Uncovering You 2: Submission

by Scarlett Edwards

  There is no sign of Charles.

  “Hello?” I call out. After Rose’s warning, I’ve given little thought to the cook, but now seems like a good time to at least thank him. “Is anyone there?”

  Silence.

  Frowning, I sit down at the table, and discover another note.

  Lilly,

  I am pleased with your behavior thus far.

  - J.S.

  A floorboard creaks behind me. I whip my head around.

  There’s nobody there.

  I take a few deep breaths to slow my racing heart. How can Stonehart be “pleased” with my behavior if he’s on a business trip? Rose pointed out the cameras for me, but surely Stonehart has more important matters to attend to than watching me.

  Then again… I look at the note more closely. It’s in the same blue ink as all the others have been. This isn’t a message he faxed in.

  The obvious answer is that he wrote it before he left and asked Charles to give it to me. Or, maybe he wrote two—one saying he’s pleased, the other displeased—and depending on what Rose relayed, had Charles give me the appropriate one.

  That makes the most sense. It also means that I passed whatever test Rose put me through. For a forgotten moment, I gloat in that feeling, pleased that I have done something right…

  I come to myself with a violent shudder. I am not here to be pleased that I have made Stonehart happy. At least, not intrinsically! It’s all supposed to be an act.

  Except… what happens when the act becomes reality?

  Hunger gone, I push my food aside and stand up. Stonehart made mention of his office in the note this morning. Rose did not point it out to me during our tour. It may have been a simple oversight on her part. Yet I know that Stonehart’s office is the one place in this whole mansion where I might find something that might help my quest.

  I consult the blueprint of the estate I have built in my head. It’s split into two massive wings, and the entrance foyer. There are three levels: the basement, the main floor, and the top floor. The sunroom is part of the west wing, facing the Pacific Ocean.

  Out of nothing more than a desire to spend as little time as possible in that general area, I head east to renew my search.

  I walk down the wide hall all alone, my feet making the only sound against the cold floor. I pass one empty room after another. Oh, they might have some furniture in them, but they feel empty. Empty, abandoned, and neglected. Like nobody even lives here.

  My search on the main floor comes up empty. And I’ve already been in the basement—more than once. I walk back to the foyer and climb the stairs.

  I pause at the doorway of the master bedroom. It’s the largest room in the house, larger than even the sunroom. It’s constructed in a similar style. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the ocean. Rose kind of glazed over this room when we passed.

  I stop and peer in, thinking hard. Stonehart said I couldn’t go into his office. He made no mention of his bedroom.

  Unless he considers his bedroom his office, I think to myself. I don’t really believe that’s the case, but I still proceed with caution.

  I adjust the collar on my neck, give a quick prayer that I won’t activate it, and step inside.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and wait. When nothing happens, I open them slowly. A chill runs down my spine as I come to grips with the fact that I am in Stonehart’s bedroom. I am actually in his bedroom. I wonder how many other women have been here.

  I take a little step forward, still straining to feel the quick warning jolt that my collar gives me. My stomach heaves as I remember the agony that I experienced when I wandered over my boundary that first day.

  One step, wait. One step, wait. I proceed like that all the way to the glass wall. When I’m finally there, I exhale a sigh of relief. Stonehart didn’t lie: I really am allowed through any unlocked door.

  I look behind me at the bed. It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen, at least twice the size of a California King. Why does a single man need so much space?

  But everything about Stonehart is larger than life. He told me that he is a man who can, so he does. I guess all of this—the mansion, the bed, the vast display of wealth—is the manifestation of that.

  I walk up to the bed so close my shins almost touch it. I feel like I’m impinging on a sacred space. I reach down to feel the black covers, and then stop short.

  It really feels like I’m intruding. I do not want to do anything to make Stonehart mad.

  Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice movement against one wall. I spin toward it—but there’s nothing there.

  Strange, I think. It must be my nerves playing tricks on me. Feeling decidedly discomfited, I start for the door…

  And stop again when I feel a tiny breeze blow against my face. The windows are all closed. Where did the draft come from?

  I look back at the wall, and that’s when I see it: a tiny crack running vertically that looks suspiciously like the outline of a door.

  Looking around to make sure I’m still alone, I tiptoe toward it cautiously. When I’m standing right by it, I can see that yes, it definitely is a hidden doorway.

  Against my better judgment, and with my heart pounding hard, I push it forward.

  The door opens.

  The room is dark. The only thing illuminating it is a series of black television screens on the opposite wall. There are dozens of them, almost like an electronics shop. There is no video feed, but the screens are on nonetheless.

  An uncomfortable twisting sensation rises in my stomach. It is a lot like anxiety. I don’t think I’m supposed to be in this room.

  But, I am not breaking any of Stonehart’s rules. He said I could walk through any unlocked doors. This one was definitely not locked.

  Curiosity propels me forward. The first step I take is small. If I were really not allowed in here, the collar would alert me to it.

  I tense and wait for the warning shock. This must be the hundredth time I’ve expected it today. I still can’t fully come to grips with the fact that I am free to wander through Stonehart’s house.

  There is a desk in the center of the room that looks like a command console. I see a wireless keyboard and mouse combo on the lacquered surface. There is a chair behind it, facing the wall of screens.

  This is the first room that I think might actually contain something that will help me in my quest. There was no sign of electronics in other parts of the house.

  My heart lurches as I take my second step past the door. A terrifying thought comes to me: What if this is Stonehart’s office?

  He expressly forbade me from going inside. If this room is it, then I am disobeying a direct order.

  I look around me again. Maybe I should just back out and forget I even found it? That would be the safe bet…

  But, no, I can’t. It’s beyond time for some boldness. Stonehart wants me to be meek and broken. That only applies when he’s around. The threat of his presence should not stop me. I need to exercise some degree of audacity if I have any hope of remaining sane.

  I can’t very well protest when he’s around, but with him gone for three days, I can. I need to do something that proves to myself that I am not weak.

  Besides, why would he make this dark place his office? It’s small and cramped. There are no windows. It feels more like a cupboard than a real room, especially when compared to the extravagance of the rest of his house.

  That seals my decision. I did not get instructions not to touch anything.

  I walk over to the desk and lower myself to the chair. My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it will burst out of my chest. My hand shakes as I bring it over the mouse and push slightly.

  All of a sudden, images fill the screens. It takes me a moment to understand what I’m looking at. When I do, a sense of vertigo hits me.

  They are the feeds from all the security cameras in the house.

  I see the spots Rose pointed out to me: the foyer, the multiple hallways, the kitch
en. But, I also see some I didn’t know existed. There are six views of the sunroom. Four of my bathroom—including one right above the tub. I see my powder room from an unfamiliar angle. It takes me a moment to understand that the camera is behind the mirror.

  A feeling of nausea overtakes me. I know that Stonehart controls all aspects of my life here—but I didn’t know just how thoroughly positioned the cameras are. There’s not an inch of unmonitored space anywhere in my prison. That means this whole time—the entire time I’ve been here—Stonehart has been monitoring my every move.

  Revulsion and disgust rise in my chest. I push away from the desk. Not only have I been a prisoner, but I’ve also been on display, like some circus freak. My eyes dart to the screen showing my closet. He’s seen me changing. I look at the one depicting my pillar. He’s seen me crying. The displays shine menacingly at me. He’s seen everything.

  My head begins to spin. I need to get away. I start to stand, when a cold voice stops me.

  “Lilly.”

  I freeze on the spot. All my muscles tighten in dread.

  I turn around, dazed, like in a dream, and find Stonehart glowering at me from the doorway.

  I’m too shocked for words. What is he doing here? He’s supposed to be away!

  “Hello, Lilly,” he says. He looks me over. “It’s customary to respond to a greeting, you know.”

  “H-hello,” I stammer. Stonehart’s voice is calm, but his eyes betray the danger lurking under the surface.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid! I berate myself. I should never have come in here. Now that he’s caught me, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s going to do.

  Stonehart walks into the room. He advances on me. I’m too frightened to move. My feet seem rooted to the floor.

  His menacing scowl is too much for me to take. I avert my eyes and look straight down.

  He stops in front of me. I can see the toes of his shoes. Black, sleek loafers with thin leather laces. Regular shoes. Normal shoes. Not the shoes of a maniac—

  He touches my chin and lifts my head up. My breath hitches as I meet his eyes.

  He looks at me for a long moment. I want to recoil from his touch, but I’m afraid that will only make everything worse.

  “You’re trembling,” he observes. His voice is flat. “How come?”

  “I-I don’t know,” I say.

  He makes a displeased sound in his throat. “Don’t lie to me, Lilly.”

  I swallow and look away. He jerks my head back.

  “Are you scared?” he asks. I’d expect to find a hint of triumph in his voice, but I don’t. It’s as flat and emotionless as ever.

  His eyes, on the other hand… there is a storm brewing behind those eyes that rivals the strongest winter gale.

  My throat is too constricted for me to speak. I manage to nod, almost imperceptibly, while doing all I can to avoid meeting his gaze.

  “Why?” he asks. His fingers tighten on my chin. “No lies this time, Lilly.”

  “Y-y-your office,” I whimper. I sneak a peek around the room. “I’m in your office.”

  Stonehart nods. A bloodless smile curls his lips. It is almost a sneer. “And you know you are not permitted in my office, don’t you?”

  I close my eyes as a single tear leaks down. This is confirmation of my worst fear.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  Stonehart lets me go. I brace myself for the oncoming slap… but it never comes.

  Instead, I feel him turn away.

  I crack open one eye. Stonehart’s back is to me. His hands are clasped together. He is looking at the monitors.

  “You knew the rule about entering my office,” he says, “and yet, here you are.” He speaks without looking at me. “Please, Lilly, help me reconcile that disparity.”

  I open my other eye. I’m still shaking. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a frozen lake, right where the ice is thinnest. One wrong move, one improper word, and the cracks splintering beneath me will break.

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  This time, Stonehart definitely sneers. “You can’t,” he repeats. “In that case, you have every right to feel scared, don’t you?” He turns around. His cruel eyes shine in the dark. “Since you disobeyed my rules.”

  I try to swallow the enormous lump that’s taken up residence in my throat. I’m screwed. My fight-or-flight response has definitely gone haywire. I can’t fight or flight. I’m simply glued to the spot, utterly incapable of action.

  I remember Stonehart’s words, warning me of what would happen if I broke his rules:

  I will leave you in the dark.

  I can’t—I can’t go there again. I can’t spend any more time chained to the pillar with an invisible leash. I can’t face the oppressing darkness a second time. I can’t. I just can’t!

  “Of course,” Stonehart notes, turning on his heels and facing me with a victorious air, “There is one other possibility.”

  I just look at him, not daring to speak.

  “And that possibility, Lilly, is this.” He walks to me. I squeeze my eyes shut. He leans down, brushes my hair aside, and whispers in my ear, “This isn’t my office.”

  A great wave of relief crashes over me. It breaks the stiff fear holding me up. I collapse into the chair.

  Stonehart turns away and begins pacing in front of the screens. “Nevertheless,” he continues, “your guilty behavior tells me you would have gone behind my back and broken my rules when you thought I wasn’t present.”

  “I—no, Jeremy, I wouldn’t—” I stammer.

  “Quiet!” he snaps. “I don’t want to hear your moaning. The fact is: You knew you were forbidden from entering my office, and I find you here anyway, in what you thought was my office.” He glances at me. “That is almost as bad as the real thing.”

  I shake my head, but no words come out.

  “The question is,” he continues. “What am I going to do with you? I stuck to my word and gave you access to the estate. What do I find when I return? You, in the one place you thought I had forbidden you from entering!”

  “Jeremy, please,” I start. “I didn’t—I was only in here for a second. I didn’t think… I didn’t know…”

  “That I would return to find you here?” He wheels around. “No. I can see how you wouldn’t expect that. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Sneaking around while I’m gone?”

  “No, I promise. It wasn’t anything like that….”

  Stonehart cuts off my protest with a sharp gesture. “I think,” he says slowly, “that it’s time I tell you a little story, Lilly.”

  I inch back into the chair. He walks toward me and leans on the table. He crosses his legs and taps the desk with his fingers. “Where to start, where to start?” he says absently.

  I watch him cautiously, unnerved by the very real possibility of an unpredictable reaction.

  He spreads his arms and smiles all of a sudden. “I know!” he says, in an almost mocking manner. “Why don’t I start at the beginning?”

  I can hear the blood thundering in my ears as he looks at me, searching for a reply.

  “Okay,” I manage meekly.

  “At the beginning,” he repeats. “Well, this is how the story begins, Lilly. Once, many years ago, there was a young boy. He had two older brothers, and a powerful father. He was smart, sharp, and ambitious. But, he possessed one great flaw.” Stonehart’s eyes shine at me. “Would you like to guess what that flaw was?”

  I shake my head in response. “I-I don’t know.”

  “He was born last,” Stonehart says. His voice is soft and full of hate. “As the boy grew, he was passed over time and time again in favor of his brothers. Brothers who were slower, stupider, and less talented than he. But that made no difference to his father.”

  Stonehart pauses, waiting for my response. When none is forthcoming, he continues. “The boy’s hatred festered. Only his mother saw him as a real person. The boy grew up and became a man. But, still, his father looked on
ly upon his two brothers to continue the family legacy.”

  Stonehart’s voice becomes deadly. “Do you know what happened in the end?”

  I swallow and shake my head slightly. “What?”

  “The little boy rose above all and crushed those who doubted him.” Stonehart’s forearms flex as he cracks his knuckles. “He learned the thrill of domination. More than that. Of vengeance.” He underscores the word.

  A heavy silence falls between us. I can feel Stonehart’s eyes piercing into me. He’s waiting for my response.

  “What happened next?” I venture softly.

  “The greatest day of that boy’s life,” Stonehart says. “Years later, he met his father in the courtroom to conclude a hostile takeover of his company. The boy had changed his name. His father had no idea who was behind it. And when father and son met… well, the triumph the boy felt was worth every struggle of his life.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I whisper.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Stonehart asks. “It’s a warning, Lilly. You think I don’t know what you’re up to? You think I can’t guess what you were looking for in here? I told you the boy had grown to like vengeance. Well…” he pushes off the table and towers over me, “…traits that are reflected in oneself are easily recognizable in others.”

  He knows, a small voice whispers in the back of my mind. He knows I intend to deceive him. He knows I mean to fight.

  I suppress an uncomfortable shudder.

  “Now.” He turns away from me and leans over the desk. “Let’s see what you were in here for, shall we?” His voice contains a dangerous quality.

  “Jeremy, no,” I protest weakly. “We don’t have to do that…” He ignores me and starts tapping the keyboard.

  A few of the displays light up with what looks to be a surveillance program. Stonehart moves the mouse to the calendar and clicks a date in early October. “Now, how about this, hmm?”

  My gut tightens in anxiety as I see myself lying on the floor by the pillar. The screen is green from the camera’s night vision.

  Stonehart looks back at me over his shoulder. “Your first day,” he says to me.

  He fast-forwards until I start to stir. My stomach begins to writhe uncomfortably.