The moment he leaves, I’m scrambling. I hear the click of the door as I step into the hallway. The blanket is forgotten, it’s left discarded on the bathroom floor. My steps are measured as I make my way slowly up to the kitchen. The beat of my heart is too loud in my ears. I can’t think straight. All I can think about is freedom. All I can think about is getting away from this madness. The empty space has the realization that I am alone for the first time hitting me fully. With tears in my eyes, I swallow down my panic and try to think about my next move. The drawer comes away quickly in my hands in my haste to search for a weapon. The contents spill across the kitchen floor, the noise has panic and fear rising in me. Falling to my knees, I gather up the drawer’s contents and my hand touches the silver pendant given to me by my father. This time my eyes burn and I can’t stop the onslaught of emotions and tears. Tears stream down my cheeks, the salty liquid finds its way into my mouth and slowly soaks into my soul. I can’t read the inscription on the back of the pendant, with my finger I move it back and forth over my name. Scarlett.
I have always hated the smell of a hospital. It seems to mold itself with his crooked smile. The white gown with small blue dots drained the remaining color from his face. I always tried to mentally prepare myself for what I would find on the other side of the door. I knew one day I would open that door and he would be gone. That fear that held me daily, finally cut the air off from entering my lungs. That day had so much more significance to me because it wasn’t simply about losing my father, it was about losing my only friend, the only person who mattered to me in the world.
I wipe tears from my face using the back of my hand as I frantically try to put everything back in the drawer. Releasing my necklace is painful, my fingers remain tight around the heart, the jagged edges pushing into my flesh. The bite of the pain has me rising and putting the drawer back.
My feet slap against the wooden floor as I enter the gun room. I don’t hesitate as I take a gun from the wall and aim it at the floor, my heart pounds as I pull the trigger. The click of the gun is loud in the space, replacing it back on the wall I take down another gun and repeat the process. Each click has my heart jumping around in my chest. Each click has my disappointment growing, and my hope for release dwindles by the second.
I leave the gun room and race to the bathroom. My hand dips into the tank and I pull out the razor blade and hold it tightly in my fingers. It’s all I have. It is my only weapon. I can use it against him or I can use this against my own mind. I know deep down that no matter what, I won’t survive this. He isn’t going to let me go. I shiver now as the cold from the tiles beneath my bare feet penetrate my flesh. I think maybe the cold is rising quicker through my system because of the fear.
Fear of not knowing what is going to happen to me. I have no idea how long he will be gone and something is telling me I won’t get this opportunity again. I won’t find myself alone. I spend the next while moving from room-to-room searching for something I can use as a weapon. A gym. It feels like Christmas. The heavy equipment would do some serious damage. Walking over, I pick up what I think is called a dumbbell; it’s heavy in my hands and I raise it slowly above my head before lowering it back down.
This will have to work, this will be my only chance of getting out of this place. I’m nervous as I take a final walk around the space. I notice there are no windows and the heavy metal door looks more like something you would see on a bank safe. My stomach twists painfully. I try not to think about how claustrophobic this all is. I have no idea how long he’s been gone, but I know a lot of time has passed. My stomach rumbles and it reminds me of what he had said about wanting me to make him food. Should I? Should I make him food so he won’t suspect anything later on, or is making him food making me look suspicious? My decision is made for me when the large metal door clicks open. I move as quickly as I possibly can back to the bedroom and get under the blanket.
“Kate!”
My breathing becomes labored as his raised voice crashes against my ears, the sound of footsteps has everything inside me hallowing. The moment he steps into the room, his angry dark eyes send more fear shooting through my system. I think of the dumbbell, I think of the razor, I think of every unloaded gun, but nothing seems to calm me as he steps fully into the room. His lips don’t move but his eyes are questioning me. Part of me wants to remind him I’m not allowed to speak.
“What is your name?”
I’m shaking my head in total confusion. I know the answer, but once again his warning about me not speaking, leaves my tongue heavy in my mouth.
“What is your name?”
My fingers tighten around the blanket as I continue to shake my head. He kneels down, ripping the blanket from my clenched hands. I want to beg him not to hurt me, but all I can do is shake my head.
“If you don’t say your name!” The warning has me tightening my eyes. My lips feel so dry as they part and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Kate.” I open my eyes, startled by the sound of my voice. His own eyes seem wider and it’s a brief moment where we are just staring at each other. The room spins and I touch the bedroom floor to try to steady myself.
“Get up!” He’s standing, holding the blanket as I rise naked. His hands grip my arms and my attention snaps to him again.
“What is your name?”
His voice has a calming note to it, but I’m shaking my head. I don’t understand what game we are playing. If I say my real name, will he punish me?
I open my mouth to speak again and his hand clamps across it. “Don’t speak.” My body starts to tremble as he storms from the room. His anger is growing and forming around the space. I can almost see his anger pulsate. I reach up to touch my pendant around my neck, it’s my comfort when times are bad. My fingers touch only my flesh and tears burn my eyes again.
“Fuck!”
His roar has me jumping and I swallow the trepidation that’s making my limbs heavy. I need to act now. His anger is too much. I have no idea what he will do to me when he returns to the room. My feet leave damp footprints on the wooden floor. My hand keeps touching my neck, seeking comfort, as I try to move quietly down the hall. I don’t dare look over my shoulder. I can hear him moving around in the kitchen area. My feet feel slippery under me and I try to keep my balance as black spots dance in front of my eyes.
“What are you doing?”
A scream rips from my throat and I’m running. His pounding footsteps behind me, has my fear tripling as I race into the gym. I dive close to the dumbbells. Without thinking, I pick up the dumbbell. He bends down to get me and I swing, my life depends on me making contact. It’s a horrible feeling as it sails through the air, it’s so close to his face, he moves back and as the dumbbell pulls back down to the ground, my grip slips and it falls from my slick fingers.
There is a moment where I feel the world is suspended into a state of silence and stillness and I want to stay here. The bubble pops and he grabs my arm and drags me to my feet.
I don’t beg with my words but try to plead with my eyes. His eyes are the darkest I have ever seen. Don’t cry, Scarlett, I tell myself as he drags me to the wall. He pushes me against it before releasing me. He walks away from me before returning. I’m waiting for a punch or a slap, but instead his lips slam against mine. I don’t move under him as his erection presses against my abdomen. His lips leave mine and I’m holding my breath as he dips his face into my neck, his breath fans out across my collar bone.
“You keep trying to kill me, Kate.”
He doesn’t sound mad, and when he leans out and grabs my face, I see lust swirl in the depths of his dark eyes. I try to ignore the reaction my body seems to have to him each time he is close. It’s wrong. This is wrong. I hold still as his fingers tighten on my chin.
“Who are you?” His words brush my cheek and I don’t want to think about who I am. Right now, I think I’m just Kate, who’s been taken by this guy, whose name I don’t know.
He releases my chin abruptly and my spine straightens as his fingers graze my pussy.
His fingers work fast and he pushes two inside me. My whole body goes still and I have that odd feeling of wondering if this is really happening. He removes them and pushes them back in. His eyes haven’t left my face.
“You’re wet.” His words are gleeful and the heat to my cheeks is instant. I want to apologize. Something is wrong with me. I shouldn’t enjoy this. I shouldn’t allow this. His fingers plunge back inside me and when a groan falls from my lips, I close my eyes against the ecstasy—and also the shame.
“I want you to look at me.” His deep voice has me returning to those abysses that I’m drowning in. “Just feel it.” His words sound so real. Like he really wants me to just feel, I push my body harder against the wall trying to get away from his prodding fingers. But there is no escaping him. He widens me, adding a third finger. His palm grazes my hard nipples and I groan against the pleasure that bubbles up inside me. His mouth covers mine and I groan into his lips as he moves his fingers faster, his thumb brushes my clit as his other hand works on my nipple. He rolls it with his thumb and forefinger. My nerves all fire at once and as he moves faster, I feel the climax—it’s so close. His lips press harder against mine and I take a taste, responding to his kiss. It’s all too much, not just for me, but it seems to allow something to release in him. His tongue fills my mouth. His hand leaves my nipple as he grips my face, his fingers don’t stop plunging inside me and I rise on the tips of my toes and break the kiss as I ride high on the orgasm that tears through me. He holds my face and watches me cum all over his fingers. I close my eyes, cutting him off from something so private. The moment I cum, shame follows on its heels far too quickly.
I’m still breathing heavy and don’t look at him as he removes his fingers from me.
“What’s your name?” His question now is gentler and I look at him.
Some twisted part of me wants to tell him but I hold back the only thing I can. “My name is Kate.”