by Jane Blythe
Carla shook her head as she wobbled, trying to get her footing as her body instinctively tried to move away from the pliers that were inflicting such horrific pain.
“You will learn,” he said, dropping the pliers and letting them fall to the floor where they landed with a clunk. “I am in control here. You do not do anything, anything, without my permission. You are mine, you came to me willingly, now I get to do with you whatever I want.”
She had come here willingly.
What a fool she had been.
If she had known what he was really like then she would never have come.
It had been a mistake, and one that she would no doubt regret for the rest of her life.
Her no doubt short life.
Abruptly, he released the rope attaching her wrists to the ceiling, and unbalanced, she dropped to her knees.
“That’s right,” he goaded her, “kneel before me. Kneel before your master. Kiss my feet,” he ordered.
Too afraid to do anything but what he told her to, she leaned down, flinching at the pain in her back, which was covered in open, bloody welts that ripped further open at the movement, but managing to hold in any sounds that might have escaped, Carla touched her lips to his shoes. She had never been so humiliated in all her life, and knowing that she had brought all of this on herself made it all so much worse.
“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked.
It seemed like he wanted an answer when he asked her an outright question, so she said, “No.”
“You’ll learn,” he told her, patting her head like she was a dog. “I’m going to train you just the way I want you, and soon you’ll forget about the before. You’ll forget who you were, you’ll forget about your old life, you’ll forget about everything but the fact that you are mine.”
Just days ago she was a vibrant, happy college student. She was nineteen, she should have the whole world at her feet. She was an adult now, free to live on her own and make her own plans for her future. She had been excited about her classes, and she loved her job at the little boutique clothing store she worked at because the owner would give her discounts on the new season stock. She had everything, and now she had nothing.
Nothing but this man and his violent, sadistic whims.
This was her future.
“Get up,” he ordered.
She did.
The path of least resistance was the one she was going to take.
She stood still while he bound her hands behind her back.
“Go over to the bed.”
She did.
When she got to it she stopped and waited for her next instruction. She wasn’t going to make a single move without him expressly telling her to.
“Lie down, on your stomach.”
Doing so was difficult with her hands restrained behind, and she kind of flopped onto her stomach, making her back sting. She turned her head to the side so she could breathe and waited to see what kind of fresh hell awaited her next.
He stood beside the bed, and she could feel his eyes roaming her naked body. Even though she couldn’t see him because her face was turned in the opposite direction, Carla knew his gaze lingered on the welts he had put on her skin. He liked that, he liked inflicting pain, liked knowing that she was hurting, and liked knowing that those marks would leave scars that would forever mar her flesh and soul.
Carla waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He knew that the longer he prolonged this, the more the anticipation of what horrid thing he was going to do would cause her anxiety. And it did. Her whole body was tense, she held herself stiffly like she could almost will herself to turn into a stone that he couldn’t torment.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Carla,” he said, running his hand from her shoulder down her back, making sure that he ran his fingers over her open wounds so she winced in pain, then he let his hand come to rest on her bottom. “It’s a shame you weren’t a virgin though, I don’t like that you lied about it.”
She knew that.
She’d told him she was a virgin because she thought it was important to him, but when he found out that she wasn’t he had lost it. He’d raped her so viciously he’d made her bleed and then when he was done, he had beaten her so badly that she was covered in bruises from head to toe, and even three days later had looked more like a black and blue tie-dye shirt than a person.
“But there’s one hole left that can be mine,” he said with a wicked laugh as his fingers moved to prod at that area.
Carla lost it.
He wasn’t touching her there.
He wasn’t.
He had taken enough from her, but she wasn’t going to let him do that.
She flopped about looking like a dying fish as she struggled to get her battered and bruised body to cooperate so she could get off the bed. She was going to try to make a run for it, she wasn’t just lying around and letting him use her as his own personal toy.
Somehow Carla managed to get off the bed, but she didn’t make it far.
The whip rained down a bevy of blows on her back, her legs, her shoulders, she screeched and wept and begged, but the blows kept coming.
When he was done hitting her, he picked her up as though she was nothing more than a small child, reminding her once again how small she was in comparison to him. She was a little under five feet, but her height had never bothered her before, she hadn’t minded the short jokes, and she had secretly enjoyed buying clothes in the kids’ department sometimes because they were so cute and colorful. But now she wished she was big. Huge. Large enough to squash this wicked, evil man.
He tossed her down onto the bed and loomed above her. Obviously not wanting her to try running again, he untied the rope binding her wrists and then secured one end of it to the bedpost and the other around her left wrist. Then he shoved her into a kneeling position so her bare backside was on full display, ready and waiting for him to play his sick, twisted games.
Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, which she had scrunched closed in the vain hope she could block him out. And then because he took pleasure in her pain, he didn’t bother to use lubricant or move slowly, he just shoved himself inside her, splitting her body and her mind and soul into shreds.
* * * * *
5:50 A.M.
He hadn’t slept a wink all night.
Abe had gone to bed after he and Meadow had eaten. Part of him had anticipated that she would bolt as soon as she was clean and fed, but he’d heard her coming up the stairs and closing the bedroom door behind her, then the sound of the shower running. He had tossed and turned, listening to the water run through the pipes for almost an hour before he had come back downstairs and sat in the dark in the living room, wondering how this was all going to play out.
Sure he’d invited Meadow to stay with him, and he wasn’t regretting it, it was the right thing to do, but he hadn’t really thought it through. How long would she stay? Days? Weeks? Months? How was he going to get to the bottom of what led to her being on the street? He had no idea about Meadow’s past so he didn’t really know how she would react to him. Was she going to get overly attached to him? He didn’t even know what her long term plan was.
She was still here, but for how long?
He knew she was embarrassed but whatever had led to her being out on the streets was nothing to be embarrassed about. The cop part of him wanted to keep questioning her, get to the bottom of things so he could fix them and then send her on her way. Maybe this morning he would try again to get a little information out of her while they ate breakfast, he wasn’t the kind of guy who could just let things go, especially after the way she had reacted when he’d woken her up in the alley last night.
Okay, so being woken by a stranger while sleeping on the streets would be upsetting for anyone, but there was something about the fear on her face and the strength with which she had fought him that said she was afraid. She was running from someone, someone w
ho terrified her, and the protective side of him wanted to find that person and punish them so Meadow could move on and feel safe.
Footsteps.
He could hear footsteps on the stairs.
Meadow was coming, but was she staying or making a run for it?
She thought she was being quiet, but he had been in the military, he’d done a tour in a warzone, he noticed every little sound no matter how quiet.
Abe stood and walked to the living room door, watching in the shadows as Meadow tiptoed down the stairs. Obviously she intended to make a getaway while she thought he was still in bed.
Unluckily for her, he didn’t give up on things that easily.
She was a case to him now, one that he wanted to solve, so until he had solved her problems she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said.
Meadow was on the second last step and shrieked in surprise at his sudden presence. She lost her balance and stumbled, her arms wind-milling as she tried to regain it before she fell and landed on her backside.
He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, steadying her before she could fall. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and even though it was mostly dark in the house, he could tell that her cheeks had just gone bright red.
“Leaving me before the sun’s up, sunshine?” he asked.
“I, uh, I was just, I didn’t want to, I just thought, I’m sorry,” she rambled, “I didn’t mean to be rude, thank you so much for your hospitality. I’m sorry,” she said again, and since his hand was still on her arm he felt her brace herself as though she expected that he would hit her for her perceived wrongdoing.
Abe sighed.
This wasn’t what he wanted.
He wanted Meadow to be comfortable for as long as she was his guest here, and he wanted to help her. She was a sweet woman, and she was obviously in trouble, but he also found her attractive. She was older than he had first thought, not a kid, she’d told him she was twenty-four so she was only nine years younger than him, but Abe didn’t think that given whatever had happened to her that she was interested in a fling.
And he only did flings.
Besides, she was pregnant, she no doubt wasn’t interested in starting anything—however brief—with another man.
“Come and sit down,” he said, guiding her down the last step and across the hall into the kitchen. “What do you like for breakfast?”
He had switched on the light as they entered the room and he saw that she looked almost confused by the question, like the idea that someone should be interested enough in her to ask what she wanted was perplexing to her. “Whatever you have is fine,” she said in a small voice.
He was no psychologist, and he wasn’t looking to be this woman’s therapist as she worked through whatever issues she had, and yet at the same time he felt almost compelled to do whatever it took to help her. Keeping his voice firm but gentle, he repeated his question, “What do you like for breakfast.”
“Well,” she said hesitantly, “I like chocolate chip pancakes.”
“Chocolate chip pancakes it is then.” While he collected ingredients from the fridge and the cupboard, Meadow stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, right where he had left her when he’d released his hold on her arm. He was starting to see a pattern here. The fear, the lack of self-confidence, the loss of self, she had been abused, either by a boyfriend or husband, or by a parent or other male role model, or possibly both. “Meadow,” he finally said when he couldn’t take her staring anymore, “I told you last night, you’re safe here. Whatever—whoever—you’re running from you don’t have to worry about here. I get that you’ve been hurt, but you decided to do something about it, you ran, now you can start rebuilding your life. You can stay here for as long as you like, and if you’re interested, I spoke with someone in town, and I found you a job.”
“A job?” she echoed, her eyes growing wide.
“As a cook. There’s a huge hotel just south of town, and they have a restaurant. I’m friends with the owner, her name is Maggie, and I texted her after I brought you here last night. I thought that having a job might help you.”
“You did that for me?” Those big wide eyes now grew watery with tears making them sparkly like the ocean.
He didn’t want Meadow’s gratitude, he just wanted to help her get on her feet, find who hurt her, and throw them in prison so she and her baby would be free. Brushing aside her thanks, he turned to the stove and began pouring out pancake batter. “She said that you should be there to help with the breakfast rush. I thought I’d drop you off on my way to work, around seven.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“I don’t need the money but if it will make you feel better once you get your first paycheck, you can pay rent or something.”
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “I want to do that. But are you sure you still … I mean last night you felt sorry for me because …” she looked down at her swollen belly. “If you’ve changed your mind I understand,” she finished in a small voice.
Abe turned off the stove then walked over to Meadow. “Come and sit,” he said, taking a seat at the table. “Look, Meadow, I offered to let you stay here, and I’m not going to change my mind on that. You can stay here for as long as you need until you get back on your feet. And I’m the sheriff, if you want to tell me what happened I can help you with that too. But don’t make me out to be some sort of white knight hero, that’s not who I am. Helping you is just the right thing to do.” He didn’t mean to sound so blunt, but he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. There was nothing heroic about this decision.
“Okay,” she agreed again, nodding enthusiastically, but he could tell from the expression on her face that she hadn’t really heard a word he’d said. She was looking at him with adoration, she saw him as her savior now, and he wasn’t sure how to change that.
Send her off to live with someone else?
Kiss her like he wanted to every time he looked at her plump pink lips and then break her heart?
Tell her the truth about him so she would realize he was no hero?
Abe had no idea what the best way to handle this situation he had created was, but he was sure that bringing Meadow into his home was a mistake he might not be able to keep his hands off.
* * * * *
6:45 A.M.
“This is it?” Meadow asked as Abe parked the car in front of a huge stone building. Beautiful gardens surrounded it, and with the fairy lights strung up everywhere it looked magical. She could imagine that it would look like a winter wonderland when the whole landscape was covered with snow.
“It is,” Abe replied.
“It’s beautiful,” she gushed. The whole town of River’s End was just preciously adorable. Since it was light out—thin, watery dawn light but light nonetheless—she had been able to see the main street as they drove down it. There was an antique store, a jewelry store, an art studio, bookstore, ice cream parlor, clothing store, general store, toy store, and a store that looked like it sold outdoorsy things. All the stores were so cute with pretty hand-carved doors and signs hanging over them, awnings in different colors, and she was sure in the spring and summer there would be baskets of flowers everywhere.
The town was darling, and although when she had snuck down the stairs at Abe’s house this morning she had intended to leave, now she was wondering whether she should stay here. Sooner or later she had always been going to have to stop running, maybe this was the right place to put down roots. River’s End was pretty, and if Abe and Penny the waitress were anything to go by then the people here were lovely and kind, and if she had to live someplace, then she wasn’t sure she could find a better place than right here.
And this place was small.
No one would ever think to look for her here.
Which meant she might just be safe.
It seemed like it was too much to hope for and yet she was hoping that she would be safe here.
She was having a baby, and ev
en though she wasn’t sure that she was going to keep it, she already loved it. If she decided to give it up it would be because it was what was best for her child, not because she didn’t want it.
It was a part of her, but it was also a part of him, and there was no way he would give it up. So she would stay here, live with Abe, work here at this beautiful hotel, and try to build a new life. But if she thought he had managed to track her down then she would be out of here quicker than she could blink.
“Meadow.”
She started, and her head snapped toward the voice to find that while she had been lost in thought, Abe had gotten out of the car, walked around it, opened her door for her, and was waiting for her to undo her seatbelt and get out. “Oh, sorry,” she stammered, her fingers fumbling with the buckle as she tried to exit the car as quickly as possible. Abe had been so good to her, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, and his hazel eyes crinkled in annoyance.
Annoyance.
She hated being the cause of anyone’s frustration.
It had been drilled into her that she must be perfect in every situation. She should know what people needed before they had to verbalize it and give it to them. She should be well dressed, hair and makeup done, standing quietly ready to serve, and that wasn’t what she was doing right now.
She was failing.
“Meadow,” Abe said again, grabbing her arm as she tried to hurry past him so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks. “There’s no need to be sorry about anything. You have a lot on your mind, I get that, it’s okay to be distracted and worrying about what you and your baby’s future looks like. You don’t need to keep apologizing to me about everything.”
“Okay,” she agreed in a small voice. If it was what he wanted then she would try to do it.
Anything to make him happy.
He had done so much for her. Things that he didn’t have to do. He hadn’t had to buy her food at the diner, he hadn’t had to invite her into his home so she wouldn’t be sleeping on the street, and he didn’t have to find her a job so that she could support herself and her baby. And yet he had.
