by Regan Claire
“Do you need anything?” Smith asks, stroking my hair, but I don’t answer. “I bet you’re still tired. You go on to sleep. I’ll be back down in the morning, April. You’ll feel a lot better by then, I promise.”
I don’t believe him, even though my head doesn’t hurt anymore. He was right, feeding from Henry did heal me. But I’m not sure anything will make my heart feel better by morning.
What did he do to Henry?
I’m not numb anymore, because I know what Smith did to him. He killed him, and I feel empty inside at the loss of a man I only knew for a few minutes. I had touched his soul, the purest part of him. I had healed him, made him better and stronger because of what I could do. We were so connected, that I felt his hope when he realized what I was doing.
Then I felt him die.
I think I died a little too.
“Why did you kill him?” I ask before he leaves the room. I don’t know why.
“Because you didn’t need him anymore,” he says, chilling me with his lack of emotion about it.
Something occurs to me, something my damaged head couldn’t quite make sense of before. “And those other people? Mick and Charlotte? You killed them too, didn’t you?”
“I already told you. I protected you from them. I’ll always protect you.”
“You didn’t need to protect me from Henry.” My face is wet from tears I didn’t know I was crying.
“You’re crying.” Smith walks back towards the bed and sits down. “I didn’t realize you would be so upset, my love. I didn’t know you wanted to keep him.”
I shake my head no, because he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He leans over and kisses my forehead again. I don’t flinch away this time
Finally, he leaves the room. I count my heartbeats to one hundred. Two hundred.
Then I let the hopelessness pour over me.
Needs to Escape
I don’t know how long I sobbed. After the tears stopped, I screamed. I don’t know how long that lasted either. Long enough that my throat hurts a little. I was quiet after that. I don’t know if I slept. All I know is that I’m awake now, and can hear Smith walking towards the door.
That, and I have to get out of here.
I hear two short knocks on the door before he walks in.
“Good morning!” Smith says, voice full of cheer.
I don’t answer.
He walks over and puts his hand where I know the chain is connected to the floor, not that I can see the stupid thing. “There, that should make things a little easier,” he says after a concentrated look.
The chain that was wrapped around my ankle is gone. I only know because I was sitting cross legged in the bed, and the bite of metal pressing against my skin when my ankle is crossed is gone.
I resist the urge to rub the spot. I’m not sure why.
“No more chain?” I ask. I can’t quite resist asking.
He gives a small chuckle, as if saying how cute. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet. I heard your little tantrum last night.”
Am I supposed to say sorry again? My jaw clenches.
He shakes his head. “This is temporary. I’m going to take you upstairs for breakfast. I thought it would be more civilized without the chain.”
Yeah, okay. Let’s worry about being civilized all of a sudden.
“Besides, I have a surprise for you.”
I’m no longer chained. Maybe I can try to make a break for it?
No, don’t be rash, April. He would catch me before I’d make it to a door. Especially since I don’t even know where the door out of here is. I don’t even know where “here” is. I have to play along, at least until I come up with a better plan, or any plan. If I’m convincing enough, he might not feel the need to chain me up again.
“I—I love surprises,” I manage to say. My voice is hoarse, from all the rage and fear and crying, and I can’t quite muster a smile, but Smith is beaming.
He kinda reminds me of a really big, really evil, golden retriever. A “good boy” thrown his way, and his tail’s wagging and tongue’s lagging.
I can work with that.
I follow him out of the room into what is clearly a half-finished basement. Light streams in from small windows too high on the walls to reach, and too small to escape through anyway. There are tarps around, and the ceiling is only halfway tiled. It looks like he’s in the middle of renovations. There is a piece of furniture, an old couch and a coffee table, and a spot on one wall that might have held a television at some point, but it’s currently taped off waiting to be painted. A good portion of the basement is largely unfinished, and under the smells of fresh drywall and paint, it smells the way basements do: like spiderwebs and damp dirt.
“I planned on finishing the rest of the basement for you. This is better though, because now you can pick out how you want everything. We can do it together,” he tells me. “Of course, I’ll need to build another room now.”
Another room? “Why?”
Smith pauses. “It’s part of your surprise.” He winks.
The stairs don’t creak as we go up, which is against horror movie etiquette, but is still a good thing. He can’t hear me sneak out of the basement if the stairs don’t creak. The door at the top has two large padlocks on it, which will be trickier to get through without detection.
I’m led through a very sparsely decorated house—take a left at the hallway and to the second door—where we pause, in front of a door. Is this my “surprise?”
“Go on,” Smith says. I look at him, then at the doorknob before reaching out to twist it open. I’m flinching a little and have to work to make my face relax. No matter what is behind this door, I have to be delighted, which will make Smith delighted, and I’m hoping a delighted Smith will let his guard down a little.
So I can escape.
The door opens to a… bathroom.
Is this the surprise? It’s better than more dead people.
“I thought you’d like to wash up before your present. I have towels and toiletries in that closet and there’s something for you to change into hanging behind the door.”
Oh. Okay. The kidnapping murderer is playing “good host” now. Sure.
“That’s so thoughtful. Thank you.”
He freaking blushes. Blushes! “I, uh, I just know how much you like to keep clean.”
I walk into the bathroom, but the door is grabbed before I can shut it all the way. I jump back at the sudden movement. Smith peeks his head in.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to get you.”
“Okay.”
“And April, the window is barred.” He shuts the door.
Well, joke’s on him, because I didn’t even notice the window yet. Okay, the joke’s on me because I’ve been kidnapped by a murderer who I don’t remember being married to.
It’s a lousy joke, really.
Still, I’m glad for the chance to shower. The cuckoo bastard is right, I do like to keep clean. I do a sweep in the bathroom for cameras to make sure he’s not also a perv. The door doesn’t lock, but I take an extra towel and shove it under the door frame in the hopes that it will act like a doorstop if he tries to come in, even though I know it won’t do anything.
The shower is quick, because I’m paranoid that I will take too long and he’ll come into the bathroom while I’m undressed. I really don’t want to take this kidnapping to the next level. The clean clothes he mentioned behind the door? If I was hoping for jeans and a t-shirt—or anything that would be good for runing away or fighting off an abductor—I was wrong. Hanging there is a sheath dress, in a barely blue. Of course he doesn’t give me any undergarments, so I don my dirties, and slip on the dress. The dress actually feels amazing on my skin. I think it’s pure silk, and must have cost a fortune. It looks killer on me, hugging every one of my curves, which was probably the point. Of course, the slit goes a bit high i
n the thigh, and the dress is just on this side of see-through. I panic for a minute, because I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want to be sexy for him. I don’t want him to look at me and get that look in his eyes. He’s too strong for me, and if he gets any ideas, there’s no way I can fight him off. My breathing is a little uneven. He has dressed me like a sex goddess, and I have a bad feeling he’s going to….
Wait.
Wait a minute.
If my dreams are right, then…I am a sex goddess. Or love goddess. Or something easily confused between the two. He said he has built a tolerance to my powers, but I don’t think he understands what that means, especially when he basically stutters every time I smile at him. Smith looks at me like I’m his drug of choice. Everything I remember about him supports his need for me. Sure, he has built up a tolerance to my abilities, but is it possible I can make him overdose?
Smith made a mistake when he gave me this dress, because in a dress like this, I’m dangerous.
I check the closet for the toiletries he’d mentioned and there’s nothing much. Just a brush, toothbrush, and toothpaste. I brush my teeth first, because clean teeth make everything seem more possible and I have to figure out how to get myself out of this mess. I towel dry my hair the best I can, then start brushing, and I almost feel like I’m polishing a piece of armor or something. I don’t have a plan other than to disarm Smith any way that I can, and get the heck out. Kicking and crying won’t make my situation any better, and could potentially make it a heck of a lot worse.
I have to wait for my opportunity.
I get a quick flashback of my former self, looking in a mirror much like I’m doing. Except, she thought she was stuck forever. Doomed and living life in secret moments. Same captor, different story.
Besides, someone will be looking for me, right? I don’t know the rules of this world. Will Eros try to find me? I remember my dream of his standing by my side on my wedding day. He didn’t try to stop it. If he knew where I was, would he stand by and let this happen to me again? Will Cora be worried when I don’t show up for work? Does she already know?
The brush falls into the sink as I feel the panic creep back in. What if I manage to escape and they just make me come back? Who else is involved in this world? Has Smith acted alone or does he have the blessing of his crazy mythological family behind him?
No, they can’t make me do anything.
I won’t let them.
My mind drifts back to Rhys, or maybe my heart does. I won’t be alone in my fight, and there’s no one better for that than Rhys, if he is in fact Ares.
There is a short knock at the door before it opens. The only thing the towel under the door grabs hold of is attention from Smith. He looks down at it, then at me.
“I didn’t want to let the steam escape. It’s so good for your pores,” I say, turning back to the mirror to smooth my hair. My hand is shaking, so I quickly finish up and turn to Smith. I paste on a smile. “How do I look?”
His nostrils flare, making him look like a bull. “Beautiful. Are you ready?”
I nod my head, then follow him down the hallway again.
“I hope you’re hungry! I wasn’t sure if you have already eaten at Bay Local yet, so I thought I’d pick something up from a different favorite of mine while I was grabbing your surprise this morning.”
“I could eat,” I say, though I think that’s a lie. My stomach is in knots.
The first thing I notice when he leads me into the sunroom is the golden net hanging from the ceiling, like fishing nets hanging from certain seafood restaurants. I immediately break out in a cold sweat, because I know that’s the net from my latest nightmare/memory. It was invisible in my dream, but I know it’s the same one. I stop dead in my steps, unable to walk into the room. Then I see the table set in the corner with aluminum foil to-go pans full of food.
The last thing I notice are the two people hog-tied on the floor in between the wicker love-seat and matching coffee table.
Eyes wide, I look at them. They’re young, clearly still in their teens. The boy has a trail of blood running from above his hairline down the side of his face, dripping onto an old t-shirt. The girl looks unharmed, but has started struggling against the plain hemp ropes as soon as she sees us.
Smith has turned around. “Do you like them?”
I try not to gag. This is my surprise? Oh my God, did he kidnap two kids for me?
“I planned to get you one, but when I saw this pair I had to get them both. They’re siblings,” he says. He’s gushing as if he just found them on the clearance rack and couldn’t believe the deal.
What am I supposed to do? The chances of my escaping, alone, are slim to none. Getting them out with me is going to be impossible.
The girl is making noise through her gag. Her love for her brother washes over me in waves. The boy is quietly staring at the floor. He’s so composed that it makes me sad. Like, this is just one more terrible thing to happen in an already terrible life. His sister makes eye contact with me, and I can see her determination to protect him, a determination that seeps into me.
I swallow, then step into the sunroom towards the two teens. The blood on the boy is tacky, but I want to make sure he doesn’t have a serious injury. The girl starts to fight her bonds in earnest when I get close to him. I don’t blame her.
“They’re beautiful Smith. That was s-so thoughtful.” I stutter through the lie. I have to be more convincing than that. “Diamonds in the rough. You know I love a good project.”
I look back at Smith. He’s smiling.
“This one has a little cut on his head.”
“His sister wouldn’t stop struggling earlier. I had to give her a little encouragement to be quiet.”
The need to vomit is back. He hit the brother to make the sister behave.
“Do we have anything to clean it up?” I ask, hoping my voice is neutral enough.
“That can wait until after breakfast. I don’t want the food to get too cold.”
He grabs me by the elbow and guides me to the table. I manage not to look at the two kids tied on the floor, but I can’t make myself eat.
“You don’t like it? I went all the way to the boardwalk to get this for you.”
“Sorry, I’m just…trying to figure out what to try first!”
It did look like Smith ordered the entire menu, so it was plausible. He chuckles. “You aren’t being weird about eating in front of me, are you? You women are so funny with that.”
Did he really just say that?
“Here,” he starts making a plate for me. “Eat. I promise I won’t watch,” he says, chuckling again.
I grab my fork and take a bite. It settles like lead in my stomach. I take another one, reminding myself that I need to regain my strength. I envision each bite as a piece of power filling me up. Soon, my plate is empty and my belly is full.
“It was good, right?” Smith says.
Honestly, I didn’t taste a thing while I was eating. “Delicious.”
Smith looks at his phone. “I need to make a few deliveries. I’ll only be gone for a few hours. Let me take you back to your room.”
“Do I get to bring my, er, presents with me? I don’t want to be alone all day.”
“Of course! That’s why I got them for you.”
Needs a New Plan
He leads me to the basement first, locking the deadbolt on our way down. The sound makes me flinch.
“Since I’ll be gone for the day, I won’t make you stay in the room, but you do need to stay down here.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Most of the day, but don’t worry, you’ll have company this time.”
Smith goes into the room for a minute and comes back with something in his hand. I take a step back as he gets closer. It’s the chain. I know he said taking it off wasn’t permanent, but I’m not prepared to be chained up again like an animal.
“April, don’t make this difficult. Look, I length
ened it so you can walk around. It’s not so bad.”
I try to think quickly. I don’t want the chain on. The idea makes my breakfast do a somersault in my stomach. I could run…straight into the padlocked door. Is there a way to get the key from him without being grabbed by him?
My hesitation has brought a little color to my giant captor. No, I won’t be able to get the key from him. I take a small step forward, mentally yelling at my guts that puking on him won’t make things better.
“Can we put it on my wrist instead? That way I won’t trip on it,” I ask. Let him think that’s why I hesitated.
“I didn’t even think of that. Of course we can. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”
Not being chained at all would make me feel more comfortable, but I bite my tongue and hold out my hand. He wraps the chain around my wrist and it warms briefly, clasping together, then cools.
Its coolness makes me shudder.
“There is a half bath down here. It’s that door right there. The chain will reach everything down here except the stairwell. And see? There’s a mini fridge with drinks and some things to eat. You’ll be comfortable, and it will give you the chance to think about how you want to decorate it, really make it yours.”
I don’t say anything. If I open my mouth, chunks might come out instead of words.
“You’re upset with me. That’s all right, my love. I know you have a bit of a short temper, and these accommodations aren’t quite up to par. I didn’t plan for you to be here yet. It will be great, you’ll see. I’ll go get your succulents; that should cheer you up.”
I watch him walk up the stairs and force myself to take a few deep breaths. It does nothing to calm me. Should I have tried to fight him? I don’t know. A few minutes later I hear the latch on the door unlock again. There’s muffled grunting, and when he appears down the stairwell, I see why. He’s dragging the girl, who’s fighting. The boy is over his shoulder. I watch as he semi-throws the girl a few feet away from him. I wonder if he’ll chain the kids. At least he’ll be gone for the day and can’t hurt them if he isn’t here.