Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

KARMEN

"S ign it." My mother holds out the pen, forcing me to take it.

"Who are you?" I pretend I still have no clue what is going on. It's really the only move I have left to play at this point.

"It doesn't matter." She flicks her gaze over to Andrew. "What's wrong with her?"

"It's the meds."

"Whatever." She shakes her head in annoyance. "Sign the paper."

"My hands are kind of occupied." I hold up my bound wrists and then I notice she can't even look me in the eye.

I have no idea what the paperwork is. It says something about a trust across the top of it, and I believe I recognize the names of my maternal grandparents. I think I might have met them once or twice when I was very young.

"Untie her hands," she orders Andrew.

Andrew grabs me by the hair, pulling my head back. "Are you going to behave?"

"Whatever gets her out of here quicker," I say honestly.

I don't want to tell him that I'll behave. It's a small defiance, but I would like for him to free my hands. When he pulls out the knife, I swallow hard. Thankfully, he's careful as he slides it through the tape and frees my hands. After I pull the tape off my wrists, they are throbbing.

"Now." She pushes the pen toward me, and as I take it from her hand, I notice Andrew stepping away from me. He still has the knife in his hand, but he's smart to be cautious. It would end badly for me if I attacked him now, but I'm not going to go down without a fight.

"What do I sign?" I play dumb.

"Karmen Phillips," she snaps.

"With a C or K?" I'm probably selling this too hard, but no use in making it easy for her.

"K," she spits, and I sign the paper. The second I'm done, she snatches the pen from my hand before I have a chance to do anything.

"Our deal is done," Andrew tells my mother excitedly.

"Yeah." She picks up the papers, and I stare at her, willing her to say something. Anything. I don't know why I bother because it's clear she's a shitty person. But still, it burns. "It was nice knowing you."

With those parting words, my mother turns and walks away. Her heels click loudly on the concrete floor as she leaves me alone with Andrew.

"Now it's finally the two of us alone." Andrew runs a finger down my arm. "Come with me." He guides me deeper into the old building, pushing open one of the hallway doors.

When I think things couldn't get creepier, Andrew goes and proves me wrong. He wasn't lying when he claimed to have gotten my things from my mother. It's almost a complete replica of my childhood bedroom. I hate it, but then again I always had.

My mother designed my bedroom, and everything was always about appearances. She decorated the entire house as if it belonged in a magazine. In terms of her taste in home design, it was very traditional. I think she was going for an old-money vibe, but it always came off as stuffy and bland.

"Do you love it?" Andrew comes up behind me, and I close my eyes, praying he doesn't touch me.

"It's beautiful," I lie. What else can I say? I'm not trying to piss him off. Not yet, anyway. I don't want him to tie my hands again.

"Really?" He sounds so hopeful, so I nod my head.

"It feels like home."

"You are home, my precious."

I'm really starting to hate that word. It's like we're in Lord of the Rings, but Gollum has a bit more hair than Andrew does. Although they could probably pass for siblings.

"How come you never told me you danced?" Andrew asks as he steps around in front of me. I watch as he walks over to the dresser and places the knife on top of it. It's next to a picture of me at one of my ballet recitals. That feels like a lifetime ago.

"I quit a few years back," I admit. I miss it, but my mother ruined it for me. She really does ruin everything.

"I think it's time you got back to it." Andrew pulls out a pale pink leotard, holding it up. It's so tiny that it might actually be mine from when I was a kid.

"I'm not sure I remember how."

He walks towards me, and thunder strikes. It makes me flinch as the whole building shakes.

"You'll do it for me," he says, and it chills me to my bones.

When he cups my cheek with his cold hand, my heart starts to pound in my chest. I'm running out of time and there's no way out. I can't believe this is happening or that my own mother abandoned me to this freak.

Another loud bang echoes in my ears, but I realize this time it's coming from inside the building.

"Help! Andrew!" My mother's scream echoes against the metal walls.

"Don't move," Andrew orders before rushing out of the room.

He shuts the door behind him, and I hear the loud click of a lock. I rush over and check the knob anyway, but it won't budge. Knowing this might be my only chance, I search the room for anything I can use to protect myself. My eyes land on the knife, and I pick it up, testing the weight in my hand. I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but I won't go down easily.

Should I hide the knife and play along until I can attack, or should I lunge for him the second he opens the door? While the first approach may be safer, I'm not sure if I could maintain my composure while waiting. What happens if I don't get a moment to strike or if he notices that the knife is no longer on the dresser?

A small scream leaves me when thunder booms again. The building shakes like it's made out of tin foil, and I can't help but think this is turning into a real-life horror movie. At least I'm not a virgin anymore.

I grab the pink leotard from the floor where Andrew dropped it and wrap it around the knife handle. I remember how my hand slipped when I stabbed him with the pencil, so I want to make sure my hold is firm. Pressing my back against the wall, I wait. When he opens the door, I'll be right behind it and I can jump out and attack.

While I wait, I listen for any sounds and my mind drifts to Rourk, all of him coming back to me in my mind. I wonder where he is and if he knows that I've been taken. Will he be worried or think I ran away? My eyes burn with tears as I imagine him thinking that I ran from him. What if he never knows that I love him? For a brief moment in time, I knew I belonged to someone. Why didn't I tell him when I had the chance?

When I see the door handle wiggle, my whole world stops. A second later, the door cracks open a tiny bit, and then it pops open the rest of the way.

When he moves through the doorway, I lunge.

Except it isn't Andrew on the other side.