Chapter Three

The past always seemed to catch up with Bunny, whether she was holding it close to her chest like a security blanket, or at an arm's length in desperation to make it go away.

Pain is funny in that eventually you begin to find familiarity in it, and with that new normal comes comfort. You become all too content with the drowning weight of sadness.

Her suffering felt all-consuming, the darkness of her past ever-looming.

While Bunny could feel the fierce pangs in her belly, she couldn't bring herself to touch any of the food her captor had left. She knew it would taste like ash in her mouth. Instead, she plucked a water bottle from the basket and twisted the top off with shaking fingers.

Bunny's dark green manicure was chipping. Not that it mattered much. Who did she have to impress? Certainly not the sociopath who had kidnapped her.

A vortex of dark thoughts spun in her pounding head regardless of the haze: hand-covered ears picking up the distant shouting of an angry man as he ripped a door open and slammed it closed. Not to leave the room, no. Just to hear the noise and feel catharsis in the violence of the act.

The physical conflicts had happened far more often than Bunny cared to remember. Half of the time she couldn't, anyway. She had always been her father's child, high on temper and low on self-control during her episodic anger.

Her mother was the opposite. That demure woman never stood a chance against the wrath Bunny's father rained on his household whenever he lost his temper. But honestly, Bunny had a hard time finding sympathy. Her mother should have protected her as a child. She hadn't.

With a start, Bunny realized she had been spiraling, deep in her thoughts. Lately, she had these thoughts more and more. Her therapist called them emotional flashbacks.

Even when she was doing nothing related to any of it. Even when she was trying to do anything but think about what life was like before she managed to escape and build something better for herself.

Maybe the social workers who got involved were right. Perhaps this situation was exactly what she should have expected from herself, what she deserved. Girls from broken homes made stupid mistakes, and those oversights landed them in places like this.

She had read the reports compiled by the people who had come to investigate the bruises left on her when her father lost control. Her purported fate had been repeated over and over by stiff professionals who were clear about their lack of faith in her future because of her past.

Bunny had always said she would never be a statistic… But at the end of the day, she knew everybody was a statistic, a sum of their demographics.

What the fuck is this and why does it have to happen to me? Was all she could think. Her head still felt like it was full of cotton, the haze continuing even now, hours later.

Bunny was only familiar with Ativan. She'd been given Benzos by her psychiatrist when the panic attacks began growing more intense. The other drug mentioned was foreign to her.

Bunny wanted to cry again, but tears were nowhere to be found. Separation from self was simply a way of life when you grew up with heavy trauma, and only bad ways out. Depersonalization became your daily reality. It felt like a waking nightmare. Or so she had thought. No, Bunny was quickly realizing that the true nightmare was the horrifying situation she had found herself thrust into.

This wasn't supposed to happen. She had fought, clawed, and tore through the academic world to obtain a full-ride scholarship. She busted and hauled ass to get where she was.

And next? Graduate school, where she would gain a Masters in Archeology, to be followed by a Doctorate. She had bled for this life and had made things happen that she only halfway thought were possible.

And now, it was seemingly all for nothing.

Bunny took a few tentative sips of the water, grateful it was room temperature. She doubted her stomach could handle the shock of cold liquid. Setting aside the bottle, Bunny laid back down and fell into the hazy catatonia she had found so much comfort in during the worst of her younger years.

With any luck, it would get her through this hellish situation, too.

A hand rapping at the door startled Bunny. Is he seriously knocking? She thought, bewildered by the bizarre decision.

Her captor had taken her dignity. Why the hell would he give her the illusion of privacy?

In the next moment, a new person entered the room. He was dressed similarly to her captor; understated but expensive. Bunny wheeled backward, curling her knees to her chest and crossing her feet, arms wrapped over her breasts.

"Hello, Barbara. My name is Michael. I'm Demetrius' assistant." The man said pleasantly, as though he were meeting an acquaintance and not standing in front of a naked, kidnapped girl.

He had tousled brown hair, black glasses with a square frame, and a five-o'clock shadow. Bunny immediately had the feeling that he was one of those people who always seemed unkempt, regardless of the effort put into his appearance.

The word she was trying to conjure wasn't sleazy, but sleazy was close enough.

Bunny gulped, cheeks heating at her exposure, before looking at him, pleading clear in her expression. "Please, Michael, you have to help me. Demetrius kidnapped me. This isn't by choice, and I need your help. My friends and family will be incredibly worried. Please." Her voice was hushed and pleading. She didn't actually have many friends, and her family didn't give a shit, but he didn't have to know that.

"You can walk around this basement apartment as much as you want tomorrow. Demetrius wants to begin working with you before then, though. There's a kitchen down the hall with anything you need in it… except for sharp objects, of course." He chuckled at the end of his own sentence and her jaw almost dropped. He was in on it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?" She screeched.

"For what it's worth, I sympathize with your position, Barbara... But it's kind of out of my hands. And it's not all bad, I promise. Demetrius isn't a bad man-" Michael was cut off by incredulous laughter.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Not a bad man? He kidnapped me, chased me through the woods, assaulted me, and now he's keeping me here against my will. He's a goddamn monster, and you are too if you don't help me get the fuck out of here." By the end, she was shrieking and trembling with anger.

"I'm sorry, Barbara, but I can't help you." He snapped as though agitated with her.

With that, Michael turned and left the room, and Bunny screamed after him, "And don't call me Barbara, asshole! My name is BUNNY."

Frankly, she felt a little ridiculous. People often questioned her nickname. What self-respecting adult insisted people call them a cutesy name for a rabbit?

But the nickname was hers. She chose it, and a title felt immeasurably important compared to what little she could choose about herself.

Even so, it did feel silly to be screaming at an accomplice to her kidnapping and assault, demanding he call her "Bunny."

Just then, she realized that Michael had used a name: Demetrius. Bunny now knew who had done this to her. What a stupid name, she thought as she crossed her arms.

Another knock sounded soon after Michael left. This time, it was loud and confident instead of loose and timid. She knew it was Demetrius before he opened the door.

Bunny looked away, fear pooling in her belly and tightening her dry throat. She wanted more water but was frozen as she waited for him to make the first move.

"Hello, little Bunny." He purred, stalking forward like a panther. He was sleek, attractive, and predatory in all the right ways. His black hair and dark eyes created a stunning picture. In a different situation, she might have pined after him. In the current circumstances, Bunny wanted nothing more than to drive a knife through his bastard neck.

"It's Barbara to you, you fucking sicko. What do you want?" She was nearly squeaking as her pulse picked up, racing faster the closer he came. It was a wonder she could find the courage to be so disrespectful… but fuck him, honestly.

She might take issue with anybody else using the formal version of her name. But this deranged lunatic? It was the only name she wanted in his mouth. Her nickname made it feel like he had claimed some intimacy with her that he had no right to.

"I just want to check in on you. I gave you a hefty dose and that comes with side effects." He grabbed a chair without slowing down and dragged it with him as he approached her.

Demetrius swung the chair around in one movement and sat in it, looking every bit like a bored monarch giving council to his lowly serf.

She wanted to ask for clarification on the cocktail of drugs, but she decided she'd rather not know the specifics. Instead, Bunny swallowed, attempting to wet her throat, and decided to play along. That was the right decision, wasn't it? To keep your captor placated and happy until help arrived?

She hoped to God it was because she'd be pissed if she ended up on one of those late-night True Crime shows as a cautionary tale.

Don't be a dumb bitch, or you'll end up like this dumb bitch, she thought sardonically.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the water," Was all she could manage.

"Good, I'm glad," He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, leaning slightly to rest his face in his hand, "Now, come here. Crawl to me."

Bunny froze, eyes widening as she waited to see if this asshole was serious.

From the look of it, he was.

"You can make this easy or hard on yourself, Bunny. I won't repeat myself and you have five seconds to comply. One, two, three…" He started counting, and Bunny eased herself to her knees until she was exactly where she didn't want to be: right where he wanted her.

She was all too aware of her nakedness. Blame it on the rise of contrived perfection via social media or the constant weight of societal expectations placed on the shoulders of women, but she had never been comfortable in her skin. Even though she knew she was stunningly attractive, she struggled with self-esteem.

Bunny trained her eyes on the floor as she shifted, chewing her lower lip.

Once she was on all fours at his feet, she felt a hand slip under her chin and jerked back, sucking a quick breath through her nose. Demetrius simply chuckled and then grabbed her chin more firmly.

"So jumpy, little Bunny. But I do love seeing you like this, so helpless and fragile." When she glanced up, her eyes meeting his, he looked amused.

The fucker.

"What do you say we get acquainted? I'll start. My name is Demetrius. I'm an entrepreneur with a few projects in the works. I spend most of my limited free time reading and working on myself."

He sounded like a douchebag. Of course, he'd refer to himself as an entrepreneur, and of course, he would feel it necessary to mention that… as though it was relevant in any capacity. He needed everybody to know that he was his own boss.

"Your turn." He said, tightening his grip on her chin.

She gritted her teeth, "My name's Bunny and I'm a student. I like margaritas and long walks on the beach…. Oh, and mentally stable men who don't kidnap and assault me." She returned the casual tone with a little more flair, mocking his ridiculous introduction.

"Oh, good. It's nice to see you still have a sense of humor under all that fear." He chuckled, stroking the side of her jaw with his thumb.

She recoiled again at the tender gesture. Demetrius shot his hand out and grabbed her by the neck. Bunny froze as the crush of his grip began to restrict her breathing.

"What do you say we start in full, Bunny? You seem like you're feeling up to it. I'm ready to play if you are." He said with an enthusiasm that made her skin crawl.

Bunny's heart plummeted to her stomach and then shot up into her throat, the sensation making her nauseous. She was most certainly not ready and never would be. But it was obvious this man was not used to hearing the word, "No." She briefly wondered if he was even aware of its existence.

"I really wish you'd just let me go." She whimpered, looking up at him through tear-beaded eyelashes.

"I can't do that for you, Bunny. But I can do other things I know you'll like if you learn to relax into the pleasure I'm about to bring you."