by Cee Smith
“Come.”
I raised my head just enough to see him waiting in front of the nightstand with an outstretched hand. I thought of refusing him, but then his earlier words came crashing back, and the thought of being passed around like dinner rolls at Thanksgiving had my spine stiff and teeth rattling. I looked at his hand again, and when I made to get up, he gripped my hand, helping me.
I scooted across the mattress—each crinkling sheet beneath my buttocks reminding me of my nudity—until my feet were planted on the ground with my hand still folded in his.
He led me to his bed, removing a chain with two cuffs from his nightstand before he prompted me to lie down, hands raised above the headboard. When I lifted my hands, I looked back to see an inlaid square in the wall with a metal pipe dividing the cutout. The chain clanked against the pipe as he pulled the chain from one side to the other until there was a length of chain and a cuff on either side of the divider. He placed the leather cuffs around each wrist, tracing my wrists with his fingers. I tensed as his touch reminded me of something I dreamt, something dark that had somehow felt good. I didn’t want that feeling lying there next to him.
Getting beneath the covers on the other side of the bed, he looked completely comfortable and in his element there, as if there was nothing new or awkward about me sharing his bed. But, then again, he did have a divot permanently cut into his wall. Maybe I wasn’t the first woman he had chained to his bed. Maybe for him this was a typical Tuesday, or whatever day of the week it was.
“You may relax now.”
“How am I supposed to relax?” I tried to position myself in a way that my body turned away from his and my elbows concealed my breasts that threatened to be exposed with every inhale.
“Lie down, Hailey, now,” his voice sounded irritated like I was some petulant child who wouldn’t listen. The chain was long enough that I could lie down and the covers would cover me up to the tops of my shoulders. I hated that my breasts were raised high from my extended hands—all he would have had to do was pull the covers back a couple inches and have me perfectly exposed for his viewing pleasure. I didn’t mind him looking, so long as he didn’t touch me. His touch unsettled me too much, and I didn’t want him to take my body’s reaction as a request to proceed.
“What if there’s a fire or something? What if something happens to you?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I am worried about it,” I said more to myself than to him. He rolled on his side facing me, “You know, if you had just put on the pajamas, you wouldn’t be in my bed naked right now.” I felt his hand pet the hair that was splayed across the pillow. He pulled the rest of my hair up off my shoulder, leaving it bare. From the few times he’d touched me, I could tell he had some affinity for touching my hair. It made me want to go out and find the first razor, so I could shave myself bald. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to touch me. My body shivered, releasing small tremors as the hair tickled across my shoulders and neck. His hand swept back across the skin no longer hidden by my hair; his touch felt like how one would handle a bird with a broken wing—gentle but hesitant. I wanted to swat his hand away like I would a fly, ashamed at the way my legs rubbed together to sate an urge that I wanted no part in relieving.
The man who tormented me weighed heavily on my mind as I rethought the events of the last week. This had definitely been the longest week of my life—worse than midterms and finals, worse than that time that Jessa got to go to space camp and I had to stay home without her because I had the flu. The death of my parents seemed like a sad made-for-TV special compared to what I was going through.
Jessa’s big doe eyes popped into my mind, and I imagined them red-rimmed from crying the entire week I’d been missing. Her cheeks would look pink like an angry sunset protesting the emergence of the moon. I wondered if she went back to school. I doubted it. If the tables were turned, I wouldn’t have. I swallowed the cry that dangled from my uvula trying to dislodge itself from my throat. I couldn’t break down, not here, lying in his bed—afraid, naked, and vulnerable. Let him think my hiccupping frame was from the nervousness of his touch.
I guess things could have been worse; he could have captured Jessa, too. Jessa’s too strong-willed to be anyone’s victim. She would have spit and snarled against him every step of the way. It was what I ordinarily would admire about her, but in this case, it would be what would have gotten her killed. Was that why he took me? Was I an easy victim? I couldn’t give up hope that I would make it through this and be reunited with my sister.
I shifted as far to the right side of the bed as the chains allowed—still within arm’s reach of Dominic, but far enough away that I didn’t feel the heat from his body penetrating my skin.
His hand brushed across my back down to the dimples above my ass, and I flexed ramrod straight at his sudden movement. Is this it? Is he going to attempt to rape me now that my mind has fully accepted that I will be sleeping in his bed, every night? When I heard the mattress creak, signaling that he had rolled over, I sighed with relief that I was safe for another night.
I fidgeted back and forth trying to find the perfect way to sleep. Fetal, on my back, on my stomach, arms crooked, arms extended—I contorted my body in every position a person in my position could possibly muster and then some. Even Dominic appeared restless—his breaths were long and heavy, his nostrils flaring with every intake, but his body looked as tense as mine. I wondered if this was how he typically slept or if my presence had as much of an effect on him as it did me.
It was still dark when I awoke that morning, still groggy from a night of tossing and turning. Every time she moved, the tinkle of metal erupted in a chorus of chimes that sung like church bells, reminding me of her presence. The sound ringing out the litany of my sins, taunting my subconscious while I slept. Careful not to wake Hailey, I made my way downstairs to my office.
The house was dark and still as I made my way down the long hallway. I could barely make out the sound of the wind rustling through the bare branches above my beating heart and solid footsteps. A sharp pang of coldness bit into my back as I took a seat in the leather chair behind my desk. As soon as I powered up my laptop, I knew exactly what I wanted to look up.
I took some time searching through various news sources to see if there were any new updates on Hailey’s disappearance. A few of the local news stations in Queensland ran the article of Hailey’s possible abduction, saying that her body hadn’t washed up and there was no evidence of her scuba gear. One of the instructors—I remembered seeing on the boat with her that night—was interviewed about what might have transpired. I played the video. He looked so dumbfounded as if he was still processing what exactly happened. I searched through more videos and found one with Hailey’s family. It was a plea from her adoptive parents for Hailey to be returned safely. They listed all of her attributes, saying what a good student and daughter she was, explaining why she had been vacationing in Australia, how she was about to graduate. Jessa and Adam stood in the background. Adam had his arm around Jessa’s shoulder, supporting her as she cried into his chest.
Seeing her sister that way kicked at something in my chest, and I closed the browser, not wanting to see anything else that would prompt something that resembled guilt. I had no room for guilt. It was better this way. Hailey was safe with me, and although it would take some time, she would be happier with me.
I must admit having her there was a new experience. Most of my childhood I spent alone, as my mother and father were busy building their company. Friends were also hard to keep seeing as how we constantly traveled back and forth between New York and South Dakota. I suppose I didn’t take much time to create a social life after the disappearance of my family. Aside from finishing college and keeping Callas Enterprises going, I became obsessed with my parents’ absence, which only increased once I graduated school. With nothing to occupy my time, I became fully immersed in finding out the truth behind them vanishing. That was until Ha
iley.
It didn’t take Scout long to find her. Between her Facebook page, Twitter, and being a registered student, she made it too easy for people like me to find everything I needed to know about her. I became as vigorous with obtaining information regarding Hailey as I was with finding out about my parents.
Other than her parents’ car accident, Hailey lived a pretty charmed life. Douglas Bartholomew was the founder of an Internet start-up that had taken off not long after Hailey and Jessa came to live with them. His wife, Melinda, took to owning a small boutique shop with some of the money they earned from the start-up. Financially, they were able to offer Hailey and Jessa a better life than the girls’ own parents, but I knew all too well that nothing could substitute parents.
In some ways, the Duncans reminded me of my own mother and father. From the outside, they looked like the picture perfect family, but Scout uncovered some emails suggesting that their mom was having an affair. I suppose it was expected— their father was a politician, and you know how dirty politicians can be.
I was sure that Jessa and Hailey had no idea about the complexities of their parents’ marriage, just as I never understood my own parents. The difference was Hailey was young when her parents passed, and she had no reason to question their character. I envied Hailey. She lived such a sheltered life. Was that what drew me to her? I couldn’t be sure, just that every time I saw her, I was becoming more and more enraptured with the woman that felt so untouchable. Maybe that’s what drew me to her. She was like a collector’s item that sat untouched in the box, when all I really wanted to do was take her out and play with her.
Having Hailey in my home reminded me of all those times I watched her from the sidelines, wondering about the conversations she was having, what she was thinking. I wanted to be near her, to touch her, to know that I had as much of an effect on her as she had on me.
Then thoughts of last Thanksgiving assaulted me, reminding me of the image of her in those gray knit pajamas dancing around the kitchen as she made a pumpkin pie. The rest of the house was still asleep except for her and Jessa. Jessa sat perched on the other side of the granite slab island looking amused at Hailey’s dance moves. She was sprightly, like an angel whose feet never quite touched the ground, but seemed to float from place to place. It gave her an ethereal quality. I wanted nothing more than to leave the warmth of my BMW—that seemed to blend in perfectly with this upper middle-class neighborhood—and take a closer look at the woman whose beauty and grace spun a web around my thoughts.
Hailey paused with the metal bowl clutched in one hand while the other held a whisk that spun the contents of the bowl rapidly. Jessa looked to be reading off the pie recipe to Hailey as she continued moving about. I wondered if this was how it was every Thanksgiving. Was Hailey always responsible for the pie? Every other time I watched her, she didn’t seem to be much of a cook, but seeing her now, she seemed to enjoy it. She was having fun.
I didn’t stay long that day, seemingly caught up in my reaction to seeing Hailey. What would it be like to be with Hailey? To have her at Thanksgiving dinner, sitting and eating food that she prepared for me. Would she be just as happy? As much as I wanted to take her right then and there, stealing this moment from her so we could live out moments like this together, I knew it wasn’t time. Not yet. Don’t ask me how I knew it wasn’t time, but I did. Everything had to be perfect. It wasn’t about needing her anymore. It was about wanting her, and though I had wanted her every day for months, it still felt like it was too soon. It still felt like something was missing, something that I needed to know before I took her.
New Year’s Eve was when I knew that I couldn’t wait any longer. Scout tapped into Hailey’s plans to attend a masquerade party with her brother and sister. As soon as I got the details, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist going. It was the perfect opportunity to see her up close in her element, while being able to conceal my face.
“Seltzer with Lime,” I said over the crowd of people clawing their way to the bar. The bartender set my glass down, which I scooped up, turning around to pass over the crowd of faces hoping Hailey wouldn’t be so hard to find in the bustle of people. When she entered the bar, it was like looking into the sun after days spent in the dark. She wore a mask that looked reptilian in its scaled texture, the iridescent blues and greens shimmering beneath twinkling lights that ran the length of the ceiling. Her dress was made of gold sequins that stopped mid-thigh and dipped low between her shoulder blades. The front had a boat-neck, revealing the allure of clavicles that made me want to trace her bones with my tongue.
I took a sip of my drink as I eye-fucked her from across the room. She looked unabashed in her movements—sure, calm, focused, but her eyes revealed her true place amongst these people. There were probably 200 people here, half of them women Hailey’s age, but they danced carelessly. Pairing off with men that did nothing more than offer to buy them drinks. Hailey looked around as if she’d walked into some hedonist’s fantasy, that she was simply a scribe meant to detail the events that would unfold before her. She didn’t belong in a place like this.
“You’re looking a little low. Can I get you a drink?” A woman wearing a furry clay-colored mask with a fringe of white lacing the bottom pressed in close against me as she spoke. I stood over a foot above her, peering down into foggy gray eyes that glimmered with hope of there being more to this interaction. Her blonde hair tumbled in a reckless heap across her shoulders, spilling over the deep V of her burgundy dress. If she would have approached me in as many as seven months ago, I would have taken her up on her offer, fucked her until my name was the only one she could remember. But I knew better. I knew that there was no comparison to the alluring angel that drew closer to me with every step, until there were only a couple bodies between us.
“Not tonight,” I said dismissing the buxom blonde that scurried away from me, appalled at my rejection.
As if she heard my soul call for her, Hailey’s head turned. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before Adam was shifting her through the crowd and away from me. I think it was that moment I knew—there would be no one else to touch her, no one else to pique her attention or steal her eyes from mine. I had to own her. I’m not a pansy so I can’t say shit like “magical,” but that moment between us was surreal. I felt her. The way her body responded to merely the thought of me watching her, seeing beneath the mask to the young woman looking for a way to break out of the mold she encased herself in.
Just her being in a place like this belied the fact that she was the studious virgin bent on saving her virtue. She was curious—I could read it in the way her head tilted up in observation at couples making out around her on the dance floor. Those eyes peered out the corners of her mask to see writhing bodies surrounding her and the various faces displaying one form of heightened sexuality or another.
It wasn’t long before she was spinning in circles with Jessa and Adam. Their raucous laughter reached the bar over the amplified music. I wanted to be next to her, feel the way her body shook with laughter, the clenching of her stomach muscles as they fight to pound the sound of laughter through her body. Or, did I just want to feel her muscles clenching as I pounded into her?
Adam corralled Hailey over to the bar where they picked up drinks for the three of them before turning back to stand at the edge of the dance floor. I couldn’t tell exactly what she was drinking, something that looked like fruit punch with its bright pink color. Over the course of the night, I watched her make two more trips to the bar, each time with Jessa or Adam in tow.
I watched every sip she took as if I could feel the burn of alcohol dripping down my throat, splashing into my stomach with a warmth spreading through my limbs. Her hips rolled wider as she danced, arms swung from her body more fluidly. By the time the countdown commenced, she had a glow so radiant, it looked like her golden hair licked flames. The only sign of lipstick still dotting her lips was what slipped between the lines that stretched across her bottom lip like
prison bars. Pieces of hair clung to her damp forehead as she yelled out the numbers along with everyone else crammed together in that red bricked bar.
“Happy New Year!” The cacophony of voices rang through my ears, but it was her voice that I heard above everyone else’s. A tall, slender woman that was standing next to me with her back to the bar and a tumbler of something that looked like vodka nudged into me. With a perfectly arched eyebrow lifted in question, she pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that tasted like strawberry lip gloss and smelled of vodka. For those few seconds, she closed her eyes in what looked like the sweetest kiss amongst two adults with a hungry appetite, but these weren’t the lips that I wanted pressed against mine. I peered over the woman’s shoulder to see Hailey pecked on the cheek by her sister before her brother’s lips were dangerously close to her mouth. Even in her drunken state, I could tell that she wasn’t expecting a kiss from him, much less one that was anywhere close to her lips. She squirmed out of his embrace and away from his lips to sing “Auld Lang Syne” as the instrumental poured from the speakers.
Seeing his lips on hers was like a knife thrust into my stomach, ripping up through my chest, gutting me like a fish. It felt like all of my insides were spilled at my feet to make room for the thick hate and anger that seeped from my veins flooding my body until my skin was vibrating with tension. I didn’t stay for the remainder of the song, not after I started feeling like I might go on a rampage.
I made my way back to the car, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as every move away from her felt like I was moving through quicksand. The keys dangled from the ignition as I sat on cold leather seats that bit into my legs. My car was parked down the way from the bar entrance, but I still had a perfect view of the front door that people milled around. In the darkness of my car with only the faint light of the streetlamp illuminating the dashboard, I made up my mind. I needed to put together a plan to have Hailey mine. My days of watching had come to an end. She sealed it with a kiss.
