Catalyst

by Riley, Leighton

  I’m not a bad person.

  I know what I want and will do whatever it takes to get it.

  I’ve had a taste of her, and I know how worth it she’ll be to have again. She’s just confused right now, and that’s okay. With Noah out of the picture, she’ll slowly fall back in love with me. She’ll see all I’ve done just because of my love for her.

  Watching her sleep, her breasts swayed over to the right as she lies on her side. Beautiful pink nipples just begging to be sucked and nipped. It’s only been a few days since we were together, and I can’t help but wish we could go back to simpler times—where we could go out on dates and be in public.

  Eventually, we’ll get back to that point. I unlocked the handcuffs while she slept but reattached one of her ankle chains. I’m not risking anything at this point.

  Making my way downstairs, I call Jameson, my go-to guy to get a job done quietly. He’s been put in charge of handling Noah. Not that I really care about his well-being, but I need him alive right now. He’s my leverage, and if he dies, well, I’ll have to work harder.

  “Any updates?” I ask quietly, knowing Tinsley will be asleep for a few more hours but not wanting to disrupt her sleep.

  “Not many. He passed out after about a half hour of—discussion. Been out cold since. He’s breathing okay, though, and nothing was done that won’t heal. Eventually,” Jameson tells me, and I know exactly why I hired him. He’s to the point, quick, and loyal.

  “I’ll check in tomorrow. Keep him alive.” I end the call and contemplate tomorrow’s agenda. I’m not a patient person. The longer this takes, I know the worse it’ll be for her.

  All I want at the end of the day is to be happy with her and settle down. It isn’t some sick or twisted dream, per se. She makes me do crazy things, and now, I’m vested in her. Parts of her are intertwined through all aspects of my life, and I’ve put too much work in not to have her.

  I love that girl. And one day, she’ll love me too.

  Tinsley

  I WAKE UP TO the sounds of a movie playing. As I slowly open my eyes, I quickly notice that we are no longer in his bedroom. Instead, we are in his living room on the couch in a position that looks like we’re snuggling.

  Except I’ve been passed out because the fucker drugged me.

  Trying to stay as still as possible, I try to acquaint myself with my surroundings before he notices I’m awake. There’s a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of us along with two water bottles. The blinds are closed and the curtains are pulled shut, but light peeks through the edges.

  How long have I been out? I’m losing track of what time of day it is or, for that matter, what day it is at all.

  His room is tidy, no trash or disarray anywhere to be seen. I have a blanket over me, and I am leaning on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around me.

  “Sleep well?” he asks, rubbing my outside shoulder lightly. There’s no hint of anger or conflict when he speaks.

  “How long have I been out?” I ask quietly. My head pounds as I speak. The damn drugs are messing with my body.

  “Long enough.”

  Grumbling, I reply, “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s what I have to offer someone who hasn’t been so nice to me. You’ll learn.” Reaching in front of us for the popcorn, he ends up pulling me with him. Again, as if I’m some sort of rag doll.

  My thoughts wander to Noah and how he is, if he’s thinking about me at all, or if he’s noticed I’ve been out of touch far longer than usual. Besides work, I’m never away from home all that long.

  After Liam had passed away, it became a habit of mine to make my apartment my home base. I’d run out to get what I needed done and get back. Grocery store runs, bank runs, work runs. Occasionally, friends were mixed in with that, but it quickly became my security blanket.

  Maguire had been the catalyst for me getting out of the house more and for me letting go of the past. I took a chance on him and look where it got me.

  He wants me to be nice, so I will. Mainly because I don’t want him to drug me anymore. There’s also the hope I’ll be able to get out of his home, alive and unscathed.

  “What are we watching?” I try my damnedest to sound sincere and submissive.

  He looks at me as if I should know just by the few minutes we’ve watched. Finally, he answers. “In Time.”

  This means nothing to me. It doesn’t mean anything until I see Justin Timberlake, and I realize I saw this movie a while ago. I allow myself to relax and enjoy the movie, having nothing else to do. He shares the popcorn with me. Hesitantly, I take a bite but figure that if he had done something to it, he wouldn’t be chowing down on it too.

  Time passes by and the movie is almost over. It isn’t until the last five minutes that I realize the girl in the movie and I have a connection. We’ve both basically been taken and have certain feelings toward our captors.

  I repeat over and over to myself that I won’t fall for Maguire. I keep reminding myself how sick he is and how he can’t be trusted.

  I won’t be the victim. I won’t fall for him.

  I have to play the part to break free.

  We end up watching random cooking shows for another hour or so before he sets the remote down and stands. Looking up, I wonder what’s next on our ever so exciting agenda.

  He smiles and mouths ‘I’m sorry’ before picking me up like a child and carrying me upstairs, like a child.

  He carries me gently to the bed and locks my ankles and wrists.

  However, this time, I don’t fight it. I don’t rebel. I simply watch as each cuff locks into place, rubbing my already broken and raw skin. I smile timidly as he looks down at me and walks away.

  Once he’s in the hallway, he hollers to me that dinner will be ready in half an hour.

  So I wait, alone in his bed, and listen to him cook downstairs.

  I’m stuck in my head, and I’m seriously getting tired of being alone with my thoughts. Wondering what will send Maguire over the edge. Or what he’ll do to me if he realizes I’m pretending to care about him and am biding my time to run away. Thoughts of him keeping me as his property scare me to death.

  I need sunshine. I need social interaction.

  I need Liam.

  Time passes by quickly, though, and I’m startled when he comes back into the room with one plate and two drinks.

  Such a strange man.

  He sits me up, just like last time, and cuts my food before feeding it to me. I can’t help but moan at how delicious it tastes. He put some type of herbs over the pork chop and cooked it perfectly. Alongside some broccoli and skillet potatoes, he made a damn good dish.

  We barely talk. What we need to say is done through our actions and our eyes.

  I can see the love in his eyes. Right behind it, is something darker. He’s always gentle with me as long as I’m being nice.

  What scares me is that he sees his future with me in it. Once I get away, I hardly doubt I’ll be safe. He’s gone through detailed measures to keep me here, so I know he won’t quit without a fight.

  Not knowing how far he’ll go, I pray that something bad hasn’t happened to Noah.

  My curiosity gets the better of me after dinner, and I break down and ask him.

  “Did you bring my phone with you? You know, when you picked me up from my home?” I try to make it sound like the fucker didn’t kidnap me. Even though that’s exactly what he did.

  “Mmmhmm,” he replies as he runs a bath.

  “Have you checked it for messages? You wouldn’t want people worrying.” I try to sound helpful and not suspicious.

  “No one’s texted you.”

  That hurts. Both Shannon and Noah haven’t noticed a damn thing wrong. Some friends they are.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, but I’m breaking inside. My hope was that someone would come for me. If no one is looking, I might as well be dead.

  Maguire comes back into the room and unlocks my chains before lifting me up and carr
ying me into the bathroom. He doesn’t handcuff me this time, but I realize he locks the door with a real key. He undresses before stepping into the tub filled with hot water. It’s sad how I don’t even realize I’m still naked like it’s my new norm. He helps me get in after him, and I have nowhere to sit except for between his legs.

  It’s intimate. It’s what we’ve done before, just last week. He fucked me in my bathtub and after, we fell asleep in my bed without a second thought. It was a normal thing for two people in a relationship to do.

  Now, it makes my skin crawl, but I try to hide it.

  He’s recreating our dates. Sure, the movie was a different movie but many nights we sat on my couch, eating popcorn while I snuggled up to his side.

  I’ve ordered pork chops with broccoli at a restaurant with him before.

  Holy fuck.

  He’s calculated. He has a plan.

  A plan for me.

  For us.

  I rest against him, trying to wrap my brain around the complex man behind me. Maguire uses a loofah to clean my shoulders and arms. He’s methodical, working his way down my left arm before working back up and cleaning the underside of it. He does the same for my right arm.

  I can feel his heart beating against me, slow and even. It’s almost as if this isn’t out of the ordinary for him. That he isn’t worried about me running or trying to hurt him. This is a part of his day.

  “Thank you for not running. I’d hate to have to punish you. I’m sorry your poor ankles and wrists are so raw. I’ll try to leave them off a bit more if I know you won’t run.”

  I nod my head slightly. He says nothing else as the water around us turns lukewarm over time.

  I have so many questions swirling through my head but am terrified of some of the answers. He’s been so quiet compared to how we used to be. We used to talk about anything and everything and now? Now, I’m scared to say anything. I think he knows this. He’s been letting me acclimate to this, this new us.

  Thoughts of what would happen if he hadn’t kidnapped me. If in some alternate reality, we ended up staying together and got married. What if I hadn’t chosen Noah?

  I know that deep down, me choosing Noah was the catalyst for Maguire’s actions. He knew he was going to lose me, and in his head, that wasn’t an option.

  “Where’s Noah?” I blurt out, needing to know. I feel his body stiffen for a moment, but he doesn’t answer me. “Maguire?” I insist.

  He sighs and finally answers me. “He’s around.”

  “Around?” I try not to sound too worried, for Noah’s sake.

  “He’s where he needs to be. When he’s close to you, your mind becomes clouded with uncertainty and false hope. Noah is a reminder of the life you used to have. You need a fresh start. We’re together now, and that’s what matters.”

  I’m about to go apeshit crazy on his nonchalant attitude about how we’re together now. Really, though, I keep calm and bite my tongue.

  “My life I used to have, meaning when I had Liam?” Just saying his name makes my heart hurt. My sweet Liam. We were so happy back then.

  “Exactly. This way you purge yourself of all your past. You can let go of any pain and focus on your future. Noah’s a constant reminder of the old Tinsley. It isn’t good for you.”

  What comes out of my mouth next makes me cringe, and it feels like I’m stabbing Noah, Liam, and myself in the back. It’s what he needs to hear. Smiling, I tell him, “I never thought of it that way. How did I get so lucky to have someone who cares so much about me?” I turn and place a kiss on his cheek. I want to take it back, but right now, I need Maguire to trust me. Lying against his skin, I feel like I’m slowly losing myself, minute by minute, hour by hour.

  His arms tighten around me in a loving manner, and I feel his lips kiss my upper back. “Thank you for that. I needed to hear it.”

  I’m at a loss for what to do. My heart hates me for what just came out of my mouth.

  My fingers are pruney by the time we get out of the tub. He dries me off before taking me to bed, both of us naked.

  I feign sleep, trying to think about getting the hell out of his home. When he starts to snore, I start to slowly slip out of bed, making sure not to wake him.

  It feels like it takes forever for me to be off the bed and standing. Padding to the door, I curse myself when I realize he locked it from the inside and I don’t know where the key is. Looking around, I scramble around his room until I find my phone. When I finally find it, I want to scream for joy that it still has a bit of battery. Browsing my notifications, I realize he’s been texting Shannon as me.

  She was worried. It’s evident in her texts. She knew something was up, but he doused all hope of her coming for me. His responses sound just like me. He took time and effort to make sure she didn’t get suspicious. Funny, she thinks we’re on a road trip up to Houston for a few days. A week ago, that would have sounded like a legit weekend vacation with the man I’m dating. I was so naïve. Scrolling through other notifications, I noticed I’ve missed two calls from an unknown number but no voicemails.

  No messages from Noah. Which not only makes me sad but also worried. I know Maguire’s done something to him; I just don’t know how bad. I hear Maguire stir in the bed and bend down to put the phone back in the exact same place I found it. As soon as I get a chance, I’ll be able to send a message for her to send help.

  I head to the bathroom and turn the lights on, hoping that I’ll wake him up. Ideally, he’ll realize I hadn't left when I had the chance. I need him to trust me. My ankles and wrists can’t take much more friction.

  After using the restroom, I grab the jar of ointment and prop myself up on the counter. I open the jar, scooping a glob of ointment on my finger and apply it gently to my ankles. Wincing at the painful contact, I continue until I’ve taken care of all my wounds.

  Just as I turn to place the jar back, I see him walk in. His hair disheveled from being in bed, but otherwise, he looks like the old Maguire, the one who hadn’t turned psycho on me.

  “Hey, there. I had to use the restroom and didn’t want to wake you,” I tell him kindly.

  He looks at me for a moment, and I don’t think he realized I wasn’t chained up at all. After a moment, he smiles and makes his way between my legs.

  “That’s very sweet of you, babe. How about we go make some breakfast?” He still has that sleepy face that is normally adorable.

  We walk hand in hand downstairs, and I take a seat on a barstool. I’m still waiting for him to lock me up somehow, but he’s acting more like we’re a normal couple this morning.

  It means I’m doing something right.

  It’s no surprise when he makes me pancakes and bacon. I’ve made it for him before when we first started having sleepovers. We eat in mutual silence, both of us lost in thought.

  “Can I have my clothes back? Or at least a t-shirt?” I finally ask, not quite knowing what we should talk about.

  Thinking about it a moment, he walks into the laundry room, comes back and tosses me a shirt of his. I smile graciously and put it on quickly.

  “Thanks.”

  I didn’t realize how much I missed the simple idea of privacy. Having a shirt on was almost like a security blanket, giving me the comfort and protection I needed to get through the day.

  Another day with Maguire. In this home, where I don’t want to be.

  Scooping up the last bit of food on my fork, I rise to put my plate in the sink and have no idea where to go now. I’m scared he’ll lock me back up again.

  Instead of having a seat at the bar, I step behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. It’s a simple motion of affection, but hopefully, he’ll see it as more.

  “What’s our plan for today?”

  “Stay around the home,” he says likes it’s something we haven’t done the past two days.

  “Can we play twenty questions?” I take a step back, and he turns quickly and stands. I hold my hands up to show there isn’t a thre
at and move to the couch.

  He follows along with me, having a seat on the other end of the sofa, his long legs spread out. “You don’t want to do that.”

  He’s right. I probably don’t want to know the honest answer to many of my questions. “We trust each other. We love each other. Why not know more?” It sickens me as I throw out the ‘L’ word so easily.

  Shaking his head, he tells me, “I’ve warned you, though. And if you’re asking me questions, all is fair in love and war.”

  I smile at that. He sees it as love. I see it as war. Starting off with an easier question, I ask, “What’s your favorite quality about me? Both physical and emotional.”

  If he’s so in love with me, it should be an easy answer.

  He takes no time to think. “Your legs. They go on for days, and there’s nothing better than having them wrapped around my waist. As for emotional, I’d have to say how intuitive you are.”

  Unsure if I’m supposed to answer the same question about him or really how to respond to that, I nod a simple thank you.

  “Same question.”

  Asshole. I ponder this question for a moment. What would a narcissistic psycho like him want to hear? “I love your presence. When you walk into a room, you own it. The way you walk, the way you convey yourself to others, it’s sexy.”

  “You’ve noticed?” He seems genuinely surprised, which I find funny and odd.

  “Yeah. It’s what drew me to you originally.” It’s sad but true. “How long have you cared about me?”

  His answer doesn’t come automatically. Eventually, though, he tells me, “A long time.”

  Whatever that means. I probably don’t want to know the answer anyway. We go back and forth with random ass questions until I work up the nerve to ask what I really want to know.

  “Is Noah—safe?” I hate to ask, but I have to know. It’s my fault he’s in the situation he is.

  The smile that comes over Maguire’s face will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’ve hit the spot. The spot that makes him unravel. He moves over on top of me until we’re only inches away from each other. His body presses against mine as I sink into the couch. “Do I not do it for you, Tinsley?” He grinds against me, his erection pressing against my core.