by Vi Carter
“What’s your biggest fear?” I ask again because I want to know. I want to know everything about her.
“Getting attached to someone.” The words leave her lips that still have blood on them. I reach for the cloth and clean up her leg.
“That’s your fear?” I hate that we have the same fear. My gaze flickers to hers and I pause in cleaning her leg. Her eyes swim with tears. Tears that I don’t want her to spill. I have no idea what has brought this on.
“What about you?” She asks while she blinks and I expect tears to fall but they don’t.
“Rats.” I lie easily as I clean my cum off her leg. I don’t know if she’s fucking with my head by making me want her in more ways than one. I get off the bed and dump the cloth into the thrash before I start to get dressed. She doesn’t move and each time I look at her she’s lying in the same position. I pause with a weird need of wanting to know what is going through her mind.
“What are you thinking?” I take a step back to the bed but don’t get up on it.
She’s staring at me. “Nothing.”
She shuts down and I grab that. I’m happy to leave it at that. The more I’m around her, the more I want to be around her. This isn’t good. Especially since she is my prisoner and she should be dead. I have no idea where we go from here.
I pull on a clean pair of boxers and put my trousers back on. I get her clothes that I had gotten for her yesterday and lay them on the bed beside her.
I pull on my top and don’t say anything as I leave her alone in the room. Too fucking much swirls in my mind and most of it I don’t want to acknowledge.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SCARLETT
I ache everywhere. I haven’t moved since he left the room. A giggle dribbles from my lips. He is afraid of rats. If I could only get my hands on some rats, I could put them in his bed. I roll onto my side and draw my legs up to my chest as my vision blurs. Heartburn causes saliva to pool in my mouth; I’ve been suffering with heartburn since living on the streets. I tighten my eyes and my tears spill.
There is something terrifying about the softness of the bed under me, it’s a reminder of where I used to lie. The fear that used to tighten itself around me when I heard the third top step creak late at night. I knew this was it. I knew I couldn’t stop it as my uncle pushed open the bedroom door that he refused to let me lock. I’m far too old now to lie here any longer like this; yet, it’s like I’ve trained my body to do so. Stay still and it won’t be real. That’s what I had told myself. Inside my head, I would crawl to the darkness that waited for me as the bed took his weight. I withered as his hand groped me. The smell of alcohol on his breath, sent my heart racing, yet I knew my breathing needed to remain the same. I needed to remain asleep. He’s jerking behind me as he touches me and I bite my jaw. I have so many scars inside my mouth from years of biting it to keep the screams in. The screams for this to stop, yet if I spoke, it would be real. It can’t be real. I’m not the type of girl who gets abused. That happens to someone in another country, not me.
I drag my knees up higher and sink my teeth into my kneecap which has small white scars from me doing this often. I’m laughing and crying, because I just had sex with my kidnapper.
“Are you okay?”
As I jerk up, my eyes land on Dean who watches me.
No. I’m not okay.
The flash of the silver gun in the black box springs to mind. My stomach twists as I look into dark eyes. It is the only way I can get out of here. I don’t want him to see what I’m thinking. My stomach quivers with a sickness at the thoughts that race through my mind. He had so easily taken me outside and put that gun to my head. I know he hadn’t killed me, but he had thought about it. What would it take the next time for him to pull the trigger? If I disobeyed him? If I said something that he didn’t like?
“Are you hungry?”
I’m always hungry. The words seep right back into my fragile mind. Fear takes root for so many different reasons.
His eyes drift to my lips and my tongue flicks out. As I lick them, I can taste blood that has seeped from the inside of my mouth. The beat of my heart grows faster and louder as he continues to stare at my mouth.
“No.” It is a lie. But I don’t think I could honestly keep anything down right now.
He shifts closer and my delicate heart can’t take much more of him. I won’t be able to keep myself together and I knew there is something wrong with me. “Can I get dressed, please?”
My fingers tighten around the quilt under me as something flashes in his eyes and I fear I’ve pissed him off.
“Why were you laughing?”
I grin, but I don’t know why. This couldn’t get much worse. Or maybe it could. Maybe I could end up wanting to stay here with him. That thought has my heart hammering as he waits for me to answer.
“Why am I here?” I fire back. Am I trying to provoke him?
His gaze pins me to the spot before he turns on his heel and leaves the room.
I get out of the bed and grab the blue t-shirt and sweatpants along with the socks that he had left out for me. My feet complain as I step out onto the floor and race to the bathroom.
The water is warm as it drizzles down my back, but I’m hunched over and can’t enjoy the wash. There are too many reminders of my past. The closer I get to Dean, the closer I’m getting to the past. He’s making me think, he’s making me feel, and it’s not fair.
My hands run across my stomach and so do Dean’s, his light a fire along my skin; older hands touch me now, and I quickly step away from the water’s spray and wipe the water from my eyes. I look around the room as blood pounds in my ears. What is happening to me?
I want to call Dean, I want to see him. I want to know this is real. I push my back against the cold tiles, my heart starts to slow as I press my aching palms against them and I start to sing. I sing low as I try to calm myself. I sing about a dying child and a broken hearted mother. I sing what my father sang. I sing the heartache that smashes into my chest. I don’t stop until my head stops spinning and my vision clears. Only then do I get out and start to get dressed. I find it hard to meet my own eyes in the mirror. Rings circle under them and there is a part of me that’s ready to lie down and let it be, whatever it’s meant to be. But I see Scarlett at ten years of age, begging me not to give up on her.
My feet appreciate the cushion from the socks on my soles. They sting as I step out into the hallway. I need to get the gun from the sitting room without him noticing. The hallway is clear and I decide that if I’m really going to do this, I need to keep him busy, I need to be smart about this. I need to get out of here before it completely destroys me. It’s taking a toll on my mind.
“Dean.” When I say his name, my voice cracks, giving away how nervous I am.
Pull it together.
He seems startled and looks up at me from the counter. I’m not sure what he’s looking at, but he stuffs something back under the counter and out of my line of sight.
“I am actually hungry.” I try to smile at him but it feels odd on my face, so I stop. He’s observing me and I try not to shift under his scrutiny.
“What can I make you?” Guilt churns in my stomach as he smiles at me.
I shrug. “I’m easy.”
He studies me a bit longer and there is something that flashes across his eyes before he nods.
“Okay.”
“I’ll go tidy the room.” I’m lingering. I don’t want to do this, but I remind myself that he backed me into a corner. He kidnapped me. Took my pendant. That’s all I need to leave the room.
“Kate.”
I look back at him and his pause is long. For one split second, I fear he can read my mind and he knows what I’m about to do. But he smiles.
“What’s your favorite sandwich?”
“Banana with just one spoonful of sugar.” My throat clogs again as I picture me eating one, sitting on a black and silver chair beside my father’s coffin. My legs swung from th
e height as I ate it while waiting for him to come back for me.
He nods again and I move quickly down the hall before I change my mind. I duck into the sitting room and move the shelf as quietly as I can. Taking out the black box, I rub my hands along my sweatpants drying off some of the sweat before opening the box. The silver gun feels heavy in my hands. My stomach plummets as I see there is only one bullet left. There were more. He must have used them. I don’t remember him leaving. I glance up at the door expecting to see him standing there but the doorway is empty. I take the bullet and have to fidget with the gun to get it open but I manage to do it. Sliding in the bullet, I close the gun and twist the revolver. I had never fired a gun and now having only one bullet, I can’t miss. If I do, he will kill me.
I don’t tuck the gun into the waistband of my sweats, fear of shooting myself has me holding it with both hands as I walk back out into the empty hallway. I can hear him moving around in the kitchen and I push the guilt aside. I step into the kitchen area and I hesitate. I don’t want to point the gun at him in case it goes off. He turns and he doesn’t blink as his eyes trail down to the gun in my hand.
“Give me the code. I just want to leave.” My voice trembles.
“No,” he says it clearly as he places the banana sandwich on the table.
I raise the gun and hate how I tremble as I point it at him. “This gun is loaded and I will fire.” I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.
“You can’t leave, Kate.”
“Open the fucking door.” My fear has my voice growing and he looks nervous now. “I just want to go.”
“Where? Where would you go?”
“What kind of question is that? I’m not going to tell you.”
He takes a step towards me, like I’m not a threat. “You were on the streets. Would you go back there? Or what? Go to your uncle?”
My hands grow steadier and I’m ready to pull the trigger. “You think this is better?”
“Yes.” His answer is quick and honest.
A laugh leaves my lips. “You kidnapped me. I’m being held here against my will.”
“Have I hurt you?” He takes another step and I raise the gun higher.
“Just let me go.” My stomach twists, where do I go? Back onto the streets he is right. Is this better? No. It had to be my choice and right now, I didn’t have one.
“Open the door or I will shoot.”
“No, you won’t.” He’s nearly right in front of me. If he wanted, he could reach out and take the gun. “Just think clearly for a second. You have a roof over your head and food on your table.” He holds up his hands like he’s really trying to reason with me.
“It’s not my choice!” I roar and he takes a step back. “Open the door.”
I know he won’t. I can see it in his eyes. “If you pull the trigger, you won’t get out. You’ll die in here. I’m the only one with the code.”
I am in a coffin. My stomach quivers and I swallow down the bile that climbs up my throat.
Closing my eyes, something overtakes me and I pull the trigger. The bang sends me spinning, but when I open my eyes, my blood drains down into my feet. I’ve never seen him so angry. His dark eyes are as black as an abyss that I’m falling into. I keep pulling the trigger and the chamber keeps spinning.
“You pulled the trigger.” His words are angry.
Tears trickle from my eyes. I keep pulling the trigger until he rips the gun easily from my hands.
“You knew!” I cry as the gun hits the wall, denting it.
He reaches into his pocket and takes out a handful of bullets.
“Is this what you want?” He moves towards me and I step back. A bullet hits my chest before it bounces on the floor.
“You pulled the trigger!” He roars and I can’t get away from his anger as the remaining bullets rain down on me before bouncing onto the wooden floor. My back hits the wall and he towers over me.
“You pulled the trigger!” His roar is filled with hurt and I scream as his fist hits the wall at the side of my head.
His anger is choking me. I knew he would be, but this is too much.
“Of course I did. I want out!” I scream at him.
His fist hits the wall again and I want to crawl away from him.
His hands find my hair and he leans into me. His forehead touches mine. I can’t breathe with him this close.
“I can’t let you leave.” His words have me opening my eyes. He releases my hair before pressing his fist against my face and I fear that this is it, he will kill me. His eyes hold nothing but murder in them. He pushes his fist against my cheek and I cry out. He’s gone and I slowly slide down the wall as my knees buckle.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DEAN
She’s still crying and I try to control the need to return to the living space and demand her to tell me why she pulled the trigger. That’s exactly what happens when you start to trust someone. They try to fucking kill you.
I get out the phone and switch it on. I have a message from Gage. He wants me to ring him. We have a meeting point. I reach into my safe and take out another loaded gun. If she had found that one, she would have emptied it into me. I grab what I need and pause in the living space. She’s still sitting on the floor. Her eyes flick towards me and I hate the hollowness I see in them. I’m ready to leave but I gather up all the bullets off the floor and gun. I don’t threaten her; I want to, but I think we have moved beyond that point.
I know I need distance from her and her madness. I leave, and once I’m outside, a part of me feels a want. I ignore it as I climb into the truck.
“Did he say where?”
“Can you meet me?” Gage answers my question with one of his own.
“Yeah, I’m leaving now.”
He pauses and I’m wondering what else he wants to say. “Okay.” He seems to reconsider and ends the call.
I back away from the house and I can’t stop the emptiness that seems to stretch the further I get from Kate.
Gage is waiting for me at the entrance to the park. I pull up at the sidewalk and stuff the gun in the glove compartment before getting out. I’m looking around me, wondering if anyone is watching us, ready to pounce. Each building is a possible threat. I’d never seen them as a problem, but I’d never been blackmailed before.
I walk up to Gage, who has stopped under a large oak tree. It’s drizzling, but that seems to be the weather lately.
“You look like shit.” Gage greets me.
My irritation at being here has me scratching my neck. “What did you find out?”
“Thursday, they want to meet you here at noon.”
I start to walk. “In two days.”
“I reached out to some people and no one seems to know anything, but you know this isn’t about fifty grand.”
I glance at Gage. He is right. “Yeah, I know. Someone wants me dead.”
He nods. “You have two choices. You can either meet this person, or let the girl go and go into hiding.”
My stomach twists and I grin. “I’m not letting her go.”
Gage’s hand tightens around my forearm stopping me. “This isn’t a fucking joke.”
I pull my arm from his hold. “I fucking know that.”
“She could be part of this. Have you thought of that?”
“Kate isn’t.” I answer far too quickly.
There is an uncomfortable look in Gage's eye. “I want to meet her and question her.”
I grin at him. “No. If you have any questions, just ask me.” The thought of anyone being around Kate has me wanting to get into my truck and drive home to her.
“You clearly haven’t asked her the right questions.”
“Say what you really want to say.” He thinks she’s dead. I can see it in his eyes.
“Is she alive?”
I fucking knew it. “Yes.” I grit out through my teeth.
“Have you hurt her?” Now my brother won’t look at me. “Just let me meet her and ask a few
questions. She might answer them. Women tend to be more comfortable with me.”
Gage’s voice has softened and I look at him. “I don’t fucking know why.”
He grins and I find myself grinning back. I can’t bring him to Kate, no one knows where I live. I won’t reveal that. Taking her out has my stomach twisting.
“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours,” I say, and surprise flitters through his eyes.
“With her?”
I’m regretting it already but it’s Gage. “Yeah.”
He nods and I walk back to the truck. I can still just go home and hunker down, but if they have Gage’s number, then they knew he is my brother and he is in danger too.
I don't return straight to the house. I pull up at a large store that sells a bit of everything. I need to get Kate clothes and some supplies. I spend far too long in the lingerie department. Two women stare at me and I wish I had my gun to wave in their faces so they would run along. I don’t get any lingerie. I need to get back. I take jeans and t-shirts, along with boots, socks, and plain underpants to the counter. I also grab a green army jacket for her. With everything loaded into the truck, I drive back.
She’s not still sitting on the floor and I drop the bags. “Kate!” I call, not leaving the living space. I remove the gun from the band of my trousers. I’m waiting for her to charge with some sort of weapon, but she softly steps into the living room. Her hair is wet from a recent shower and she’s wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants. Her large ocean eyes widen and I lower the gun.
Her eyes follow my movements until I tuck it back into the band of my trousers.
“We are going out.”
She’s shaking her head. “I don’t want to. I’m fine here.”
Me too.
“It’s not a choice,” I say and point at the bags. “Get dressed.”
She takes a step towards the bags but her eyes don’t leave me. “Are you going to kill me?”
Her face has paled and everything feels wrong about taking her outside. She’s safe in here.
