12. Dolly

12

DOLLY

I t had been a day. But I couldn't be sure because time seemed to melt together with a strange, warped sensation. The weight of everything that happened was almost suffocating.

Lars had brought in two more meals, and taken me to the restroom a few times, but I never saw him do it. I'd doze off for only a second and wake up to find the meals waiting for me. I watched the sun set and rise once each. I'd barely slept. I was too on edge, too afraid to close my eyes because I didn't know if he'd try to tattoo me again.

And every time I drifted off, I woke up in a panic thinking Lars would be standing over me with a needle and ink, watching me intently, or maybe with rope to bind me to the bed so he could do what he wanted to me.

But on the heels of those nightmarish thoughts, I knew if he wanted to hurt me, he had ample time and opportunities to do so already. He'd been feeding me, had brought all my creature comforts here, but despite "taking care" of me, I was his prisoner.

I'd just finished a light… lunch? Hell, I didn't know what time of day it was to know if I was eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door because I heard movement right outside just moments before.

I'd had a lot of time to just think about what I was going to do. I knew he'd probably catch me if I ran, but I was going to fight back. I wasn't going to just submit, even if it was a senseless war.

Lars didn't lock me in the bedroom. I knew that because I tested it earlier. Would I have tried to leave at that moment? I thought about it as I reached out with my trembling hand and turned the knob just enough to hear the faint click of the latch disengaging.

But fear had taken over, and I hadn't opened it. I couldn't bring myself to. The idea of actually stepping out of the room and facing the unknown—of facing him —filled me with a cold, paralyzing fear.

I checked the window, but it would've been no help in my escape, either. This cabin was so old that thick layers of paint sealed its edges. The glass was immobile, but I didn't know if that was because of Lars or because this place was ancient and just built that way.

But despite all that, I'd tried.

I focused on the door again. I didn't know exactly where I was, but I had to assume I was still in Romania. I could see between a couple of the logs that the cabin was isolated. There was nothing out there but a densely wooded forest and danger.

More dangerous than what's in here?

There was so much… silence. I didn't hear cars or any kind of civilization. The only sounds I could hear were the rustling of trees as the wind picked up, the chirp of birds, and the animals scurrying around on the forest floor.

And then there was the occasional creak of the floorboards as Lars moved back and forth just behind the door that was my lock and key to this prison.

Lars had done one hell of a job completely cutting me off from the outside world.

No phone. No computer or internet. Nothing but the decades-old furniture and bedside lamp that gave the room a muted, eerie vibe.

He made sure it was just him and me.

When he still had yet to come back and I was too nervous to try the door again, I stood and started pacing the room for what felt like the hundredth time. My thoughts were an endless cycle of frantic and disjointed "what ifs."

I had to get out.

I have to do something .

And the time for that was now.

Frustration boiled inside me, and I curled my hands into tight fists, feeling my anger rise. I had to take control. I felt like I was suffocating in this room, in this nightmare that didn't seem to end, and the walls were closing in.

My thoughts were jumbled when the bedroom door opened, and my heart leapt into my throat. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing as I kept laser-focused on Lars as he entered.

"Dolly."

I licked my dry lips, not speaking.

He had another glass of water and set it on the bedside table. "I've been waiting for you to come out and explore more of the cabin." He spoke in a low, calm voice, as if this was all perfectly normal.

I didn't respond. Hell, I was pretty sure I wasn't even breathing as I tracked his every movement. His expression was unreadable, his presence filling the room with a dark energy that paralyzed me.

"You're barely eating," he stated matter-of-factly, his tone gentle but firm, as if he were a parental figure scolding me for not eating my vegetables.

I narrowed my eyes. He acted like he was doing me a favor. Did he think he was caring for me by kidnapping and keeping me as his prisoner?

"You don't have to speak," he finally said. "But it makes no difference. I know what you need. I know how to care for you."

I didn't know how much longer I could do this before I lost my mind. How much longer could I stay locked in this room, kept like a little bird in his gilded cage?

"And what you need right now is to clean up." He didn't give me a chance to respond, and I was so frozen with my emotions that my plan to fight him and try to leave was momentarily forgotten.

All I could picture was being forced to clean myself in front of this man.

"I'm going to run you a bath. Get what you need and meet me in the bathroom." Without another word, he turned and left, the door staying open behind him.

And just like that… he expected me to do what he wanted.