3. WILLOW

I’m not sure how long I’m stuck in the trunk of the psycho”s car for, but when we come to a stop and he opens it up it’s still night time so it couldn’t have been that long. We must still be in the city then, not like that information does me much good to know.

Once I realized my muffled screams were getting me nowhere I used the time alone in the dark to try and calm down and come up with a plan to get out of this, which as of now, is still nonexistent.

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, his head tilts to the side as he observes me like I’m a specimen under a microscope. Then, as if I weigh nothing, he picks me up and carries me in his arms up to his house.

I try my best to not focus on how his arms and solid chest feel against me or how tight his grip is. Just because I”ve never been touched by another man before, in any way, shouldn’t make me enjoy any of his attention. He doesn’t stop me as I focus on my surroundings instead, which I feel doesn’t bode well for my future.

His car is parked outside a two door garage that’s separate to the large house we’re walking up to. I can just see past his arm to the long driveway behind him that leads to a huge solid metal gate and tall stone wall that wraps around the estate like a fortress.

Even if I managed to get away from him, there’s no chance I could scale it. If I can bide my time and find a way to unlock it then I might have a chance. Otherwise, I’m well and truly trapped here for however long he decides to keep me around for.

My lip starts to throb and I realize I’ve been biting down on it too hard behind the tape, the pain seems to help ground me. Although swallowing the taste of blood makes my stomach churn.

His lazy smirk is back on his face after it vanished for that brief moment when he had me pinned to the ground earlier.

Part of me had the urge to kiss him then and still does now. There’s a scar on his lip, a deep gouge and I keep finding myself looking at it, wanting to touch it with my fingers and tongue. I shake the thoughts away and ignore the strange heat in my lower belly. This man is a murderer and a kidnapper. The disgusting things he did to those men will soon happen to me.

I look away from him as a sob escapes and my tears start to come back. As he carries me the last few steps to the door, I focus on keeping my whereabouts. The outside of the house looks modern and when he opens the front door I find the inside matches. Everything is decorated in sterile white and light gray. Peak serial killer vibes. I wonder if he picked the colors out himself. What am I thinking? Domesticating him is probably just my brain’s way of protecting me from everything so I don’t have a mental breakdown.

My body is trembling with adrenaline and I can feel my heart rate spike every time I think about what’s going to happen next.

“You don’t want to play, little kitten? You’re not fighting me anymore.” I ignore him as he unlocks a door just down the hall from the front door. The light inside comes on automatically revealing a narrow staircase down to the basement.

Cold panic laces through my veins. I try to struggle from his grip but his arms are so tight around me and his fingers dig painfully into my skin. With my wrists tied together I scratch at his face but he barely blinks.

“If you blind me with those claws, I might end up dropping you down the stairs,” he says calmly. I know he’s right but I don’t stop. Snapping my neck at the bottom of the fall would be better than whatever he’s got planned for me.

I keep fighting him and he sighs, ”fine.” He loosens his grip on me and tosses me up into the air. I scream behind the tape as my stomach swoops from the movement but I’m only in the air for less than a second before I’m back in his arms. I cling tight to his chest digging my fingers into the fabric of his shirt as I press my face to his shoulder, the cool leather of his jacket soothing on my skin. His deep laugh rumbles through his chest and into mine.

“Bastard,” I mumble but the words are garbled. He must understand though because he laughs harder.

As we descend, I keep my eyes closed tight, then when I feel the ground start to even out I look up.

The basement is nothing more than that. A normal basement. Where I thought there’d be chains and torture equipment are just stacks of storage boxes and furniture draped in dust sheets pushed up close to the walls.

He carries me to a door on the other side of the room which he unlocks with his keys.

The room’s tiny, more like a storage closet than an actual room. Shelving units filled with cans of food and other essentials take up most of the space. I suppose if you’re a murderer you don’t want to be showing your face in the grocery store every week.

He sits me down on the floor in the corner and looks around the space with a frown. “I’ve never had a house guest before. You’ll probably need some things,” he says, I think to himself more than me.

I’m not sure how to feel about being the only person he’s held prisoner here.

Does that mean he doesn’t normally go around abducting girls to abuse? He probably gets all the consensual sex he wants thanks to his good looks, then again he’s hardly got good people skills.

“I’m honored,” I mumble to myself sarcastically. He crouches down in front of me. I shrink back against the wall as he reaches out and in one quick motion he tears the tape off my lips.

“Ah motherfu–” I shout as my lips burn. I wet them with my tongue and the pain starts to dissolve into a mild tingle.

“Did that hurt?” he asks, staring at my mouth with an uncomfortable amount of interest.

“Go to hell,” I snap, avoiding his gaze as I try to look behind him. There’s not much room to get past him and with my limbs tied I’ve got even less of a chance.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he says, leaving before I can even try anything.

“Shit!” I scream, after he locks the door behind him.

I’m so screwed.