Chapter Fifteen

Thomas

"UGH, THAT CREEPY dude with the potbelly walked by," Lisa complains as she sits down with her gigantic mug. "I should've poked his eyes out after he looked at my stomach and said what a beautiful daughter I'd have one day."

"I'll kill him for you if you point him out," Hank offers. "Your hands can stay clean. No need to confess any sins."

I smirk. I remember the guy Lisa is talking about; he had an aura about him that screamed malice. I wouldn't leave a plush doll around him, let alone a human being.

"Well, let's hope he walks by again." Lisa smiles. "Now, Thomas asked us here to talk about his fiancée." She nods at me to begin.

"There is something in her past she refuses to speak of, and it's driving me mad," I admit to Lisa and Hank. I needed a breather after the carnage I caused in the basement. The longer I stayed home, I'd recall the smell and viscous feel of her sweet blood, and …

Yeah. I refuse to claim her until she is ready for the ceremony, and she is not. So I asked Lisa if she wanted to spend some time on the outside. So far, Father Oliver hasn't limited any of us from going out into the world as we please even when not on a rescue mission. We just need to ask permission.

"Um … my dude…" Hank hands me a napkin and points to the side of my hand.

Glancing at my pinky, it still has a bit of blood on it. For all it's worth, someone could think it was paint or food, but assassins and hitmen know blood when we see it.

"Thanks." I take it and wipe the blood away, pocketing the tissue to dispose of properly. Can't risk it being found somehow, potentially. I did not survive this long without using my brain.

"So, what do you think she is hiding? Something like a child?" Lisa asks.

I shake my head. "No. She told me…" I pause to recall the words. "She said pain was an old friend, and nothing I did would break her. But were I to be gentle, she has never known softness."

"You think she wants to trick you into going easy on her?" Hank wonders.

I shake my head. "I know fear when I see it. Apprehension. The silent question of ‘what next?' She gets scared when I clean her wounds."

"Then she was abused," Lisa says simply, sipping her latte. We aren't allowed stimulants at the compound; nothing stronger than black tea. She and I get our weekly caffeine fix at this café.

"Her parents passed when she was young. And I cannot find any records of her from the time she was pulled out of private education after her mother passed when she was fifteen," I continue. "Father Oliver and I assumed she was on her own until I rescued her, however…"

"You think she was with someone before you spotted her on that street corner eleven months ago," Lisa finishes for me.

I drain the dregs of my coffee and look up at the sky. "I believe she would stay if given a chance to be a part of the community. I believe she naturally requires care, perhaps not such a heavy hand but guidance. But I cannot fathom claiming her, even if she were to agree, without knowing the truth."

Hank taps me on the head, hard.

"Hey!"

"Tommy, you are hands down one of the most intelligent people I've ever known," he says, "but for fuck's sake, you know nothing about women."

I narrow my eyes at him. "There's a list of former partners who would disagree with you on that."

"He doesn't mean sex, you absolute nitwit," Lisa chides. Of course she'd agree with her friend and not her baby brother. "If a man abused her, she isn't going to tell another man. And she probably won't tell while she's being chained to a bed, even if it is warranted." She lowers her voice as she says that last sentence.

"What do you suggest, O Almighty Genius?" I ask.

She smiles. "Girl's day!"

Diana

I look at Thomas, Lisa, and Catherine as they stand before me. My back itches as the lashes heal and rub against the rough nightgown; I barely slept and had nightmares all night when I did. And to top it off, I'm still mildly horny. So I am certain what I just heard Catherine say has to have been a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and pain.

"What?"

Thomas gives me that indulgent smile, as if I am a cute cat or something. "You have been with me for one month. One month is the time when habits begin to form, when your brain chemistry changes. While the women believe it is a cause for celebration, I believe it is another test on you." He walks over to me and lifts my left hand up, snapping a metal bracelet on it, too snug for me to slip off. He locks it with his fingerprint.

What the Hell?

"The ladies wish to take you shopping and for coffee and pastries," he explains. "Yes, outside. Yes, I realize you have no clothes; Lisa is going to measure you and bring you something.

"However, everything is a test of both your loyalty and your … tolerance for pain." His hold on me is gentle, as is his tone of voice. His words, however, are mildly terrifying. I've never been loyal to anyone or anything. "This bracelet, the control for which I will give to Catherine, as Lisa would use it a bit too indiscriminately…"

The woman smiles, as if proud of her sadism.

"It will send a selected amount of voltages up your arm if it seems like you will try to escape," Thomas continues. "And the range is long, even if you happen to be a faster runner than either of the ladies. A certain number of shocks like that will stop your heart." He looks me in the eye, and I am too afraid to look away. He's never threatened to kill me before. "Do you understand the consequences?"

I nod. If I want my freedom, I have to be willing to die for it.

"You … you'll let me out even if I choose death over being with you for the rest of my life?"

He nods. "You have to know you wouldn't have survived much longer anyway, little dove. Not the way you were going."

He was right. Hell, there was a good chance a John would've killed me by now already. Especially in that neighborhood. And I can't forget nearly dying on the street after my former "guardian" dumped my body. All this? Ever since I escaped Mike? Borrowed time.

"So, terms are: we go out, we have fun, we come home. You don't run away," Catherine says brightly. "What do you say?"

I look back at Thomas, who is still holding my hand. The gentle touch gives me the creeps. "I talk back at every turn. Why do you think you can trust me?"

"Because I believe, deep down, you trust me , and you know you belong here. And besides, I only just found you. I have to pray I won't lose you yet." He steps away and nods at the women. "Sister, Mother. Have a good day."

Lisa reaches into her pocket and pulls out a tape measure. "I think we are almost the same size. Eight?" She moves towards me. "Stand up."

My eyes widen, and she takes it wrong.

"Hey, I can't strangle you with this. Too much give in the elastic."

"No … I can't be a size eight, are you kidding? He'll…"

The women glance at each other.

"Thomas was insistent you gain some weight. You were … unhealthy," Catherine explains. "I don't think an eight or a six or even a fourteen would bother him as long as you didn't appear as though you were suffering from famine."

I nod, trying to remember I am not under Mike's thumb. I don't need to look small and young and fragile here. These women certainly don't, though Catherine is a tiny woman. Her presence, though, is vibrant and not small in the least.

" Please stand up so I can be sure and bring you some clothes," Lisa says with a huff.

I nod and stand, letting her measure my waist and inseam.

"You're taller than me, but yeah. An eight. Shoe size?"

"Seven and a half."

She grins. "What colors do you like?"

"I don't have to wear white or pale colors?"

Catherine gives an indulgent smile. "That is a choice, especially when we are at worship or out on rescue missions. Not a rule for all the time."

"I … like black," I admit. "And red."

Lisa returns with an armful of clothes and says, "There's a sports bra; we're definitely not the same size to give you a regular one." She dumps the clothes on the bed next to me and adds, "I'm going to unlock the anklet. The bracelet is on. Consider your movements wisely."

The weight falls off my ankle for the first time in a month, and it hits me: I'm actually stronger than I was when I got here. Healthier. Catherine doesn't look like someone who runs a lot, and I don't think Lisa would want her fake eyelashes to fall off from the exertion.

Thomas is somewhere upstairs, I assume, but probably not guarding the door.

I could run.

I could also die.

Catherine seems like a nice little church lady, but she and her husband condoned Thomas drugging, kidnapping, and torturing me for a month. So I have no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to use the electroshocks on me.

How many times in my life have I wanted to die? Too many to count. Always too much of a pussy to kill myself. So I endured.

I don't have to endure anymore. Not the night terrors, the torture, the solitude. One step out of line and I can hopefully get her to use the shocks enough to stop my heart.

"I only just found you. I have to pray I won't lose you yet."

I shake my head and stand up, wanting to get Thomas' words out of my brain.

I won't tempt fate … yet. Not because of his words; no. Of course not. Because I could have a better opportunity in the future. That's all.

That's all, right?

Lisa brought me the first real clothes I'll ever have worn since I was fifteen. Even during my ten months alone, I mostly wore what I had to in the streets and pajamas at home.

Straight-leg black jeans, black Converse, and a flowy red blouse. Fabric softener, the expensive kind, wafts from them. Luxuries I never dreamed I'd hold. The brands are all designer.

I get dressed and am unsure what to do now when the door opens. Catherine pokes her head in.

"Oh, you look proper lovely!" she gushes. "Are you ready?"

I nod, wondering if this is some sort of hallucination. Thomas used drugs on me once, who's to say he wouldn't do it again?

"After you," Lisa says, gesturing for me to follow Catherine up a sturdy but dark flight of stairs.

I do so, entering a small vestibule with three corridors and one closed door; I assume a broom closet or something. There's white and gray tile, and darker gray paint on the walls with white wainscotting.

Catherine leads me down the shortest corridor, which leads to a living room done in more tasteful gray tones. There is a splash of color in the form of a framed yellow soccer jersey and another splash of pink from flowers in a vase on top of a mantle. Thomas is reading a book on a comfortable-looking light gray couch, and a striped gray tabby sits at his side.

He has a cat?

Lisa goes and hands him the key to my anklet, which he puts around his neck once more before looking at me.

I flinch, knowing whenever Mike scrutinized me, it usually led to some fault and a beating.

He nods. "Enjoy yourselves, ladies. Lisa, you promised to bring pastries back to me. Don't forget." He looks at me again and offers a soft smile before going back to his book.

This is the same man who whipped my skin bloody two days ago? Along with all the other atrocities?

"Come on," Lisa says impatiently. She hands me a pair of sunglasses. "It's been a while, you'll need these."

Designer. My whole outfit cost more than three months of rent at Rick's apartment.

They lead me outside and the warm late spring sun shines on my face for the first time in a month. Catherine stands at my side, I assume to keep me from running before needing to use the electroshocks.

This small, cute house sits on a property near a lake, which has a dock that looks like you can swim off of it. I hear ducks quacking somewhere. There are other houses in the distance, and a small white church with a gigantic white cross.

It's so green. How far out in the suburbs are we?

"It's lovely here, hm?" Catherine says. "When my dear Oliver brought me here, it was just us and two others who wished to build a community." She gestures around. "Look at all God provided."

Did He provide you to Oliver too? I wonder.

"Did…" My throat closes, too afraid to ask.

Catherine turns towards me. "What, dear?"

"Did you and Lisa come here like me?"

Lisa calls, "Not me; my brother and I met Father Oliver and chose to join and surrender our sin voluntarily."

She has a brother?

Catherine looks out over at the small lake. "Oliver saved me from the streets, from drugs. From things the drugs blessedly didn't allow me to remember."

"Come on," Lisa calls once more. "Chitchat while we get out of here for a while."

I get into a different white BMW, not Thomas'. This must be Lisa's, as she's driving. We leave the land — compound? — and as we drive, I see signs of where we are, a small town about an hour or so outside the city. Somewhere I'd never have been able to afford to live before.

"So, my brother didn't want to tell you," Lisa begins, "but if you stay, and Mother doesn't have to use the shocks on you, he will likely begin letting you out of the basement for a bit."

Wait … Thomas is her actual brother?

"You have no real clothes except the nightgowns, so we are gonna go buy you some," she continues, as if she didn't drop a bombshell on me.

"I don't have any money," I say.

Catherine turns to look at me and smiles. "Honey, you're part of the community now, of the church. We all take care of our own. Thomas is making sure you're cared for."

My heart stutters at that, but not in a bad way. Thomas is making sure I am cared for? No one has done that for me. Not since I was twelve.

Lisa parks outside of an outdoor shopping center and we get out of the car. Freedom. All I have to do is find a police officer and—

"Do you think even if I let you out, you'd escape me? The police are in my pocket, you stupid cunt."

If I go to the cops, they'll have to contact next of kin, and Mike is listed as my guardian somewhere, somehow. I may be an adult, but they will still contact him. He can't know I'm alive, or he will finish the job.

"Diana." Lisa's sharp voice shakes me from my reverie. "If this is too much, we can just walk around or something."

I shake my head. "No. It's not that. I'm sorry."

The women exchange glances but don't say anything as we head into a store that sells casual designer clothes.

"You'll need some casual clothes, and a few nicer outfits for church," Catherine tells me. "Church is mandatory twice a week, three times if we have baptisms. Wednesday nights and Sunday morning; Saturday afternoon if we do three days."

I remember going to Saturday evening Mass sometimes with Mom. Dad wasn't Catholic, so he never went with us. That stopped when he died; maybe Mom didn't believe in God anymore.

I wasn't sure I did, either, but someone sent that woman to rescue me after Mike dumped my body in the alley. She didn't find me by accident.

"Can I ask a religious question?" I ask, not realizing I am even going to say that.

"It would be better put to Father Oliver or even to Thomas; he's training under him, you know," Lisa commented.

"But we will do our best to answer," Catherine adds.

"Why would God save a person from a horrible fate just to put them in a worse one, and then a worse one?"

Lisa's shrewd blue eyes see right through me. "Is it really worse, or is it just difficult to face yourself and the sin that seeped into you like a bad smell?"

Don't listen to her, the little voice begs me. You're still with a man who controls you and hurts you!

Yeah but … he also sees the good in me. The potential.

I nod and we drop the conversation, both aloud and the one in my head.

Catherine and Lisa are what seems like professional shoppers. They know fashion, and they know just how to dress me to look classy and cute and not overdone. I never really had a style of my own. I was twelve, then Mike had me, then I had to look a specific way for the streets.

"Oh my goodness, wear that the rest of the day!" Catherine says when I exit the dressing room in Calvin Klein with a denim, button-down t-shirt dress.

Lisa glances at my bare legs. "Okay, gotta ask—"

"Laser hair removal. Permanent," I reply, and that is all I will say. I look at Catherine. "I look … okay?"

"Adorable."

"You need a belt!" Lisa declares, and goes to find me one. So far, it seems like her attitude is just … Lisa. Maybe she doesn't dislike me.

Why does her liking you matter? You're gonna escape at the first opportunity, right?

I don't answer my conscience. I can't.

"I've never spent so much money in one day before," I comment, putting my sunglasses back on as we exit the store. I want to ask how the church has this sort of money, since it seems like no one works. Donations? Is it possible? It seems so small, though. Unless the patrons who don't actually belong to the cult are all filthy rich.

"Please. This is a normal Tuesday for me," Lisa comments. "Do you drink coffee?"

I nod. "We aren't allowed it at the um…" I let the question trail off before I call it a cult.

"Compound," Catherine supplies. "And no, no stimulants. But while I don't drink it, you are allowed while you're out. I know Lisa and Thomas escape here for caffeine often." She smiles at Lisa indulgently.

I give Lisa my order and she promises to bring us pastries as well. So she goes inside the café and Catherine and I sit at an outside table. The fresh air feels alien on my skin after all this time. Closing my eyes, I lean back and breathe deeply.

"God and Thomas really did make an excellent choice with you," Catherine says softly. "I see so much of myself in you. Except … you are much stronger than I ever was."

I glance at her. "How do you mean?"

"I can tell you went through things not of your choosing. Whereas, I chose drugs. I put myself in that situation and Father Oliver still saw fit to save me. You … you had no choice, did you?"

I shake my head, willing the tears not to come. The flashbacks. The fear. Why did Thomas not scare me when he hurt me? When he punished me? Yet a simple memory is enough to send me into a tailspin.

"Can you—"

"Lisa is taking awfully long, isn't she?" I interrupt. I can't go down that road in public. No way.

Catherine sighs and checks her phone. "Oh, actually, she is. Come with me and we can check on her."

I go to say I can wait and watch the bags when I remember I'm not allowed to be alone. For a minute, I forgot I'm still a prisoner. Just one in designer clothes.

We gather the bags and head into the café, which isn't overly crowded.

"There's been a man who keeps acting oddly towards her whenever she and Thomas head into town. I hope he's not bothering her," Catherine says. "Oh dear…"

I look in the direction she is and I've never been more thankful to have only had a banana smoothie for breakfast or else it all would've made a spectacular reappearance at the sight I now witness.

Lisa, carrying a tray of drinks and a bag, stands ramrod straight, trying to avoid eye contact with the man speaking to her. Now, Lisa has struck me as a strong, confident woman who fears nothing. Someone I wish I could be. Right now, she reminds me of a scared deer.

And I don't blame her.

I am an hour outside of the city. Free from the motherfucker for a year already. Yet … he's here. Apparently been here? Still just as fat and disgusting and fake charming as ever, except Lisa isn't buying into Mike's game. She clearly sees he's a creep. If only she knew how much of one.

"No. No, no…"

Catherine turns towards me. "Diana?"

Lisa spots us, relief coming to her face, and as Mike goes to turn and see what she is looking at, I do the only thing my body will let me: I get the fuck out of there.