Bound: A Caged Novella

by D H Sidebottom

Mel sighed loudly after she closed the door behind the crew that had turned my house upside down, and swept her eyes over the mess. “This calls for wine.”

  Unable to stop the manic burst of laughter that broke from me, Mel rushed across the room and pulled me in close to her chest. My tears soaked her white t-shirt, and being an ‘ample’ and ‘outgoing’ girl, I couldn’t help but notice the vivid red spots on her bra through the damp material. “Jesus, Mel.” I laughed louder when I realised they weren’t actually spots, but penises.

  Her grin made me laugh harder. “See what a good friend I am, Jeanie? I always manage to make you smile, even on the worse days.”

  She laughed with me, and I laughed with her. And that night we both got blind drunk, gorged on sloppy pizza, and cried each other to sleep.

  Five

  Anderson

  Jeanie looked bloody awful. The bags under her eyes were darker than yesterday. Her hands shook harder, and her movements were jittery.

  She leaned over Sam’s bed to tuck in his sheet and I took hold of her hand, stopping her. Her eyes widened but her gaze found mine. The fear and horror staring at me made me wince.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, stiffly, and smiled, falsely, but didn’t verbally answer my question.

  There was something hypnotic in the way she looked at me, like she begged me for something I wasn’t sure of, asked me for hope, and pleaded with me to help her. Her chest heaved the longer we stared at each other, her breathing deepened, and very slowly she turned her hand until her palm fit snugly against mine. Her hand was cool against the warmth of my skin.

  My eyes dropped to our joined hands. I couldn’t understand why it felt so good to have such tiny fingers encased in my large hand, yet I accepted that it felt right.

  Breaking the moment, Jeanie snatched her hand back. Her face was flustered and she tore her eyes away. “I’m so sorry, Mr Cain.”

  “Sorry? What for?”

  Shaking her head, she didn’t answer and fiddled with Sam’s sheets, although his bed was already perfectly made. “Sam’s temperature has dropped, which is very promising.”

  I knew she was diverting, but allowed her to go with it. “I’m hoping whatever this is is finally fucking off.”

  She didn’t appear offended by my language, but in her line of work I imagined she’d heard much worse.

  “I’ll take some more bloods and hopefully they’ll show an improvement.”

  “Sam’s mother is dead.”

  We both appeared shocked with my sudden blunt declaration, and if I was honest, even I wasn’t sure where it had come from, or why I needed her to know.

  The distance that had grown between us since Jeanie had pulled her hand from mine instantly vanished. She swiftly moved around the bed, the sadness on her face subduing the previous look of shame. Taking my hand again, she, this time, linked her fingers through mine. “I’m so sorry. That must be so hard on Sam.”

  “Not really. Kloe died giving life to Sam. He’s never met her, but I make sure he knows all about her.”

  Confusion seeped into my mind, uncertain at why it felt so easy to say what I always kept hidden inside.

  “It’s good that you keep her alive in every way you can, Sam needs that.”

  “I can’t lose him too.” My mouth dried and I winced at the weakness in my voice.

  Her grip on my hand tightened. “You won’t lose him. He’s responding well to treatment, and his stats are improving every minute.” She smiled softly and leaned closer towards me. “I bet, by the end of the week, you’re tucking him up in his own bed.”

  The subtle scent of coconut surrounded me when her long hair fell over her shoulder towards me. Instinctively, unable to stop myself, I reached out and took a long, red curl between my fingers. It was so silky, and the feel of it as it ran through my fingers made me sigh. Kloe’s hair had always mesmerised me too, and my heart ached with the pang of sadness.

  We both jerked back when the door opened and a tall, thin doctor strode in. His face was stern but his eyes were down as he read a chart held in his hands, mine and Jeanie’s strange moment unseen.

  Finally looking up, he jerked out his hand abruptly towards me. “Dr Ivor Longbottom.”

  Jesus. Really?

  Jeanie lowered her face, trying to hide her laughter at the shock on my face, but very subtly she shook her head, warning me to rein the hilarity in.

  Biting into my bottom lip to constrain the laughter, I took his hand in mine and shook it. “Anderson Cain.”

  Ivor nodded sharply and then turned towards Sam. “Looks like your boy is mending nicely.”

  Mending nicely?

  That was all he said, before he about-turned and walked back out.

  “Wow.”

  Jeanie broke into the laughter she had managed to confine, and I couldn’t help but join her. “Shit, has the man never heard of deed poll?”

  “I have no idea how even he keeps a straight face when he introduces himself,” Jeanie chuckled.

  I stilled. The transformation in her was stunning. Her laugh was so free, the blue of her eyes twinkling and splintering the fear that always seemed resident. Her face glowed as she held her side, “And he’s just so blunt that it makes it even funnier.”

  I nodded, blinking as I looked away from her. “Great conversationalist. It surprises me how he works with children.”

  “He’s not much at face value, but he’s a good doctor.” Suddenly a sadness seeped over her, and she swallowed. “And a good boss. He’s been there when I’ve needed…”

  She shuddered and stood up quickly, shaking her body as if to rid herself of an ache.

  “You’ve needed what?”

  Smiling, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s my break time, you fancy a coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  My bones ached when I stood up and I realised I’d been sat for over four hours just holding onto Sam’s hand. Rolling my head around my shoulders, I stretched my back and smiled at Jeanie. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  Once again, her laugh captivated me. It was a perfect sound, and very contagious. “Seriously?” she giggled. “You’re having me on!”

  “No.” I smirked. “I’m not.”

  The way her eyes had lit up when I told her I was a fighter had surprised me. I’d expected her to be a timid and reserved little thing, but she was quite the opposite, which drew me to her even more.

  “He offered to give me his dog if I didn’t tell his fiancé how small his dick was. So, naturally, me and Red became best friends.”

  “Red?”

  “The dog,” I chuckled.

  Her smile widened. “I have a cat called Blue. She’s a long-haired Russian blue. And a damn diva!” She swept her hand out in gesture to her words and sent the salt pot flying across the room. It hit the leg of the table next to us and spun across the floor. “Oops.”

  I tried to keep my eyes off her arse when she went to retrieve it, but the way her work trousers hung loosely off her hips drew my attention. She was too thin, and gathering from the holes in her clothes, I figured she didn’t even have any spare cash to spend on food.

  Yet, when she bent down, those thoughts vanished. My breath caught when her tunic slid up her back slightly. Welts, scars, and various marks decorated her beautiful pale skin, and those were only the ones bared by the rise of her top. God only knew what was higher up.

  She frowned at me when she sat back down, and tilted her head slightly. “You okay?”

  Rage engulfed me, and unable to stop myself, I yanked at her hand, almost dragging her across the table. “Who the fuck did that to your back?”

  Her eyes widened and on instinct she reached behind her, pulling her tunic down over her backside. “I don’t think…”

  “I don’t care what you think.” My voice was a growl, the anger in me too potent to curb. On one hand, I couldn’t understand my reaction to something that had nothing to do with me, yet, on the other, there wa
s something about her that begged to be protected, to be shielded from all the shit she had going on in life.

  There was the raw instinct that lived inside me which wanted to protect her - just like I had wanted to protect Kloe. However, it was the sight of seeing scars which matched my own, and welts that painted the same picture, that flicked a switch inside me and lit a fire in my belly. A perfect mirror image of my own incurably fucked-up life called out to something in my soul and pleaded with it for a connection.

  “Who did that?” Although the rage in my head was deafening, I spoke quietly, forcing myself to calm down.

  Snatching her hand away, her face turned puce and she glared at me. “I don’t have to defend myself to you, and I really don’t see what concern it is of yours.”

  She stared after me when I stormed from the cafeteria before I made a show of myself and ripped off her top to see what other secrets she held under that drab, slack work uniform. I had a feeling she had plenty of secrets. Ones I was confident I would find out.

  Six

  Jeanie

  Shame twisted the roots of my heart. No wonder Anderson had been sickened by the sight of the scars. They were wrong and dirty, and… and perfect.

  They each looked even more beautiful in the mirror. Every way I turned, a new and undiscovered mark caught my attention.

  Three years it had been, and I missed him every second of every day. Some wore tattoos in memory of loved ones, their names inscribed into the skin. I wore my scars with pride, his adoration carved into my soul. They were the only physical reminder I had of him.

  Reaching behind me to fasten my bra, I ran a finger over one, the shadow of indulgence sending the spark of a memory into my mind.

  “Set it free, little bird.”

  The bite of pleasure spread out over every inch of me as the leather tore through my skin, liberating the darkness from inside my body and filling the void it left behind with ecstasy.

  “Violence,” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath driving a deep desire into the core of my bones, “is a perfect complement to your gentleness.”

  The cuffs around my wrists chaffed my skin when the next strike swayed my suspended body, the trickle of blood down my arm and the taste of pain it brought detonating my orgasm and ripping a raw scream from the centre of my belly.

  “You always give me so much, Jean. You honour me.”

  Unbuckling the restraints and lifting my trembling body in his large arms, he pulled me into the security of his tight embrace. The rhythm of his heartbeat in my ear kept pace with my quick, sharp breaths.

  “You’re getting unfit, little bird.” He laughed, but I nodded, agreeing with him.

  “I think I should cut back on the chocolate.”

  He squeezed me harder, dropping a soft kiss to the top of my head. Laying me face down on the bed, he grabbed the pot of ointment from the bedside table and started to tend to the fresh welts. “Don’t you dare. I like you with a bit of a wobble.”

  “You cheeky sod!” I declared, unable to hide my grin at his teasing. “I’ll have you know I work hard on this wobble.”

  Gently turning me over, he slid his hand down my side and spread his fingers over my stomach. “I’m thinking this needs to get bigger. A lot bigger.”

  I harrumphed, scowling up at him. “I’m already carrying too many pounds, I don’t want to add to it.” I couldn’t quite understand why he wanted me chubbier when my hips and stomach already held an extra layer they shouldn’t.

  “I’m not talking about carrying pounds,” he said softly as he tilted my head back with a finger under my chin. “I’m talking about a tiny life.”

  My throat closed in and panic tore through my veins. I’d always dreaded that this would come. I had never found the strength to bring the subject up, or to deal with it. Sadness overwhelmed me, and I lowered my eyes. It was time. Swallowing the cowardice, I forced my mouth to open, and broke my own heart, along with Andy’s. “I can’t.”

  He tensed, hearing the regret in my voice. “What do you mean you can’t?”

  Andy had never hidden the fact that he doted on children, and that one day he wanted his own football team. I’d never actually lied and told him that one day we would have a family when he’d spoken about it. Instead, every time he’d broached the subject, I had changed it or made an excuse to dash off.

  “I can’t have children.”

  He moved me from him and sat up, frowning down at me. “What? We’ve been married for three years, why have you never told me this before? Why would you lie to me?” His temper was growing, as was my guilt and shame.

  Unable to look at him, I dropped my gaze and battled away the tears that were stinging my eyes. With every word my heart broke a little more. And so did my marriage. “I had an abortion when I was fifteen. The procedure damaged the lining of my womb and I had to have a hysterectomy when they couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

  His face paled and shock widened his eyes. “But… You have periods…”

  The tears finally rolled, hot and heavy down my face, when very slowly I shook my head.

  “Jesus Christ, Jean!” He shot off the bed and stared down at me. I couldn’t look at him, the disappointment on his face ripped through my heart. “So, every month, you pretended to have a period?”

  His hands fisted when I nodded and wiped at the tears that were careering off my chin.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  The look of disgust in his eyes when I reached out for him haunted me for many years.

  I jumped when the doorbell chimed. Grateful for the disruption to my shameful thoughts, I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me.

  Surprised to see a huge bouquet of flowers screening the delivery guy stood holding them, I frowned and took them from him. “Are you sure you have the right address?”

  His face was lowered when I looked up but he nodded. “Yep.”

  “Bloody rude,” I grumbled quietly when he rushed away, leaving me gawping after him.

  Locking the door behind me, habit making me slide every bolt into their housings, I took a huge sniff of the flowers and smiled. There was no card, which confused me. Allowing the sweet gesture from an unknown give me a smile, I took another deep inhalation of their fragrance and started to arrange them in a tall vase.

  “Aren’t they pretty, Blue?” I grinned down at her when she curled herself around the bottom of my legs.

  I’d managed to place a few stems into the water before my head started to swim and my eyes grew heavy. Exhaustion suddenly hit me and I shook myself. I needed to cut back on the wine. I’d been drinking too much lately.

  My legs wobbled and I grabbed hold of the worktop to steady myself. The side of my head bounced off the floor when my body gave in to the sudden lethargy. I didn’t even have the strength to groan at the pain that shot through my brain.

  Instead, I closed my eyes and slept.

  Seven

  Anderson

  Red disappeared down the side of the large, red brick house. The good condition of the building surprised me. Like the holes in her clothes, I think I had expected her home to be the same.

  Another bout of frustration made me clench my teeth after the fourth knock remained unanswered. I’d paid quite a wad of money for her address, and if Benny had fucked me over, I’d be fucking him over too, physically.

  Red barked from towards the back of the house and I followed the sound, avoiding the brambles that grew over the back gate. It was obvious this entrance wasn’t used often.

  The garden was considerably large, the grass a little overgrown, but the patio area was laden with well-groomed pot plants and small shrubs. A small wrought iron table with only one chair told me she lived alone, and a plant pot full of cigarette butts exposed she was a smoker, which pleased me. There was nothing worse than a woman who got uptight when I lit up – especially after I’d been inside them.

  Unease slithered through me when I spotted Red whining and scratching at some ta
ll French windows. Trusting her ‘call for help’ I rushed over.

  “Fuck!”

  Jeanie lay face down on the kitchen floor, a narrow river of blood trickling from her head across the pale grey lino.

  Without a thought, I turned, picked up a brick, and smashed the window.

  Red leapt in front of me, licking at Jeanie’s wound as I knelt beside her. She didn’t flinch when I shook her in attempt to wake her, but the very faint groan from her eased the tension in my chest.

  Without hesitating, I yanked my phone from my pocket and called an ambulance.

  ***

  Her groan of pain made me sit upright. I’d been sat by her bed for the last four hours, waiting for her to wake. According to the doctors, and the police, the flowers sat on her worktop had contained a chemical of some sort that had knocked her out. They’d determined that she’d only been out for a matter of minutes when I had got to her, luckily.

  “Jeanie?”

  Her eyes opened and she blinked a couple of times before she focussed on me. “Anderson?”

  “How are you feeling?”

  She tried to move, but groaned and rested her head back down on the pillow. “Like I’ve been hit by a car.”

  I gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ve been lucky. The bump to your head was only superficial, although with the amount of blood, I’m fucking surprised.”

  “Head wounds always bleed more because there are tons of blood vessels.”

  The nurse in her made me smile.

  “What happened?” She managed to shift into a sitting positon and I passed her the cup of water that sat on the cabinet.

  “Some fucker laced your flowers.”

  She sighed, and closed her eyes. “How could I be so stupid?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I contemplated her statement. “You say that like you expected it.”

  “Hmm.”

  We both turned when the door opened and an Asian policewoman smiled at Jeanie. “Bloody hell!”