Chained (Caged Book 2)

by D H Sidebottom

  “Shut up!” she screamed.

  I’d seen her angry before. I’d seen her furious. But this, this was something entirely different. The chains she had padlocked herself into many years ago disintegrated and the real soul held hostage by them finally surfaced. I had wanted her to accept Samantha, allow the child who she had once been liberation to heal. Yet, for a brief moment, I wasn’t sure if I had finally destroyed her. Ruined her like I promised us both.

  “You shut up!” she demanded in an icy tone that curdled the blood within my veins. “You know nothing. Nothing!”

  “Let her have her say!” I shouted as I took hold of her arms and forced her down onto the sofa beneath me. “Samantha deserves freedom, Kloe. Stop burying her beneath all your fucking lies! She’s slowly drowning you in lies, massacring who you really are!”

  She was feral, tossing and twisting. Her teeth snapped as she tried to bite, and her legs flipped as she wrestled with me. “Let me go!”

  “Tell me who you are!”

  “Let – me - go!”

  Forcing her backwards I brought my face an inch from hers. “Tell me who you fucking are!”

  “I’m no one!” she screamed. “I’m a girl that was only birthed to be abused. A child reared to be whored and sold for drugs. A little girl with no heart, and no soul. I’m no one. NO – ONE!”

  She collapsed, sinking back as her sobs took her breath and the truth took her sanity. My heart broke along with hers as I witnessed her eyes deaden when her mind cracked and everything she had forced back spilled into her head in one furious overload of horrific memories.

  “Samantha Rowan was a payment in kind for goods received,” she whispered. “She wasn’t a Honey Cup. She wasn’t even a Honey.” Her bleak eyes found mine and I had to bite back the vomit when it piled up my throat. “She was nothing more than an IOU.”

  I HAD STIRRED A WHILE back but I hadn’t found the energy to move. If breathing wasn’t involuntary I think I may have given up on that too. My body ached with sorrow – with the truth.

  The flames in the fire roared high and I still shivered although Anderson had placed a blanket over me some time during the night.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but sunlight was starting to stream through the cream curtains, the splatters of Richard’s blood projecting a light pink pattern across the carpet.

  Richard’s body had disappeared, an abstract of blood on the carpet and curtains the only evidence he had been there. I hadn’t heard Anderson shift him, but come to that, I hadn’t much of anything other than the echo of Samantha weeping in my head.

  I could feel Anderson’s presence in the room, but other than his soft breathing he was silent.

  “I’m not sure when insanity slipped in and I started to believe my own lies,” I said into the quiet. “Or even when they started to make any sense to me. I’m not even sure why I… why I…”

  “Why you crafted a loving mother from a cruel and selfish one?” Anderson finished for me.

  I folded the edge of the blanket in my fingers, turning it over and over until it was a thick, material concertina in my grip. “Yeah.”

  “I think maybe your mind did that for you.”

  I nodded. It was the only explanation. That, or I had gone crazy. “Maybe.”

  Anderson slid onto the floor in front of me. His deep green eyes sought me out in the dim light and the pain and sadness displayed so openly in them made me look away.

  “Look at me, Kloe,” he whispered.

  I did as he bid, the tenderness in his voice a huge jump from his aggression earlier. The storm in his eyes swallowed me, the rage of his emotion pulling me deeper and deeper until I couldn’t breathe.

  “You were a little girl. You went through something so horrific that your brain blocked it out to keep you alive. I know you didn’t conjure a loving mother from nowhere…”

  “I was weak…”

  “You were seven!” he spat, making me flinch.

  “And you were four but you remember every detail.”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  “But you do remember.”

  “Yes, but I was with Hank and Mary for over twenty years, Kloe. That’s a hell of a lot to block out. The early stuff… Judd, I don’t remember him. I don’t feel any connection to the little boy I was.”

  He wiped at a stray tear that rolled from my eye. He was like Jekyll and Hyde; hot and cold. One second he was furious and spiteful, and the next he was tender and reassuring. I couldn’t keep up with him. My heart was bleeding and then parched, my soul excited then dejected, and I was starting to question my own judgement.

  “What’s your earliest memory?” he asked as he slid his finger down my neck and across my shoulder. His touch was barely there but my body shot to life with awareness. I hated that he had that much control over me. I wanted to be free; from him and myself.

  A shiver took me and I squeezed my eyes closed.

  “Let her out, Kloe,” Anderson demanded, his stern bite back once more. “You need to allow Samantha her memories or she’ll never find her peace.”

  He made it sound like I was possessed, like another entity had buried itself deep down inside me. Yet, it was the total opposite. Another life had emerged from the scared and hurt child. A new soul had bled from the wounds of Samantha Rowan. Kloe Grant had been created from the torment of another. She had been coughed out and pushed into an existence without the nightmares she’d been born from.

  “I heard that name, you know, once.” Anderson looked at me curiously but I carried on. “I was… I’m not even sure where I was, but I was small. My mother was meeting a man, I think.” The image flittered into my head and I concentrated on it. “I was sat on a dirty step outside a house. People shoved past me to get inside, most of them loud and boisterous, and I remember their laughter making me tremble. It was a cruel laugh. I knew, even then, that the laughter came from bad people. It was so hot that day.” I could practically feel the overbearing heat from the sun crushing me and I swallowed, attempting to wet my dry mouth. “A woman was pushing a buggy. She was across the road. Her child threw its teddy out and it fell to the pavement. She bent and picked it up and passed it back to her, and she said ‘There you go, Honey Cup’.”

  Anderson gave me a small smile. “And what happened after?”

  I shivered and slowly moved my eyes to him. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to know.”

  He swallowed and clicked his tongue, but he nodded, allowing me my secrets. Sighing, he tipped his head. “You told me that Terry killed your mother…”

  I knew where he was going, and I nodded. “He did.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his eyes narrowing on me.

  “Yes.” Every fibre of me stiffened and I bit into my lip. “Is it…Is it wrong that…”

  Sensing my despair, Anderson found my hand beneath the blanket and threaded his fingers through mine. His touch sent a trickle of hope through me, but I pushed it away, refused to let it fester inside me. It would only open me up for more disappointment. “It’s okay that you still loved her, Kloe. It’s okay.”

  No one could ever know how much his assurance allowed my heart to take another beat, for my soul to drop to its knees and thank him. Because, really, it wasn’t okay. My mother had taken so much from me, but still, even now, I still gave her my heart.

  “She was nice sometimes,” I told him sadly as tears silently slid down my face. “I remember once, after… after…” Anderson nodded, telling me he understood what I couldn’t voice. “She gave me a dolly. It was old, and her dress was torn. She had short blonde hair, like some other child had hacked it off. I knew it was one she had perhaps found. But she gave it to me.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  Shaking my head, I smiled sadly, the memory of the scruffy doll at least giving me one good memory. “No. Brian burned it.”

  Anderson drew a deep breath. Outrage poured from him and he dropped my hand and stood up. “Co
ffee?”

  I looked up at him when he peered over me. “Tea?”

  He nodded once and disappeared into the kitchen.

  It was all a bit surreal. Not hours ago, Anderson had pinned me on the floor beneath him and fucked me raw, both with his cock and my own gun, while a dead man had watched us. He had instilled a fear in me that had taken my mind and squashed it under his cruelty. And here I sat, covered in a blanket on my sofa in front of a roaring fire while Anderson made a brew in my kitchen.

  How the hell did that make sense? It didn’t. It couldn’t.

  My bottom was sore and I shifted uncomfortably. My eyes dropped to the floor where Anderson had taken me, the memory making my stomach twist and my belly ache with a need I didn’t want to accept. My chest hurt and I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping it would block out the visions starting to both plague me and arouse me.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I’d been determined to shoot Anderson straight between his eyes. To force a hole into his brain and stop him from ever hurting me again. Yet, he had hurt me again. Physically, anyway. His words also. But then the man I remembered from four years ago found his way through and held my hand while I relived some painful memories. He had encouraged me to heal myself.

  But why? None of it made sense.

  “Tea.” Anderson spoke quietly, pulling me from my inner argument.

  I took the steaming mug from him and propped myself up, taking a sip. My stomach gurgled as though it resented the hot liquid, my gag reflex making me baulk at the sour taste. I wondered how long the teabags had been in the cupboard. I was sure they were fresh-ish.

  Anderson was quiet as he drank his own drink, the only sound coming from the growing wind outside and the small patter of raindrops on the window.

  “How do you know Sarah?”

  I caught him flinch but I kept my gaze on the mug in my hand.

  “I met her at a fight.”

  I nodded. “Did you know who she was?”

  “Not at first. I was a little surprised when I found out she was the same whore who fucked your ex.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was angry or sad. My emotions were all over and I couldn’t keep track. “You just called her a whore.”

  “She is.”

  “But… you still used her.”

  He inhaled sharply. “That’s what whores are generally for.”

  Flinching with the callous way he spoke, I nodded again. “Is that what I am? To you?” I whispered, apprehensive of his answer. “A whore?”

  He chuckled coldly. “You think I’m using you?”

  “Well, aren’t you?” I snapped, sick of his damn riddles. Another wave of nausea rolled over me and I placed my cup onto the table. “You already told me I’m here for the game you’re playing with your father.”

  “And you are,” he uttered. “But I don’t need to fuck you to use you, Kloe.”

  “Oh, that’s just a bonus then, is it?”

  He laughed, making my teeth vibrate with rage.

  Blowing out a breath when my skin turned clammy, I slid the blanket off me and closed my eyes. Vomit scurried up my throat and I rushed for the bathroom, only just making it in time before the meagre portions of food I’d managed in the previous few days made a swift return.

  My stomach heaved over and over and tears ran down my face with the force of the sickness that overtook me.

  “Jesus,” I huffed out when I finally managed to lean back during a break.

  “You okay?” Anderson watched me with a severe frown from his position against the doorframe.

  “Yes,” I uttered. “But I have to say I’m surprised you even care.”

  He looked furious, his eyes narrowing and his teeth clenching together, and I scuttled back when he was suddenly crouched before me. His fingers pinched my chin cruelly and he snapped my head back so my eyes were on his. “Oh, I care!” he growled. “And to be honest, I’m not even sure why.”

  My lungs became a little too tight with his closeness, his fury climbing inside me and lighting the parts of me I despised. Tears prickled my eyes and I pulled back. “What the hell is it with you? I can’t keep up. Make your damn mind up, Anderson. Either hand me over to your fucking father, or just end it. Right now. Right fucking now!”

  I was stunned when a wicked smile curved his lips, and his eyes blazed with emotion.

  Gasping when his fingers curled around the front of my throat, I froze and pressed back into the pedestal of the toilet. The scent of vomit drifted up my nose and I heaved again.

  Anderson dropped his hold on me instantly and guided me over the toilet bowl. His fingers bunched my hair, pulling it from my face as another round of retching saw me slumped over the loo.

  “Have you eaten something dodgy?” he asked.

  Thinking back, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “So it was just the tea?” He frowned, his brow creasing with concern as he placed the back of his hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

  As soon as the vomiting allowed me a little relief, Anderson whipped me up into his arms and carried me through to the bedroom. After gently tucking me under the duvet he disappeared and returned with a bucket, placing it beside the bed. “Sleep,” he ordered.

  He settled himself into the chair set away in the corner. His face was tight, but his soft gaze was troubled. Clicking his tongue, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Kloe.” He whispered my name but the anguish in his tone was loud and fierce.

  “I’m okay,” I replied just as quietly. I even gave him a soft smile of reassurance. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you?”

  “It’s just a virus, Anderson.”

  He hesitated, blinking before he clicked his tongue. “Is it, my little wolf?”

  Frowning, I shrugged under the duvet. “Sure, what else….”

  My heart stopped. I sucked in a long breath. And shot upright.

  Anderson swallowed loudly, wincing when he saw the fear swarm across my face.

  My head shook, my jaw trembled, and every fibre of me cried out when horror trickled into my veins. “No. No.”

  Anderson rushed to me when a funny keening noise broke from me and the room swam. I couldn’t breathe. Agony tore through my chest when shock froze my lungs.

  I tried to think. I couldn’t think. Dates merged in my head, causing chaos as I shook in Anderson’s fierce hold.

  “Breathe, Kloe. Come on, breathe.”

  His face grew out of focus as my brain struggled with the lack of oxygen.

  “Calm down,” he urged, tightening his fingers into the top of my arms.

  Closing my eyes, I concentrated on breathing, slowly inhaling and blowing it out. My heart rate was threatening to send me into panic and my rolling stomach offered more nausea.

  “Shh,” Anderson whispered softly. He nodded when I secured my gaze on him, concentrating on the intense look in his eyes. He smiled when my breathing started to regulate and my pulse no longer pounded in my ears. “Good girl.”

  I lowered my eyes, staring at the floor. “This can’t happen,” I choked out. “I can’t be. I… me and Ben tried for months, years but… nothing.”

  “And you just presumed it was you that was at fault.”

  I nodded. “Well yeah, after my past… you know.” I shrugged, wincing at my own stupidity. “I haven’t taken birth control since my teens. There didn’t seem any point after Ben, and failing to get pregnant.” I looked at him and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I never…”

  Anderson moved his gaze away and stood up, sighing as he crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t your fault, Kloe. Hell…” He winced, shaking his head angrily. “And anyway, it could just be a virus.”

  I nodded, hoping, praying, that he was right.

  He guided me back to the bed. “Sleep. I’ll be back in a while.” Pulling the duvet back over me, he narrowed his eyes. “Red is outside. She won’t let anyone in. Get some rest.”

&n
bsp; His soft tone, his worry, his compassion - they were each so different to the Anderson that had walked through my front door mere hours ago. I saw the worry on his face, the hope that also lay in my own eyes. I couldn’t be pregnant. Not like this. Not after this.

  “Anderson,” I whispered as he took a step out of the door.

  He turned back to me, his eyes finding mine in the dim light of the room.

  I licked my dry lips, attempting to find some moisture to form words. “What if…?”

  He held my gaze, the gentle side of him staring right back at me. He was scared, no, he was terrified, and the sight of such a powerful emotion in his eyes made my heart weep.

  Finally, he lowered his eyes to the floor beside the bed. “Then we deal with it, little wolf.”

  He said no more. He just turned and quietly slid the door closed behind him.

  ROBBIE STARED AT ME. I could see the horror in his eyes, the pain for me that he knew I also felt.

  “So,” he muttered quietly, lowering his eyes from me. “You deal with it. It’s just a quick procedure now…”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  He flinched at my glare and the fury that spat from my mouth. “Anderson. You can’t… it’s…”

  “Impossible?” I finished for him. “Is it?”

  I could still see the image of the little plus sign on the test Kloe had done not two hours ago, the cross burnt on the back of my retinas and my soul. Vomit clashed with hope and I couldn’t keep up with the fluctuating rhythm of my heartbeat.

  “It’s a baby, Rob! MY baby!”

  Shaking his head, he stepped towards me. “But it isn’t. Not yet. It’s just a cell. A blob. It doesn’t have features. It hasn’t even established a character yet.”

  He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

  “Rob. This is my child. The child that could, and will, change the course of my life. You couldn’t understand, and I don’t expect you to. The future holds nothing but pain for me. Pain and loneliness. I don’t have hopes or aspirations. I can’t even contemplate what is to come. Because I know there’s nothing but nothing. And at the very best, nothing but death and destruction.”