CHAPTER 18

 

For the next two days, Jed allows me my space and even sleeps on the couch. I hear Hallie walk up and down the stairs a few times to use the bathroom. Relieved that he doesn’t force her to soil the bed anymore without expecting payment from me, I stay mostly hidden under the covers, only venturing outside the room for my own potty breaks or to quickly choke down some leftover food in the kitchen when Jed isn’t around.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, I am awoken by a loud thump, followed by some colorful cursing. I halfway expect Jed to call me for help, but the commotion dies down after a few minutes. I lie silently in the bed, still a bit foggy from my sleep while soaking up the noises in the house. A harsh wind howls outside and rattles angrily at the shutters every so often.

At some point, the aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon conquers my senses. My stomach growls loudly at the prospect of a big breakfast. The scent of fresh toast kindles my imagination. I can already taste melted butter on my lips.

There is a soft knock on the door. “Can I come in, honeybun?”

I admire his restraint and civility, although I am sure that the next explosion is probably seething under the surface. Someone with his track record doesn’t just turn nice overnight. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

He pokes his head around the door. “I fixed some breakfast and I’m going to get Hallie. Since it’s Christmas Eve, I thought we could spend some time together.”

I’ve missed Luke and my mom more than usual over these past few days and crave for some company. “That would be nice.”

His face lights up. “Hurry up or the food will get cold.”

As soon as the door closes, I slide out of the bed. My clothes are dirty by now and I rummage through the drawers until I find an old football jersey and some sweats I can tighten in the waist. The floor is freezing. I curl my toes, choosing a thick pair of wool socks from Jed’s underwear drawer. My hand runs over his boxers before I grab a pair. The thought that he may have worn them before raping me is disturbing, but the need to have clean panties prevails in the end.

Hallie already sits on a barstool at the kitchen counter, her hair damp and pulled up in a messy bun. She smells like the almond cream shower gel and I’m glad that Jed must have allowed her to take another bath. Some of the bruises have faded. Her face almost appears relaxed when she smiles at me.

“Morning, Kelsey.”

I briefly squeeze her arm as I climb onto the stool next to her. “All good?”

“Yeah. How about you?” Her eyes stay on the scabbed cuts on my forearm. Some accountability partner I am.

“I’m fine,” I reassure her, though I’m still fighting my inner unrest. This all seems too perfect. It’s just a matter of time before Jed rears his ugly head.

He has gone all out with the selection of breakfast food. Besides the bacon and toast, there are eggs and even chocolate chip pancakes. As soon as a plate is empty, second helpings are piled up. I stuff myself until I’m ready to burst. The food is washed down with orange juice.

“I got us a Christmas tree,” Jed remarks while sipping his coffee. His eyes dash constantly back and forth between Hallie and me. “I thought you girls could decorate it after breakfast.”

I can’t shake the feeling that this is his idea of a harmonious holiday, and since he seems to be in an exceptionally good mood, I allow the question to run over my lips that has been burning on my mind since I got to the cabin. “Will Napoleon be joining us today?”

He considers me with narrow eyes. “Why are you asking, honeybun? Do you miss him?”

A slight hint of jealousy is in his voice, which surprises me. “No, of course not.”

He takes another mouthful of coffee before responding. “Napoleon has other commitments. He’ll be here after the holidays.”

Once he is back in the picture, it will be harder to escape. “Actually, I’m glad.”

That gets a chuckle out of him. “Admit I’m a much better lover than he is.”

Rape is rape no matter how you twist and turn it, but I play to his ego. “You know you’re best.”

The longing glow in his eyes is back as his fingers graze my hand. He must seriously think that there is hope for us. The thought is so ridiculous, it’s almost scary.

The tree has been erected in a corner of the living room and must be at least eight feet tall. Boxes with ornaments and lights are piled up next to it, with a small ladder leaning against the wall.

We get busy. Jed helps with the lights before stretching out on the sofa.

“I point, you hang,” he instructs, his eyes focused on my crotch.

I realize he wants me up on the ladder to get a good eyeful of my curves. There’s really not much I can do. I feel his gaze upon me the entire time, causing my nerve ends to constantly twitch in anticipation of his next move. Hallie hands me the ornaments, which I hang on the various branches according to Jed’s instructions. A few times, I pinch my fingers on sharp edges, a welcome distraction.

When we are finally done after adding the star to the top, the tree looks pretty decent.

Jed suggests a tea break. “And afterwards, we can play Monopoly.” His eyes twinkle with excitement.

Hallie and I get comfortable on the couch while he rummages in the kitchen.

“Why is he doing this?” she whispers.

“I think he’s lonely, and in his mind, we’re like his family.”

She grimaces. “That’s absolutely crazy.”

“Yeah, but still better than being locked up and hurt.”

We fall quiet when he joins us with a wide grin, placing a tea set on the table. “Here we go, girls.”

I notice he stays away from alcohol, probably remembering the last time. In a drunken stupor, he passed out next to me on the bed, which ultimately led to my escape. He had staggered into my prison that night, babbling incomprehensible words before falling next to me on the mattress. It didn’t take much to convince him to loosen my restraints so I could give him a massage. After rubbing his shoulders for a few minutes, he fell into a comatose-like sleep.

In my haste, I forgot to lock the door behind me, something that would ultimately prove fatal in getting him convicted. If I had only confined him that night, the blunder with the tape recording would have probably never happened. I still partially blame myself that he got off.

Over the next hours, we play board games: first Monopoly, then Trivial Pursuit. As dusk settles, he turns on the Christmas tree and lights a few candles.

“Let’s watch a movie,” he announces. “I’ll make pizza.”

He got an assortment of Christmas flicks from the video store and we start with The Santa Clause. While he is busy in the kitchen, I signal Hallie to keep an eye out for him.

“I’ll check out the locks,” I whisper before tiptoeing to the front door. My heart plummets into my stomach—two deadbolts and a separate lock. Without the keys, there is no way out. Wiping my sweaty palms on my sweats, I turn toward the window. Just like the one in the bedroom, it has been nailed shut. The only option is the small hatch in Hallie’s bedroom, but that could still be locked.

“Kelsey.”

Hallie’s hissed word makes me jump. In panic, I spin around, but it’s too late. Jed appears next to the couch, squinting at me. “What you doin’, honeybun?”

My heart pounds in my throat as I watch him, my mouth dry as cotton wool. Heat burns my face. I must look like a ripe tomato.

His brows rise in challenge as he waits for an answer.

Finally, my eyes fall onto the fire pit. “I was hoping to start a fire. It’s so cozy and I’m a bit chilly.” I bend down to pick up a couple of logs that are stacked between the door and the window, carrying them over.

He doesn’t miss a beat, tension in his face. “Hey, let me get that. That’s guy’s work.”

If I wasn’t still so shaken up, I would have rolled my eyes at his sexist remark. Any child can start a fire if someone shows them how to stack the logs correctly. As I get out of his way, he catches my wrist and pulls me into his arms.

“I know what you were doin’, honeybun.” He nuzzles my neck. “Don’t let me catch you again, or I’d be forced to end this little party. It’d be such a shame for Hallie, having to spend Christmas all by herself.”

I am frozen in his arms, trying to hide the shivers running through me. “I’m sorry, Jed.”

He squeezes my butt. “I’ll forgive you.” His lips graze my chin. “After all, it’s Christmas. Now be a good girl and sit down.”

Like a trained puppy, I follow his instructions. Hallie’s eyes are wide when she mouths an apology. It’s not her fault. The house is too small to get away with deceit and I shouldn’t have tried to check out an escape route that openly. Now Jed is not only suspicious, but will lash out for sure if I step a toe out of line again.

He starts the movie as soon as the fire is blazing, disappearing into the kitchen again to check on the pizza. This time I don’t move, sitting motionless on the couch next to Hallie, who is wrapped tightly in a blanket. The longing for my mom breaks my heart in two—I have never missed her more. Christmas Eve has always been our special night. There’s not one unhappy memory I can recall.

It has been difficult over the last three years, but that was mostly my own fault. Instead of sulking, I should’ve been thankful for the family I have and not fought them every chance I got. They were not the enemy and didn’t deserve my foul mood. In the end, all they ever tried was to help me.

When I look at Hallie, she’s crying. I know she feels the same. After losing her parents, this must be an even bigger nightmare for her. I wonder if her sister has figured out yet that she was kidnapped. If we are lucky, she will call Hallie’s friend to wish her a Merry Christmas and the whole abduction will be discovered.

She quickly wipes her tears away when Jed reappears with two large plates stacked with different pizza slices.

His head motions her to move to the chair. “Scoot over. I wanna sit next to my girl.”

After glancing at me and receiving a small nod, she obliges.

Jed gets comfortable on the couch, his arm landing on my shoulder. “Dig in, honeybun. Let’s have a nice dinner.”

I nibble on the pizza and manage to choke down two slices before my stomach gets queasy. Sitting next to Jed, who has positioned me in a way to force my body to lean against him, makes every single one of my muscles clench. His fingers caress my shoulder and my neck, playing with my hair every so often. He’s totally engrossed in the movie, laughing at every silly joke. I don’t find it at all amusing; I’m ready to barf and barely able to hold back my tears.

The ordeal continues with Christmas with The Kranks. I try to focus on the movie but keep thinking about my mom and Luke. What are they doing right now? Even if they believed my story that I needed a break, they are likely just going through the motions while worrying sick about me.

Moving on, my mind drifts to Finn. He is probably spending the holidays with his uncle or Tyrone and has forgotten all about me. That thought brings fresh tears to my eyes.

Jed strokes my cheek. “You okay, honeybun?”

I nod, unable to speak. One word and the tears would be rolling. He cuddles me closer against him. The tightness in my stomach triples. I’m sure he wants to have sex at the end of the night.

As soon as the movie is over, he announces that it is time for bed. It couldn’t be past ten, but I still feel exhausted, the tension and pressure slowly eating away at my very substance. Jed ushers Hallie upstairs while I venture into the kitchen. All the drawers are locked and I start the kettle.

“Want more tea?”

His question startles me. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure.” He unlocks one of the cabinets. “Chamomile or something. It might help you sleep.”

I hate chamomile tea. My mom used to force it down my throat when I was little and had a stomachache. “Do you have mint?”

“Yep.” He passes me a tea bag and a cup.

I add some sugar. “What about you?”

“I have some man tea.” He laughs, filling up a small glass to the rim with whiskey. “One should be fine, don’t you think?”

As far as I am concerned, he could have the full bottle. Even if I don’t make it out of the house, his passed-out body wouldn’t want to force sex on me.

I sip my tea in silence, too well aware that he is staring at me the whole time.

“You miss your family, don’t you?”

A few treacherous tears trickle down my cheek. “That’s a stupid question. Of course.”

“Me, too.” Sadness burns in his eyes. “Since my parents died, I’ve spent every single Christmas alone.”

Under different circumstances, I might have felt sorry for him, but now, it just makes me angry.

“They died a little over four years ago,” he says. “I was only seventeen. Social Services wanted my sister to take me, but she refused. I ended up being emancipated to avoid going into the system. Fortunately, my parents left me enough money to take care of myself.”

I refuse to look at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel bad?”

His fingers stroke the back of my hand. “It wasn’t my idea to take you before the holidays. I wanted you to spend Christmas at home, but Napoleon insisted. He said it would tame you.”

My head snaps up. “Why do you allow him to call the shots?”

His face twists in a pained expression. “You don’t understand. Every time I try to defy him, he wins. There’s just no stopping him.”

I narrow my eyes. “Who is he, Jed?”

He shakes his head rapidly. “I can’t tell you. He’ll kill you if you ever find out his true identity.” His fingers wrap tightly around mine. “Please, honeybun, whatever you do, don’t test him. He’s really violent. I saw him once almost beat a man to death—he has no conscience.” His eyes pierce into mine. “Please, honeybun, you have to promise me to do whatever he wants.”

My scalp prickles. “He’s coming for me, isn’t he?”

“Yes, after Christmas.”

My hand clutches over my mouth as a small whimper escapes my throat.

He allows me to cry in silence, rubbing my back the entire time. “Shh, it’ll be okay,” he mumbles over and over.

I don’t believe him; my nightmare is never going to end.

When the tears finally dry up, I’m so tired that I stumble as I slide off the barstool. He catches me just before I fall.

“Please, Jed.” My voice is hoarse from all he crying. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

“That’s alright, but I’m scared you’re gonna hurt yourself again, so I’ll sleep in the bed with you.”

When my lips twist in agony, he quickly adds, “In my clothes. It’s really just for your own protection.”

It’s the first time that I believe he is genuinely concerned about me. Though he keeps his word, I can’t fall asleep as I lay there in bed, scooped up in his arms. The memory of Napoleon’s hands on my skin is too vivid to get him out of my mind. In not even forty-eight hours, my time will be up.