion. I will be the very thing she craves.

  My plan will mean that I will lose her for a bit but when it all settles, I’ll claim her again. She’ll belong to me and nobody will say a fucking word. Her father will thank me. Her mother will hug me. Her boyfriend will hate me.

  And she will love me.

  I KICK MY legs out in an attempt to make a connection with anything that will keep me from going back down into that hole. The house is so sparse though, definitely not the house he owns next door to my own. There’s no furniture in the kitchen. Only wood planks stand between me and that black hell.

  Gabe is a thousand times stronger than me, especially in my weakened state, and I’m nothing against his grip around me.

  “Save your energy, sweetheart. You’ll need it.”

  His warning chills my bones and I fall limp in his arms. At this point, the darkness is preferable to having him touch me and threaten me.

  “Good girl.”

  This is the point where I give up. Whatever will be will be. I’m no match against a forty-one-year-old man. My father was someone I had always counted on to protect me because he was big and strong and fearless. Gabe kind of fell into the same category.

  Until he stole me.

  Then he became the villain in this story.

  If Dad only knew his best friend betrayed him in the worst possible way, he’d kill him with his bare hands. I saw the way Dad pummeled a guy once. He’d gotten several licks in on him before the cops showed up. Some guy rear-ended us and my father exploded in fury. “You could have killed my wife!” She was already dying though. My mother and I screeched and cried while my dad punched that poor man relentlessly.

  He defended us—defended her—with such a furious passion that the world trembled beneath his feet. My dad wasn’t someone people messed with. At six foot five, he towered over most men, including Gabe. It wasn’t the height that frightened people though. Something in my dad’s eyes flickered with a barely contained rage. Even as a child, I sensed that he was brooding about something. That anger ebbed and flowed beneath the surface. Not at me or my mom. Not at Gabe. At the world. The world was always trying to cheat him and take from him. Life was unfair…and Dad hated that fact.

  If he knew Gabe had taken me, he’d kill him. No doubt in my mind. Even though Dad loved Gabe like a brother, he didn’t look at him like he looked at me.

  I’m his only daughter.

  His whole world.

  The girl who looks like his wife but has his height, although not quite as tall, and his tenacity.

  He would rip out Gabe’s heart and serve it to me and Mom for supper.

  A crazed giggle escapes me and Gabe freezes. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” I say and then cackle. “I hope I come back and haunt you until Dad kills you.”

  His annoyed grunt satisfies me until he speaks. “You passed your first test. You’re not going to die now. The worst part is over. It’s time to train.”

  Train?

  My mind fades to grey as I ponder what he means. In school, I train for track. I run miles and miles without getting winded. The high jump is my thing. Effortlessly, I flop over that bar as if it’s the easiest thing to do in the world. I lift weights and eat right so Coach doesn’t give me crap.

  That’s what training means to me.

  But something tells me that Gabe isn’t training me to run a marathon. Something tells me he’s training me for something dark and sinister.

  I’m so lost in my thoughts that I barely register being carried into a bedroom. The walls are made of wood and I realize we’re in a log cabin. The floors, the ceiling, the walls, and even the bed are made of the wood that is now permeating my senses.

  We’re probably deep in the woods.

  Nobody will ever hear me scream.

  It’s me against him.

  “Are you sleepy, little one?”

  For a moment his voice bears concern, and is familiar. Like the Gabe from before. The man I’d depended on to help me push my car when I’d run out of gas on the way to the mall when Dad was still caught up at work. The man who had playfully threatened my boyfriend not to harm a hair on my head or there’d be hell to pay. The man who had hugged me tight when my dog Molly got run over by a car and passed away.

  Exhaustion overwhelms me and I sag in his arms. I’m so tired. So very, very tired.

  “We’ll talk in the morning,” he whispers, almost sweetly, into my ear as he guides me over to the bed. “Over breakfast.”

  I burst into tears and he calms me with strokes on my grimy skin that should repulse me. But they don’t. I want to close my eyes and pretend this didn’t happen. I want to pretend he’s here to save me.

  “I’m scared,” I choke out.

  He yanks the covers back on the bed in the room and climbs in with me. It’s only now that I realize he’s wearing jeans but no shirt. My skin reacts and a cold sweat breaks out over me. I’m terrified, and yet, I want him to comfort me. I want him to promise me that this is all a bad dream and I’ll wake in the morning in my own bed.

  He drags the covers up over us and for the first time in days, I’m warm. Gabe is a monster and yet I’m twisting in his arms to get closer—to get warmer. My arm wraps around his middle and I bury my face into his bare chest.

  “Shhh,” he murmurs against my hair and then kisses me. “I have you now. You’re mine, Baylee. All mine. Rest now and let me watch over you.”

  His words are enough to calm me and exhaustion steals me away.

  After the hell I’ve endured over the past few days, this is heaven.

  The devil is my savior.

  Bacon.

  My stomach grumbles and I come to. Blinking my eyes slowly, I take in the wooden walls that surround me in this sparse room. Where am I?

  I’m in hell. I remember now.

  The heavenly scent of breakfast wafting through the cabin, though, is enough to push away my worries and I focus on regaining my energy first. Every muscle in my body screams in agony. I’m not sure if I’ll even be able
to walk. The thought is alarming.

  I have to try though. Maybe we’re near people. If I can get out the front door and run to the street, I could flag down a car. Someone could rescue me.

  “I told you. For every step you tried to escape, I’d whip you. And you made it four steps before I caught you. Does it hurt, Baylee?”

  What if it’s a hundred steps to the road before he catches me? I shudder at the idea of him whipping me raw. My backside is still tender from last night. When I go to move my hand to finger the spot—to see if he broke the skin—panic threatens to drown me.

  I’m tied up.

  I’m tied up.

  Holy crap, I’m tied up.

  A tug of my legs indicates that my ankles are bound and strung to each post at the end of the bed. My wrists are secured together and rest on my belly under the blanket that’s been pulled to my chin. I try to sit up but I have no strength left.

  “Help!”

  Something clatters in the kitchen. I hear normal sounds that one would expect to hear as someone cooked breakfast. And that is what terrifies me even more. Gabe is carrying on as if this is normal—as if this is okay.

  It is absolutely not okay.

  “Help!”

  Heavy footsteps thunder down the hallway toward me and tears stream out of the corner of my eyes. I’m afraid. I want my dad. I want Brandon. I want someone who could help me.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  If I weren’t tied up—if I were here under my own desires—I’d be in awe of the sight. The devil, disguised as an angel, stands in the doorway resembling a combination of both beauty and evil. His dark hair is still wet as if he’s recently showered and he’s once again shirtless. The man, despite being in his forties, still works out and has an impressive physique. His shoulders are broad and thick while his toned torso tapers down into a narrower waist. Dark jeans hang low on his hips and dark hair disappears into them. If things were different, I’d almost say he was hot.