by J. C. Cliff
Having three days to stew and digest what happened between Travis and me has left me utterly-deflated. I’d like to think he would take me back under his wing again and protect me from Nick, just long enough until I’m rescued. Of course, I’d be setting myself up for the same humiliating and self-induced misery. Fool me once, shame on you…and all that jazz. I turn my head toward the door, half-expecting to see Travis come through it at any moment, telling me my punishment is over. Maybe when I see him next, he’ll tell me he was just angry, and now that he’s had time to cool off, he would tell me he’s sorry and give me back my medallion. God, I really want my mother’s piece of jewelry back; I feel so bare without it.
Nick never did show his face after I toppled over the custom-made birthday cake. I’m glad. I wouldn’t have been able to take any more punishment of any kind. I would’ve begged for death if that were the case. After Travis took my medallion, he ripped my heart and soul out. The bastard left me hanging on that cross for three hours before someone finally came along and took me down, and it was someone I hadn’t seen before. They must have thought I would either be suicidal or homicidal, because they drugged me again. At the time, I was leaning more toward the latter myself.
I find myself chewing on my thumbnail, still studying the door. My gosh, I can’t imagine what I’d be feeling right now if I was still taking those drugs. I’d be climbing the walls, sexually frustrated, and out of my mind—literally and figuratively. Blyss really had my reasoning skills twisted in a pretzel knot. Hell, I’d been fantasizing about Travis twenty-four-seven. That’s pretty messed-up.
Even days after quitting the aphrodisiac, I found myself still struggling to think straight. That concoction, just let me tell you, is some seriously powerful shit. I could feel myself going through a withdrawal phase, going back and forth in seconds between wanting to have wild, passionate sex with Travis and simultaneously wanting to murder him, and I had even contemplated taking just one pill to help me get over the hump, but I refused. I would wake up in the middle of the night sweating profusely, and at times during the day, I would find myself shaking uncontrollably.
Figuring out a way to dispose of that shit was one of the best ingenuities I’ve ever come up with in my entire life. Now, if I could just apply some of those brain cells to finding a way out of here.
I let out a sigh. It’s time to keep myself moving. Having an idle mind drives me nuts, but sitting around doing nothing is even worse. I bend down, scooting the coffee table out of the way, getting the area ready so I can do another workout. I turn on the TV and begin flipping through the channels on the remote control. I pause in my channel surfing when I hear my door opening. I turn toward the door, and my eyes alight with glee at the sight of a visitor.
It’s Travis, and oh, God, he’s a sight for sore eyes. He looks his usual handsome and edible self, and damn if I don’t hate myself a little bit more for being so starved for attention, especially his. Setting the remote down on the coffee table, I take a step toward him then stop in my tracks when I notice he still looks angry. I feel my heart falter; something isn’t right, and my brow furrows. My lips turn down into a questioning frown as he slowly approaches. Travis’ stance is rigid, and his demeanor holds a chilling aura all around him. My eyes flash over his; he’s making me nervous.
The look on his face tells me he’s all business, and he’s glaring at me. His eyes are stone-cold. I swallow the lump in my throat. There is no way he can still be this angry over what happened three days ago. Surely, we can get past this, can’t we?
I had planned to ask him about my medallion the next time he came to see me, but by the looks of him, I dare not utter a word. It appears that if things were messed-up before between us, they are lying in a heap of shambles now.
His eyes have no life to them; his emotions are totally shut down. “Have you learned anything…anything at all yet. Do you now understand there is no escape.” These are not actual questions, only cold, harsh statements. Memories from the wrath he released upon me three days ago begin washing over me anew. I want to fall to my knees and cry. “From now on, you do as you’re told; this was the last time any solitary confinement will ensue after an outburst. The next time we have to contend with your...” he pauses, waving his hand around in the air with a look of distaste in his mouth, “…behavior, you will have an entirely different set of punishments raining down on you.”
My eyes widen with shock, and my neck stretches forward. Am I hearing this right? Travis has plastered new brick and mortar over the cracks and crevices of his heart, leaving me on the outside in the cold. My gut twists, because gone is the consoling Travis I had from day one.
“Acknowledge me when I speak to you!” His loud voice thunders across the room, and my body automatically jolts, taking a step backwards. I swallow hard. I don’t know what the hell to say, other than, “Yes, sir.”
Apparently, that’s what he wanted, because he nods his head once in acceptance. He snaps his fingers with a sharp crack and points to the floor in front of him. “On your knees.” Suddenly, my legs feel weak. Surely this isn’t...”Now! Never hesitate, and if I say it again, you will spend more than just three hours tied to that cross,” his brows lift and his forehead crinkles, “and trust me—it will be far more unpleasant for you than it will be for me.”
I’m flabbergasted. This isn’t what I expected at all. I move quickly, my heart knocking against my ribcage. My body sinks down on shaky legs as I kneel down on the cold, hard tile in front of his towering frame. Peering through my eyelashes, looking up, I suppose I must look like a doe at the mercy of a hunter.
“Anytime someone walks through this door from now on, I expect you front and center in this position. I don’t care if you’re in bed or on the toilet; you make haste.”
“Yes, sir,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Nick is taking over now. This is where the shit gets real, Princess. No one is going to hold your hand anymore, especially me. If you disrespect Nick, even in the slightest, he will have your skin.” I shiver, knowing without a doubt Nick will rip my flesh clean off using one of those whips. I nod my head in acknowledgment.
He’s fast—so fast, I didn’t even see him move. I suddenly feel a hot prickling sensation, and throbbing ensues from the back of my head. I’m instantly eye-to-eye with an angry Travis. His one hand is mercilessly entwined in the hair on the back of my head in a death grip. “What did I teach you?!” Oh, shit. “You nod your head one more time, and I’ll knock it off your fucking shoulders!” I swallow hard, believing him as I watch the muscles clench in his jaw.
His familiar leather scent wafts under my nose as his lips hover over mine. Looking at him, I think back to our first kiss. My tongue can almost remember what he tastes like. Just another couple of inches and he could close the gap between us, and press his lips to mine, but his eyes tell me he’s so far away.
I miss the feel of his touch, and how his strength contradicts his tender ministrations. I crave that feeling when my stomach flutters each time he delicately brushes his soft, tender lips over mine. I just want to lean in, close the distance myself, and take us back where we belong. Where is it I belong? I’ve only hurt myself by fantasizing, and I let myself lose track of what’s real. He wound up taking a piece of my flesh in the process—my heart—and what did he do with it? He ripped it in two.
My God, look at what I’ve reduced myself to! Am I a Stockholm victim? Am I crazy? Was I the only one who felt something when we were together? Of course, it’s hard for me to decipher whether or not either one of our feelings were valid, since they had me drugged the entire time.
The fleeting thought of closing the distance with a kiss evaporates when Travis’ grip tightens to the point I think he’s going to rip a clump of my hair out by its roots. My eyes bolt wide open from the pain as I cry out at the top of my lungs. I can barely manage to croak out, “Yes, sir,” because of the stinging pain.
He roughly lets go of my hair, and I feel my
head sway. My eyes flutter closed as I feel each hair follicle scream out in agony, and I find myself looking back up at him with incredulous disbelief. He’s never manhandled me so terribly before. I can now see how people literally piss their pants in this situation. The brutality of this sudden and intense terror intimidates me, and I know I am no match for this man.
I shake my head. I don’t want this side of Travis. I would rather have the master manipulator back. I tilt my head further back, looking into his hard gaze with wary caution. Trying to make amends, I softly whisper, “I’m so sorry. I…I never wanted this.” Catching my breath between words, I feel a few silent tears cascade over my cheeks. I can’t help it. “I never asked for this…but you…you…made life a little more bearable here…on the inside.” My voice is croaky, and I fight desperately against having a total breakdown. “I’m sorry for ruining that. I want—“
He bends down, his hands propping on his knees, and I watch his knuckles turn white from his hard grip. I shift my eyes back up to his as he gets in my face like a drill sergeant. “What you want, Princess, is inconsequential. I didn’t come here to listen to you whine and snivel.” His voice is hard as steel as his words slap me in the face. I drop my gaze back to the floor, letting my blonde hair create a barrier between us. The man in front of me is not the Travis I came to know. No, this is the emotionless and ruthless killer Travis I caught glimpses of the first day I met him when he wanted to snap the necks of those men who had handled me so brutality.
He’s harsh and uncaring, and I don’t see him switching gears anytime soon either. He’s had three days to cool off, and if the way he’s acting today is any indication of him relenting from the cruel treatment I’m receiving, it will be a cold day in Hell before he changes his mind.
“Tears aren’t going to save you, sweetheart, not anymore,” he says detestably. “You can shed those on your own time, not on mine.” His words bite, and in order to avert my emotional pain to physical, I sink my teeth into my lower lip hard. It doesn’t matter what I say or how I try to say it; the new protocol he’s putting in place for me is ringing loud and clear.
“From now on, you are not to speak unless you’re asked to respond. Your eyes will remain on the floor at all times from this moment forward.”
You know when you were a kid and your parent said not to touch the hot stove burner, but you just had to find out for yourself? Yeah, well, that was me. As soon as Travis said eyes down, my eyes trailed in the opposite direction.
“Eyes down!” His eyes flared as he barks out viciously. I force my gaze to the ground, clasping my hands together on my lap, twisting them in a knot, and desperately trying to keep them from visibly shaking. Surely, he can’t still be this hot under the collar from what happened at the birthday luncheon? What did I do? Oh, shit, maybe they found out about me cheating the biosensor toilet. My eyes go wide with worry, and my heart pounds in my chest at the thought of being busted. I remain quiet, though; I’m not stupid. I’m not going to spill the beans unless I’m called out on it.
“This shit can’t get any more real than it already is, little one. You belong to Nick. Nick owns you. The fun and games are over. You’ve had enough time to adjust.” My heart thrums loudly in my chest at his words. Then I feel his hand sweep over the top of my head, and I shiver. I want that touch to mean something different, but I know he’s petting me like he’s the owner of a dog. My stomach lurches, and I’m about to vomit on his shoes.
“Time to get with the program and stop throwing your tantrums, Princess. Time to suck it up and deal.”
“Yes, sir,” I say numbly. One day, I want to see how he deals when my father turns the tables on his sorry ass. Why do I do this to myself every single time? I always give people the benefit of the doubt and assume the best in them, even Travis. It’s clear as day to me now; I’ve refused to accept things for the way they really are. I’ve allowed myself to be unrealistic, impractical, and delusional, just to avoid reality.
“I’ll be gone for a couple of days.” His icy words descend from above my head and my blood turns to ice, coming to a screeching halt in my veins. “You need to be on your best behavior. Do you understand that?” No! I don’t want that. I won’t have anyone to run interference between Nick and me. My eyes blink rapidly forcing back the impending release of tears as I chastise myself for feeling so weak. I’m not sure which one of them is worse of two evils at this point anyway. Flip a coin, Jules.
“Yes, sir.” Then stupidly, forgetting my place, I lift my chin, look into his eyes through my glistening ones, and ask, “When do you leave?” I try hiding the worry beginning to creep over my features and voice. I don’t know what this means. I search his face, but he’s giving nothing away. I feel a million miles away from him at the moment, and despite his hard looks and terrifying actions, I know sweet Travis has to be in there somewhere. I miss him. I miss his protectiveness and everything we’ve shared over the past two weeks. I want the simple things back and perhaps just to hear him say he’s still got me. What I would give to hear him say those words right about now, but he does none of that.
He shakes his head at me and barks, “That’s none of your concern; you’re a slave. How’s that for a different perspective?” He cocks his head to the side. “Nick owns you. You need to remember your place, and you don’t get to ask the questions. You answer only when you’re told to speak.” I gasp loudly, my hand covering my mouth as I stare back up at him in shock. Slave? Oh. My. God. I’ve just been hit by a lethal stun gun, and it has stopped my heart from beating. I’m so bowled over by his words that I’m glad I’m on my knees, because I would have fallen if I was standing.
“I thought I told you not to speak or look up,” he growls, and his upper lip curls in, baring his teeth. “I guess you want to experience firsthand how that cat-o-nine tails works after all.” He’s reaches under my arms and effortlessly lifts my body up off the floor, and I think he’s actually going to follow through with his threat.
Pure, raw terror races through me, my heart beating wildly as I fight to catch a breath. I shake my head profusely, trembling in fear as a cold sweat starts to prickle at the back of my neck. “No, sir. Please, no, sir. I’ll behave.” I avert my eyes downward, praying he gives me this one last chance. The man is a monster; I don’t recognize him any longer. Of course, Jared said he would play me to get what he wanted, and like Travis said—playtime is over.
He backs me up against the curtained wall, and I feel the soft, velvety fabric of the red curtains brushing against my arms and legs, taunting me as I thank God Travis has kept them drawn shut. Travis presses my body into the outline of the cross as it hides behind the closed curtains, and forces my body against its hard shape. I tremble and shake, but I pray for mercy. Keeping my head bowed down, I don’t look at him or dare utter another word.
“Don’t test me again,” he grinds out through gritted teeth.
His heart isn’t made of stone; no, it’s made of something much harder than that. What’s harder than stone? I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter because either way, his heart has been mortared ten layers thick, and I know I’ll never be able to break through it. I whisper toward the floor, “Yes, sir.”
Did he just come in here for a showdown and to throw his weight around? What was the purpose, other than to finish ripping my heart into tiny shreds of confetti? I keep my gaze on the floor, tasting the metallic tang from my lower lip. My sight on the floor is getting fuzzy from unshed tears, but I refuse to cry, because if I do, I will fall flat at his feet and sob, begging him to stop this. Then I will really be the fool.
“I expect total submission from this second forward. No more leeway.”
“Yes, sir,” I shakily reply.
“There is a party of sorts in two days. You will have a gown delivered, and someone will be by to do your hair and makeup around four. You will comply, and you will not discredit our reputation with your outbursts. If I hear that you do, I will beat Nick to the punch and have yo
u gone before you can say, ‘sweet mother of Moses’.” My breath halts.
I feel his grip begin to loosen on me. “Remember, it’s just you and Nick from here on out.” His gruff and sobering words echo throughout the inner walls of my head.
With my eyes downcast, I watch through the veil of blonde strands covering my face as his black, shiny shoes begin a retreat, backing away from me. Nerves swirl in the pit of my stomach, making me feel queasy as he’s leaving me with new thoughts to digest. When my brain begins processing this information, all of his remarks bounce around in my head like ping pong balls in a bingo machine. Suddenly, my legs feel weak and shaky, and I realize just how much he’s rattled my nerves, but I hold steady.
I hear the door open, then I hear a ringing silence once the door clicks shut to my room. I really want to run to my bed, curl up on it, and cry a torrential downpour of tears, but I can’t give any of them the satisfaction of seeing my impending breakdown. I make my way to the bathroom on shaky legs while I can still see through my swimming eyes, and I watch my hand as it shakily reaches out for the spigot, turning on the shower water to scorching hot. I let the bathroom fill with heavy steam to cover the cameras. They will not see me cry.
Moving the shower curtain aside, I step over the threshold of the tub and into the stream. The scalding water immediately takes my breath away. I brace myself inside the tub, refusing to reduce the temperature. It feels as if a million tiny, hot, piercing pricks of acupuncture needles are breaking the surface of my skin. Pain. Pain is good. Pain averts my thoughts away from the mixed-up Hell I’m currently living in. I don’t know how much more I can mentally withstand. My sanity is hanging on by a mere thread.
I can see now why my father always insisted on bodyguards. I had no idea this type of danger even existed, especially for someone as simple as me. I had no clue my father had unseen enemies. If I would’ve known then what I know now, I would have taken extra steps of precaution. If I could go back in time, I would have done everything my father asked of me without complaint. I would have flown in private jets. I would have let him hire the extra bodyguards he wanted to. These are the times I wish I wasn’t so hardheaded. My defiance has definitely come back to bite me on the ass.
