by Cala Riley
“You can drink anything you want. I have orange juice, soda, and milk. I can get you anything else you might want.”
“Water is fine,” she replies meekly.
I miss the feisty woman from this morning, but I’m also happy that she seems to have given up thoughts of escaping.
“What are you in the mood to eat? We are going to have to order in, but there are tons of great places around here.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Come on, give me some input. What kinds of food do you like?”
She frowns. “I like food. It doesn’t matter what it is. I’ve never had options before. I just eat whatever I find when I find it. I try to save any bigger portions so I can ration it out.”
I mentally berate myself. I’ve been treating her like one of my sisters, expecting her to have an idea of what she might want.
She’s not them. She has no wants or desires. All her focus is on is making it to the next day. I am such an idiot.
I ask her the question that has been plaguing me all day. “Why didn’t you eat more today? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s not that I actively tried not to eat. I’m so used to not eating that when I started reading, I just kinda forgot the rest of the world. I go to the library a lot, so it was no different from being there for me. The only thing I can get there is water from the fountain.”
“That must have been hard.”
She shrugs. “It wasn’t ideal, but after being treated so badly in foster homes, it seemed like the better option. When I found out I could go to the library for hours and read without any issues, I started doing that. As long as I don’t smell too bad, they will let me stay there all day. I do that a lot in the winters to keep warm.”
I want to punch myself now. Not only have I been treating her like every other woman I know, but now I’m asking her questions that are intrusive.
I’ve got to distance myself from this girl.
“I know I’m not your favorite person right now because of forcing you here against your will, but can you do me a favor while you’re here?” I ask her.
“Depends on what it is.”
“I know I owe you a punishment and I will come up with a fair one, but it won’t be starvation. I want you to eat and to take care of yourself. If you want a shower, take one. If you want to eat, then eat. Can you do that?”
She looks down at her hands. “Why would you care?”
“I have sisters and I would want someone to make sure they had food if they had the chance. I can’t let you off scot-free, but I can make sure you’re fed in the interim.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Okay,” I reply before changing the subject. “Have you ever had chicken ala vodka? Lou’s makes the best in Queens. I can order it and pick it up.”
“Nope. Order me whatever you think I’ll like,” she says.
I dial the number, ordering the food before texting Nico, telling him to expect a delivery.
“What did you do today?” I ask, settling into the seat next to her.
“I read a book about human psyche. It’s interesting how the mind works, don’t you think?”
“It is. Have you always loved to read?”
She shrugs. “Not really. When I was younger, I hated it.”
“Why?”
“Numbers and letters get mixed up in my head. I guess it’s called dyslexia, but no one told me that back then. Eventually, I taught myself to read around it. Then, I found out the library let you stay inside as long as you read, I kept doing it. Now, it’s much easier. I really only struggle when it’s a word I’ve never seen before.”
“Don’t they have medication for that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been formally diagnosed. Now it doesn’t matter. Why take medication when I survive just fine without it?”
“Good point. What other things do you like to learn about?”
I smile as she dives into all the subjects and facts she’s learned from the library. I decide then, I’ll start bringing new books home for her. I have a small collection, but nothing like she’s used to.
Once dinner arrives, I keep her talking. I want to learn everything I can about her. It’s not until she’s finished and the moon is high in the sky that I realize the time.
“It’s late. You probably want to sleep,” I tell her.
She frowns a little. “I guess I should, huh?”
I stand and following her upstairs. Once in the room, I grab sleep clothes.
“Have a good night,” I tell her.
“You’re not sleeping in here tonight?” she asks.
“Do I need to? Are you going to try to escape?”
She shakes her head no.
“Then I think you have earned some privacy. I’ll still keep my things in here, but I’ll sleep in the spare room.”
“Shouldn’t I sleep there so you can have your bed?”
“No. I want you in here. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
I walk out, resisting the urge to barge back in there and kiss her. The woman is smart and gorgeous.
I’m in trouble.
It’s been a week. One entire week since Matteo blew into my life like a whirlwind.
The first night was rough, but after I decided to play along for now, things have been smooth sailing. I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to escape.
There have been a couple of times I had a chance, but something always stopped me.
You should get some more food first.
You should take a jacket and you don’t have time for that.
You need to find shoes.
With each day that goes by, I feel myself grow more and more complacent. I’m making excuses why I shouldn’t leave yet.
Is this what Stockholm Syndrome is like?
That’s why I decided today is the day. I’ve already planned it out in my head.
We have fallen into a routine. Since the first night, he hasn’t slept in the same bed as me. I offered to sleep in the spare room, but he refused. After exploring a bit, I realized that the side of the house is more hidden. I guess he thought I would try to leave again.
Every morning, he comes in to get a set of clothes before taking a shower. Then I go downstairs with him and have breakfast. He likes to see me eat. Then he leaves for the day, promising to be back by dinner.
Not one night this week has he been back before seven in the evening.
That means he leaves me with Nico all day.
I like Nico. He’s a sweet guy who takes his job seriously. He’s the wild card in my plan. I need to distract him for a while for this to work.
So this morning, when he left, I went back to the room under the guise I was going to take a nap. Nico didn’t question me.
Instead, I found a bag in Matteo’s closet and packed it with some clothes from his closet and drawers. I included the hair products that the hair lady gave me. I figured he wouldn’t use it anyway.
Then I waited. After two hours, I went to the kitchen and took a couple of bags of snacks to the living room.
Each time Nico would check the perimeter, I would sneak a bag to the room. After a couple of hours, I had quite a horde of food.
That’s when I made my first move.
“Hey, Nico. How hard would it be to get these items?” I turn the cookbook so he can see.
He reads through the list before looking up at me.
“Where did you find a cookbook?” he asks.
“Bottom drawer in the kitchen.” I shrug.
He laughs. “Izzy must have put it there. That rascal.”
For a moment, I forget the plan. Instead, a red hot streak of jealousy runs through me. I shake it off. I can’t feel that way for my captor. I’m about to leave him, for Christ’s sake.
“Someone put it there. It doesn’t look used.”
He laughs. “I doubt it is. Boss doesn’t use cookbooks. He cooks what his Mom and N
ona taught him. Anyway, I can get these items here in two hours. You going to cook?”
“I was thinking it would be nice to make Matteo dinner,” I lie.
“That’s a good idea. He’d like that. I’ll text the list to my guy and get it here for you.”
“Oh,” I mumble. “Thanks.”
He leaves the room after taking a photo of the recipe. I lean back and sigh.
Strike one.
I really thought he would offer to go get the items for me. I’m not allowed to leave the house, but he is.
I go over several scenarios, but I can’t figure one out that would get me out of here. I either need to get my shit together or unpack my bag. If he sees it, he will know what I’m planning for sure. Who knows what he would do then.
Once my items arrive, I hide out in the kitchen, reading the recipe over. I wasn’t planning to actually make the chicken alfredo, but I guess I have to now to save face.
I start by gathering all the dishes I’ll need to make the food. Then I measure the ingredients.
It’s going well until I spill some cream on the counter. I curse as I grab the towel to wipe it up.
Then I have an epiphany.
If I don’t have cream, I can’t make this.
I look at the clock and see it’s about five in the afternoon. If I want this to be done by seven, I should start it around six to give myself plenty of time. So if I spilled the milk, he wouldn’t have time to get his goon to run out and get more. He would have to go himself.
It’s risky. He may say no, but then again he may say yes.
I tinker around, occupying myself until it’s closer to six. Then I put plan B in motion.
I pour the cream in the measuring cup out. Then I pull the carton of cream out, untwist the top, then I drop it on the floor, along with the measuring glass. The measuring glass shatters. I fall to the floor and desperately try to clean it up in a pretend panic.
Nico rushes in with his gun pulled, looking around the kitchen. It takes him a second, but he freezes when he sees me on the floor, the gun pointed in my direction.
He immediately pulls it back and puts it away, but the sudden shock of having a gun pointed at me point blank causes my emotions to go haywire.
Next thing I know, I have tears pouring down my face as he kneels on the floor in front of me.
“Are you okay, Vanessa? Are you hurt? What happened?”
I take a deep breath and move forward with my lie. “I messed it all up. I dropped the cream and broke his glass. I just wanted to do something nice for him. Now I can’t do it because I have no cream and he will be home soon. It’s all ruined.”
“Hey. Don’t cry. It’s okay.”
I let out a sob, fully into the lie now. “It won’t be. I already am being punished for stealing from him. What is he going to do when he finds out I broke something of his?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. He won’t punish you for an accident. Boss can be tough, but he isn’t unfair. He would never punish you for something that you didn’t have malicious intent for. It’ll be okay. Please stop crying.”
“I can’t. I’m upset. Telling a girl to stop crying is like telling her to calm down. I’ll only cry more.”
“What can make it better? How can I help?”
“Unless you can make a magic carton of cream appear, then you can’t. I’m going to clean this up and hide in my room.”
He hesitates a moment before offering a solution. “I could run down to the bodega on the corner. I’m sure they have some kind of cream. I’d be back in five minutes. You’d have to promise me you won’t leave though. I would be trusting you with my life.”
“I promise. I swear.”
“Okay, you clean this up and I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the front door shuts, I spring into action. Leaving the mess on the floor, I run upstairs to the bedroom. I grab my bag, then head to the front door. I curse as I realize it’s locked. with a keypad. Then I try the back door. It’s locked with a keypad as well.
There’s another door in the kitchen I haven’t opened. It doesn’t appear to have a lock on it, so I make my way over. I hesitantly open it.
Inside, I find a set of stairs leading into darkness.
The basement.
He warned me to stay out of the basement. I wonder if there’s a way out.
I can’t hesitate. I flip on the light, but nothing happens. I rush down the stairs, into the darkness anyway. Once at the bottom, I fumble around, looking for a wall. I feel my way around until I find another switch. This time the light turns on.
What I see is horrific. A blood-curdling scream escapes me as I take in the torture room.
That’s where Nico finds me.
Huddled into a corner, eyes wide as I stare at the room.
“Vanessa, what are you doing down here?”
“I…” I trail off.
He eyes my bag then sighs. “The cream wasn’t an accident, was it?”
I shake my head no.
“I don’t want to tell him, but I have to. He would kill me for keeping this from him. He might kill me anyway for leaving you here unattended. You promised me. Why did you do it?”
“Please don’t tell him. Please. I beg you,” I plead.
“I wish I could, but you already broke my trust. You promised me you wouldn’t leave. Do you know what he’s going to do to me?”
“I didn’t leave. I’m still here.”
“You tried to, though. If the front door had opened, you would’ve left. Go upstairs and wait for him. He will be here shortly. I told him you had a surprise for him. I don’t think this is the surprise he’s looking forward to.”
I leave the bag on the floor and stand. I make my way back up the stairs and stop when I see the mess I created. I hurry to clean up the mess before he gets home.
I don’t want to make him any angrier than he already was. Nico comes upstairs while I’m cleaning, but he is as solemn as I am.
I can’t let him pay for my mistake. I have to plead his case. Matteo can kill me if he wants, but Nico was offering me kindness. I took advantage of that.
Once I finish, I head up to the bathroom to clean myself. Then I sit on the bed and wait.
As soon as I come through the door, I know there’s something wrong.
All the lights downstairs are off. Nico comes out from the kitchen with a sullen look on his face.
He bows his head. “I failed you, sir.”
“What happened?”
“She tried to escape.”
My heart races in my chest. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs. She’s okay. She ended up in the basement.”
I shake my head. “Fuck.”
The basement isn’t what it looks like. It’s more of a scare tactic than anything else. I love when the cops raid me and think they have hit the motherload only to find out it’s all props. Not a single splatter of blood down there. The only reason we even go down there is to do laundry if I don’t want to take it to the cleaners.
“Yeah. I accept my punishment, boss.”
“You can’t stop her from trying to escape,” I tell him.
“You’re right, but she tricked me. I left for a few minutes and that’s when she tried. It was my fault. If I had stayed, she would’ve never tried.”
I frown. “Let me talk to her. I want to hear what she did from her. Then we will talk.”
“Yes, boss.”
I make my way up the stairs to the bedroom. I let out a relieved sigh when I see her sitting on the edge of the bed.
I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. I would have been upset if she had left. I’m getting too attached to her. Too used to her being here every night.
Walking into the room, I sit on the edge of the bed next to her, pretending not to notice when she flinches away from me.
“Why were you in the basement, Vanessa?” I ask in a firm voice.
I’ve given her too many liberties. I’ve let her think she had
some freedoms. A chance to leave.
Truth is, the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew there was something different about her. The second I took her, I knew she would never be free again.
Mine.
She is mine.
“I...” she hesitates.
“Don’t lie to me. It will only make this worse for you,” I warn her.
She doesn’t look at me. “I was trying to leave. I don’t want to be here. You can’t keep me here.”
Her sass has diminished since she’s gotten here. She is still a strong woman, but she’s lost some of that bite.
“I can and I will. You see that now, right? That I can do whatever I want, and I will get away with it. That there is nothing you can do to escape me?”
Her hands shake slightly. “If you’re going to kill me, I’d prefer you get it over with. I can’t take this waiting and wondering when it’s going to happen.”
“Is that why you were leaving? You think I plan to kill you?”
“Why else would you want me here? Based on what I saw in the basement, you have no issues with murder.”
I lean in close, reveling in the way her body shakes as I get close. “You’re right. I have no problem with murder. In fact, I have murdered more people than you can imagine. It didn’t cause me one hint of guilt or remorse. Some might even call me cold-blooded. Does that frighten you?”
I hear her swallow hard before she answers, “Yes.”
I back away. “Good. It should. I’ve been nice thus far, but that ends now. You want to disrespect me, then you’ll get a taste for what it’s like to be a prisoner. Get up.”
She startles as I bark the order. “What?”
“You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself. I’ve lost all patience I’ve had with you.”
She stumbles to her feet before following me downstairs. At the kitchen door, she freezes, her eyes drawn to the basement door.
I grab her arm, dragging her to the door and down the stairs. I flick the lights on as soon as we are at the bottom and push her to the table on the side of the room.
Her eyes are wide as she stares up at the prop hanging from the ceiling.
I have to admit, it looks realistic. I paid top dollar for it. Prosthetic skin shaded to look real with strategically placed wounds. If I pressed on them, they would even ooze out.
