Chapter 2

2

My head is pounding when I regain consciousness. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. I’m lying on a hard surface, which seems weird to me. At first I think I’m lying on the ground outside where I passed out, but there are no city noises. Instead, I hear classical music being piped in from a speaker above me.

And I smell... roses. One of those highly fragrant varieties. I must be at Andrew’s place. But why the fuck did he leave me on the ground? It’s at this point that I realize I’m naked. Also, Andrew doesn’t listen to classical music.

Instinctively, I want to bolt upright and cover myself, but I don’t have that kind of reaction time. And it’s a real struggle to open my eyes. When I do, I’m momentarily grateful to be in a dimly lit room.

“A-Andrew?” I croak out. I want to scream at him for dumping me on the ground in his apartment, but I can barely choke his name out. I wait for my eyes to adjust. Everything around me is dark gray, and there’s no furniture in this room.

Cell, my mind hisses at me. I am in a cell.

I push myself off the ground into a sitting position and wait for my vision to go back to normal so I can get a sense of where I am. Did Andrew put me in here? He’s a bigger bastard than I thought. This is when I finally realize I’m not alone.

There’s a large, dark figure sitting on the ground against the far wall.

“Andrew, you piece of shit. What are you doing?”

I probably shouldn’t speak to the person who rescued me from homelessness this way, but I don’t care. He needs to grow the fuck up. I expect him to yell at me or threaten to kick me out, but what I hear instead chills me.

“Who’s Andrew?”

This is definitely not Andrew’s voice. No accent. Plus it’s deeper and more frightening. Suddenly the adrenaline hits me, and I have a sudden burst of speed. I back as far from him as I can until I meet the opposite wall. I shield my breasts from his gaze and shift to a sitting position where he can’t see other private parts—even though I know he’s already seen everything. And possibly done more. I was unconscious after all.

As my vision clears further, it seems that the light in the room gets a little brighter. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, no shoes. His dark hair looks a bit disheveled. He’s very attractive. Heart-stoppingly beautiful, actually. It’s the kind of unearthly beauty that makes me feel relieved for a moment because I know I’m still passed out. This is a weird dream. I just know it is.

It’s not a dream, whispers the same evil internal voice that decided to tell me I was in a cell.

It takes several minutes before my mind is willing to accept what has happened. I don’t know if someone put something in my drink or if I was just that drunk. I don’t know how long this man stalked me before he took me, but I know I’m looking at the man who kidnapped me.

And now the tears come. It takes every ounce of willpower not to break down into hysterical sobs. This reaction is making a lie out of everything I thought I knew about myself. The strength and control I thought I had in my life. Even up to very recently, I thought I was handling things.

But this is the last straw. It’s the last tiny push I needed to find myself in a free fall.

Another dark thought pushes its way into my mind. No one is going to be looking for me. Does the man who took me know that? Andrew sure as shit won’t look or file a police report.

My landlady might not realize why I didn’t pack my things up first, but as nice as Carolyn is, she’ll just be glad she doesn’t have to have me forcibly removed. She isn’t going to report my disappearance to the police. What disappearance? I’ve been evicted. I’m not supposed to be there.

There is no reality now but me and my captor. I’m trying desperately not to think about the reasons this man took me. To rape me? To kill me? To torture me? He sure as shit isn’t going to let me go when he’s done with whatever’s on his nefarious agenda. I know you can’t appeal to a sociopath, and nobody normal does something like this.

Still, I can’t help begging. “P-please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” he says.

Huh?

“You can let me go,” I say. “I won’t say anything.”

“I can’t let you go. I didn’t put you in here.”

“What?” For a moment, my confusion overtakes my fear. What does he mean he didn’t put me in here? Of course he did. Who the fuck can he blame? The invisible demon perched on his shoulder?

He shakes his head slowly. “I’m in the same boat as you, sweetheart.”

I glance back and forth between us. He has clothes on, and they don’t look like he’s worn them for days. Meanwhile, I’m naked. We are not in the same boat.

“I don’t believe you,” I say. “You’re playing with me somehow.”

He shrugs. “Believe what you want, but I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe with me.”

I know it’s some kind of trick. He wants me to trust him so he can turn the tables on me. Sick bastard. But for the moment, he isn’t lunging toward me; he isn’t getting up from his spot on the ground.

So I take this time to get a better sense of where I am. It’s a plain gray cell, not really much to see. And actually there is one thing in here—a large mattress. It actually looks nice, like it recently came out of some upscale mattress warehouse. It isn’t dirty or dingy, and it looks like it’s comfortable. It’s larger than a full-sized, but probably not a king. There are no pillows, sheets, or blankets, though.

The mattress is on the floor next to the guy, like he’s guarding it. Behind him and to one side are heavy long chains bolted into the wall. I look behind me to find there are also heavy chains bolted into the wall behind me. I bite back the urge to scream or cry again. It won’t do me any good. I have to try to keep it together.

There’s a slot in the wall that looks big enough to pass food through but not much else. And there’s a door that looks like it has a lot of security on it. But it’s not the only door.

To my right, there’s another doorway. There’s no actual door on it but, instead, a bamboo beaded curtain that almost reaches the ground. Light streams out from it into the cell, and I realize suddenly that this other room is the only source of light.

“What’s in there?” I ask, pointing in the direction of the mystery room.

“Bathroom,” he says.

I still don’t believe this guy is another innocent victim. He seems way too large and in charge, and strong, to ever be in this kind of situation. But as long as he’s going to pretend, I’ll pretend with him.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to speak, and suddenly the music shuts off and a dark, menacing voice enters the room through the speaker.

“No names!” he growls. “You will address him as Master.”

That’s not Andrew, either.

The man’s eyes widen at the same time mine do. He seems both shocked and disgusted by this suggestion from our mysterious captor of what I should call him. But neither of us addresses this. We sit uncomfortably, pretending these words weren’t spoken.

But then my co-captive speaks. “Let us out of here, you sick son of a bitch! I will fucking kill you!”

The only response is a chuckle. “Yes, put on a brave show for the girl, but in the end, you will both dance for me, my little monkeys.”

There’s a part of me that wants to go to the other guy in the cell, as if he can protect me from all of this.

The voice crackles over the speaker again. “I will feed you when you’ve fucked her.”

Suddenly I’m glad I stayed where I am—as far away from the stranger on the other side of the cell as I can get. Not that that makes a real difference.

“Fuck you,” the man says. “I’m not going to rape her.”

“Okay. Starve then. But she’ll starve, too. She’s quite a little thing. I bet the hunger will get to her first. So you’ll get to watch her die. Enjoy.”

It’s no longer some great mystery why I’m naked and my co-captive isn’t. I’m bait for the evil game of our captor. The music comes back on.

We both sit in stunned silence for a minute, staring up at the speaker in the ceiling, as if expecting the voice to return, but it doesn’t.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I say to the man in the cell with me. Even though I know he’s seen me naked, I don’t want to just get up and walk in front of him to the bathroom.

He nods, stands, and turns around. “Tell me when you’re in there.”

I hesitate for a moment but then get up and cross to the doorway. When I push back the beaded curtain, I let out a gasp. I expected the bathroom to be just like the cell. Plain gray walls, maybe a metal toilet, a sink, and if we were incredibly lucky, a drain in the floor and a shower head.

But this is a real bathroom. A luxury bathroom. This is the kind of bathroom only the very rich can afford. This room is probably twice the size of the cell, and the cell isn’t tiny. I notice there is a speaker in here as well piping in the same classical music.

“Okay,” I say to the man in the other room.

I wonder why my co-captive isn’t hanging out in here. I don’t know what to look at first, but I settle on the roses. There’s a large bouquet of white roses in a vase on the marble countertop. The colors of the room are warm gold and cream. There’s a giant rain shower that can easily accommodate two people as well as an oversized jacuzzi tub. The actual toilet is at the back of the room in another sort of smaller room. There’s no door, just a curtain, but it does allow another layer of privacy.

I feel weirdly comfortable about peeing now because I realize with the distance, the extra enclosed toilet space, and the music, the man in the cell won’t hear me. It’s such a stupid thing to be concerned with right now, but still, it makes me feel marginally better inside the horror of this situation.

After I use the bathroom and wash my hands, I look through the cabinets. There are soaps and lotions and bath oils and bubble baths. No real help for escape here unless we can somehow MacGyver a bubble bath bomb.

There’s a full first aid kit. Bandages of all sizes, medical tape, salves, ointments, Hydrogen peroxide, and alcohol. I find this discovery more than a little disturbing. Why is our captor providing us with this stuff, and what will happen that requires it?

In another cabinet are stacks of neatly folded wash cloths and hand towels and bath mats and giant bath towels. I pull out one of the enormous towels and wrap it around myself then walk back out into the main cell, covered now at least.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey. What do we do now?”

We both know what we’re supposed to do now, but of course we aren’t going to do that. I’m not sure what he’ll do if he gets hungry enough. I move back to the place across the room and gingerly sit back down.

“We wait,” he says.

“How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days. I’ve already looked for escape options. There are none.” He points up at the ceiling. “In the corners, do you see those shiny black things?”

I squint. I hadn’t noticed them before. “Yes.”

“Cameras,” he says. “There aren’t any in the bathroom, though. Though there are probably listening devices in there.”

I allow this piece of information to settle in my brain.

“W-when was the last time you ate?”

He winces at this. “Don’t worry. I ate half an hour before he brought you in.”

“Have you used the shower or the tub?”

“The shower.”

“So he’s not going to come in here and hurt us if I...”

The man shakes his head. “He won’t come in until I eat. He drugs the food. So if you want to take a bath or a shower, you’ll be safe.”

“You won’t come in?”

He shakes his head. “I promise.”

“Do you think he’ll starve us if we don’t do what he says?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

I look away. I don’t know what to say to this. It’s not as though it would be any great tragedy to sleep with this beautiful man, but I don’t think I can do it with someone else watching. I might feel differently about this when I get hungry enough.

Since I’m in no exact immediate danger, I don’t cry again. I feel stupidly safer with this other man here even though I know obviously something bad is going to happen, things we’ll both be forced to do together to survive. And in the end, we probably won’t anyway.

“I’m going to take a bath,”

He nods. He doesn’t turn away this time because I’m covered in a bath towel. It takes a while for the tub to fill up. I put in some raspberry bath oil and take one of the roses from the vase and sprinkle the petals in. I’m trying to feel normal. Inside this bathroom, I can pretend that things are somehow normal.

I sink beneath the steaming hot water and lean back against the rim of the tub, closing my eyes and listening to the classical music.

I stay like this until the water goes cool. But no matter what I do, I can’t convince myself that I’m having a normal bath on a normal day.

As I’m getting out of the tub and drying off, it occurs to me, my co-captive knew about this bathroom. He knew about the towels. He could have covered me so I didn’t wake up like that. He would have had to have been unconscious when I was brought in, of course. Maybe he’d woken up just before me and didn’t have time. Maybe I was already stirring, and he didn’t want to startle me. Or maybe... he liked the view and isn’t that honorable.

I find myself unsettled by these possibilities as I return to the cell.

Hours pass. I try not to look at him, but I fail. There isn’t much to look at or occupy my time. The music is becoming a little obnoxious, and to be honest, I would rather have the silence. It’s like Chinese water torture.

I mean sure, it’s not drip drip drip drip drip. But without the ability to turn the music off, it has that same maddening quality.

Whenever I catch myself looking at my co-captive, he’s already looking at me, watching in that silent way he does. Despite our shared situation, I can’t help feeling like his prey. How hungry is he? Is he thinking about fucking me to get fed? Is he thinking about how easy it would be to just take me? Is he calculating how quickly his conscience might shut up if he just does what has been asked of him?

“You should try to get some sleep,” he finally says. His gaze shifts to the mattress beside him. An invitation?

“I-I’m fine.”

“I’d bring the mattress over to you, but it’s somehow bolted to the floor. I’d switch places with you, but I need to be facing the door.”

The wall he sits against is directly opposite from the door to the outside world. My wall, the one I’ve been sitting against, is the same wall that door is on. The bathroom door is a third wall to my right and his left.

He moves a few feet over, so that he’s more in direct alignment with the door he watches when he isn’t watching me, but it isn’t nearly enough space. “Come lie down. I won’t touch you.”

I shake my head and stay where I am.