by Amber Lacie
Once I was dressed, I reached into the bathroom grabbing the comb off the counter. Ben turned around watching me as I walked towards the empty bed while trying to work at the remaining knots left in my hair. The weight of my body sank down into the mattress as I folded my legs beneath me in defeat. No matter how hard I tried, ridding my hair of the months’ worth of knots seemed pointless. Moments later, the bed dipped beside me as Ben sat down taking the comb from my hands. We sat in silence as he began to slowly run the comb through the ends of my hair. By the time he was finished, I was so relaxed I barely registered what was going on around me. My eyes had grown heavier with each passing minute. The next thing I knew, Ben was tucking me into bed, pulling the covers up over my shoulders.
Leaning down over me, the hairs on my arm stood on end once again. My breath held, I waited to see what his next move would be.
“Sleep,” he whispered softly. It was the only word he uttered and I easily obeyed. Surrounded by danger, I knew I wasn’t safe, yet I welcomed the darkness anyway.
I awoke the next day to an empty room, feeling rested. On the dresser, I found a small, white paper bag with a burger, some cold fries, and a soft drink sitting next to it. I didn’t care if it was meant for me or not, I scarfed it down as quickly as possible, nearly choking on it. The red numbers on the large clock resting on the nightstand between the beds were flashing twelve o’clock. Glancing at the window, I could see the bright sunlight sneaking in around the edges of the curtains. Just as I finished the last bite of burger, the door to the motel room opened.
“Good, you’re eating,” Ben said. Stepping into the room, his tall, lean frame cast a shadow in front of the beds. His hair short and messy, he looked unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept in days. I also noticed he was dry.
“You changed.”
“Had to. Can’t ride in wet clothes.”
Nodding my head as though that explained everything, I looked around the room. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A little over a day. In fact, I let you sleep too long. We need to go.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, watching him gather the clothes that were strewn around the room before tossing them into a black backpack he was holding in his other hand. The only response he gave me was a blank stare. It was obvious this was a need to know basis and I didn’t need to know. The silence was deafening, so I asked another question, in hopes of figuring out what the plan was. “What time is it?”
“Just after one. I grabbed some sandals for you at the gas station. They might be a bit big, but they should work until we get where we’re going. After that, we’ll get you sorted with everything you’ll need. Come on, Puppet, it’s time to go.”
There it is again––the nickname he decided to bestow on me. I was no puppet, and yet, he was pulling my imaginary strings, dictating where I must go and what I must do. I hated it.
Once he had everything he needed, I followed him outside to his waiting bike just outside the door. The sun was blinding compared to the darkness of the motel room. To my shock, two black helmets sat on the seat. Where did the second helmet come from? As if reading my mind, Ben looked over at the bike and back towards me. “I don’t ride without one.”
“But, earlier—”
“Earlier was different, and it won’t happen again.” His words circled the air, feeling heavy on my shoulders. There seemed to be so much to what little he did say. It didn’t matter though. Holding my tongue, I watched as he secured his pack before straddling the sleek black motorcycle. Nervously tucking my hair behind my ear, I pulled the black helmet over my head. Climbing on, I wrapped my arms around Ben’s waist and we were off. One thing was for sure, sandals and sweats weren’t the ideal outfit to wear while the wind rushed passed us. Sadly, I had no other choice.
After a few turns we were quickly cruising down the highway. Thirty minutes must have passed before I heard a voice speaking in my ear. “It’s not safe to stop. I already put us at risk by waiting a day. Just hold on.” Nodding as if he could see me, my arms tightened around his warm body.
I had learned three things during that long ride. One, I wasn’t allowed to ask about where he was taking me. Two, helmets came with a speaker or something in them, which was kind of cool. It almost felt like I was in an action movie. And three, don’t trust anyone––not even him.
Nothing is ever what it seems.
In the last week I had gone from one room with brick walls to another. Having never been in this situation, I had no idea what to expect. The confines of the house that Saint had me under lock and key were nothing compared to where Ben was keeping me. The size of the apartment was at least double the square space, if not more. There was a large eat-in kitchen, which gradually turned into a living area. A large flat screen television hung on a wide brick wall. Each room, from what I had been able to see, was fitted with a white radiator for heat. The bright, clean color of the walls stuck out against the brick walls and dark wood paneling. It was clean. It was warm. And I was still locked away.
We had already been at the apartment for two days. After our arrival it had taken me a good hour to recreate the apartment in my head by memory. I stored every possible detail I could think of. After that hour had passed, I was left alone with my thoughts. I had grown used to the silence at the house and so far, it seemed the apartment would be no different. I could hear him moving around outside my room. Sometimes I could even hear him talking to someone. Other times, I heard the television. What I had noticed is that no one seemed to come and go, not even him.
I knew there were at least two other rooms, besides mine. I know because I was warned not to enter either of them. I was permitted to leave my room to use the bathroom, get a drink of water, or food, if it wasn’t already brought to me. Other than that, I was to remain locked in my room, tucked away at the end of the hallway. Tucked away in the opposite corner from where I was standing sat a twin-size bed. If front of me, directly across from the door, was a small, thick paned window. I wasn’t sure how to open it, or if it even opened at all. At the foot of the bed was a dresser, pressed squarely against the wall, filling what little remaining space the room had. Next to the window was a small closet, which held two sweaters, a handful of shirts, three pairs of jeans, a small box holding clean panties and bras, two pairs of shoes, and a hairbrush that Ben had gotten for me.
Apparently, he wasn’t a fan of the sweats I had to wear during our drive to the apartment, so once he had me upstairs and, in my room, he went online and started ordering some clothes. After unpacking the last of the brown boxes marked with a checkmark that resembled a smile on the side of it, I left out a couple pieces to wear. The clothes looked like they would fit, but the only way to find out was to try them on.
Deciding to go sans bra, since no one would see me anyway, I pulled a light pink t-shirt over my head. Slipping into a pair of black cotton panties, I relished in the barrier it provided me with. It felt as though there was now a wall of protection around me. After grabbing a pair of jeans, and jumping around for a few seconds, I finally managed to slip them up my hips. They fit, but they were tight as fuck. How do people breathe in jeans like this? Thankfully, the fabric was forgiving and stretched with my movements.
Once I was dressed, I noticed a woman staring back at me from the mirror on the dresser. It was my reflection, but she didn’t look like me. The color had finally begun to return to her cheeks, and she was clean, but her eyes were still sunken in. Hair pulled over her shoulder to one side, light freckles spotted her nose and cheeks. She looked normal. Staring at her, I couldn’t even recognize myself. She didn’t resemble anything I felt. The girl staring back at me looked strong. Not broken and damaged.
Staring back at the reflection of the girl in the mirror, the nerves of steel I once had when I stood up to Saint or Roscoe began to cement their roots once again. My mind began to refuse the acceptance I had finally come to terms with. I didn’t want to be a prisoner in a brick compound, only let out to
use the bathroom. I wanted to be free.
My rebellion had begun.
Opening my bedroom door, I looked down the hallway. Not a soul in sight.
As I walked, making my way towards the living room, I could just make out the sound of a male’s voice speaking loudly, followed by some canned laughter. The television must be on, I thought to myself.
Stepping into the living room, my heart slammed in my chest as I stared down at Ben. He was sleeping on his stomach, his long shirtless frame stretched the length of the couch with one foot hanging over the edge, the other on the floor. A pair of black sweats covered his legs and a blanket was lying on the floor beside him in a heap. Stepping closer to him, I hesitantly made my way farther into the room. As I got closer, I could just begin to make out a tattoo on his side and another, which started at his wrist and wound up his arm in intricate lines. Though, what stilled my heart was the word ‘Broken’ inked onto his shoulder in an elegant script.
Broken, I thought to myself in curiosity. I know exactly how that feels.
Just then, he mumbled something incoherent. Panicked, I took a step back, so as not to disturb him. Walking around the couch, I moseyed my way into the kitchen, making myself a glass of ice-cold water. I was enjoying the water running down my throat when someone, or something, began slamming against the front door, rattling the locks. Fear engulfed me. Had they come for me? Did they know I was here? Quickly setting down my glass, I ran towards the couch. However, before I could reach the living room, the pounding sounded again, this time waking Ben.
“I will fucking kill whoever is at the door,” Ben shouted, pulling a knife out from beneath the pillow where he was resting his head. My eyes flashed to the blade and instinctively, I shrank against the wall.
“You,” he said, pointing the blade in my direction. “What the fuck are you doing out?”
I couldn’t speak. The pounding continued. Desperately trying to shut out the noise, I covered my ears with my hands.
“God damn it. Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Ben said, pressing a finger to his lips in a silencing motion.
Shaking, I ran through the mental map I had created of the apartment in my head. The only window I knew of, not in the room I was currently standing, was mine. There was no way out. I could hide, but that would be useless.
I watched as Ben walked towards the door, holding the blade close to his side. Sliding a metal plate to the side, he stared into the peep-hole. “Motherfucker,” he muttered, throwing the knife from his hand into the door of one of the kitchen cabinets. A small yelp fell from my lips. I tried to quickly catch it, but it was too late. Glancing over his shoulder, Ben’s black eyes pierced my very soul. “Room.”
Not wasting another moment, I stood, tripping over my feet as I ran down the hallway toward my room. Thinking quickly, I caught myself with a hand against the wall. Slamming the door shut behind me, I crawled under the bed. My entire body was shaking as tears stung my eyes. So much for being strong.
Ben’s deep voice carried down the hallway, followed by one I recognized immediately. Jim. My breathing slowed as I crawled out from my hiding spot. My sanity was slipping away. The girl in the mirror stared back at me once more. This time, however, she looked broken––just like me. I think I liked her better the other way. When she was strong.
By the time my heart rate had slowed to a normal pace, someone was gently knocking on my door.
“Hey, girlie, you in there?” Jim’s soft voice made me smile. The door slowly opened, and he stepped into my room, engulfing the doorway. “It’s nice to see you all cleaned up. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked kindly.
“Um––” My voice sounded meek. I wanted so much to be the girl that had stepped out of my room earlier, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Last night––I ate some fruit. I haven’t been hungry. Just sleepy.” Nodding his head, he ran his fingers along the side of his neck, tracing one of his many tattoos. “I’m thinking you need more than fruit. Maybe a different view, while we’re at it. I can’t imagine this room being that appealing.”
“It’s fine.”
“Nah, none of this is fine. If I gotta bash his head in myself, I’ll make sure this all gets sorted. Benny isn’t a bad guy.”
“Are you sure, ‘cause I don’t understand why I’m here? At the house I knew my place, my role––here, he doesn’t seem to want any of that, let alone want me here. I just want to go, forget any of this ever happened. That day on the pier I was so hungry, and the food was just there, ya’ know. I think, maybe, if I didn’t steal it…if I would’ve just kept walking––maybe I would have been alright. But now, I just feel them all over me, so many hands pulling at me and doing things. All because I didn’t want to feel so hungry anymore—” Nervous word vomit exploded from my mouth. Thankfully, he cut me off mid-rant.
“Whoa. I was not prepared for that onslaught of nightmares. I ain’t one for fixing the bad shit. That’s his job,” he nodded behind him. “I just wanted to know if you were hungry. I ain’t eaten today and I thought I’d get a burger. Want one?”
A burger. The simplistic meal sounded like heaven. “I would love one.”
“Great. Come on out to the kitchen and write what you want down. I’ll grab us some grub and then we can just chill for the night.”
“Okay.”
Stepping back into the hallway, he allowed me to pass him. Slipping my hands into my pockets, I walked back into the kitchen, my head down. On the counter, there was a yellow pad of paper. The only problem was that Ben was still holding the pen.
“What does she need?” he asked, looking past me, towards Jim.
“You can’t keep her locked up like that, man. She’s gotta eat and stuff.”
“It’s the ‘and stuff’ that I’m worried about. This wasn’t my grand idea, Jim. This is all on you.” His eyes darted towards me as he clenched his jaw. If I am so unwelcome, then why did he go to the trouble of bringing me here? Why did he take care of me the other night in the shower? What was the point of it all? I was so confused.
“She’s gotta eat, Ben.”
“And does she have to do that out here?” he snapped.
Fuck this. I am done being treated as a possession. I am a fucking person for fucks sake. “She is standing right fucking here. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. All I want is some food. Maybe a chance to look out a window, other than the one in my room,” I spat.
“See? She does have a bite. I told you you’d like her.” Jim walked around me and grabbed the pen from Ben. Pushing both the pen and paper towards me, I quickly wrote down what I wanted to eat. Asking for fries may have pushed the envelope a little far, so I just wrote down what I wanted on my burger, and a drink. Handing the pad of paper to Jim, I cast my eyes towards the floor.
“And yet she can’t look you in the eye.” Ben’s raspy voice grated on my skin. My stomach sank at the feeling it gave me. I wasn’t turned away from him at all, in fact, all I wanted to do was prove him wrong. He made me feel defiant.
Catching his eyes with mine, I replied, “No, it’s you I don’t want to face.” Reaching my hand out, I softly placed it on Jim’s forearm. “Thanks.” He gave me a nod of his head and I headed back towards the room I was being held hostage.
“Oh, for fucks sake!” he shouted. “Fine. Alright. Fucking fine, you can stay out here if you want.”
Halting in my tracks, I turned my head slightly to face to him. Rage rolled off of him in waves. It was obvious that he hated being manipulated, but I had nothing to do with that. I assumed Jim was running this game, but by all appearances, Ben was fighting it every step of the way.
Their relationship confused me. At first, I thought Ben was in charge, but now––I’m not so sure. Maybe they were equals, or maybe Ben only listened to Jim. Either way, I made a mental note to stay on Jim’s good side.
Jim gave me a wink as he opened the door. “Rumor has it, she had a name once. Maybe you should work on that. You can’t keep her hidden
forever, Ben. One side or another is going to find out. Be smart.” The door closed behind him and I was left to once again try and sort through the mess I had found myself in.
With Saint, I knew what he wanted, and I knew why I was there––there was a debt to be paid. The more I fought back, the bigger my debt grew. With Ben, there was no rhyme or reason to his rules. He simply spoke demands, and I reacted to them. It was the only part of this whole situation that I understood.
“Sit,” he ordered. Turning quickly on my heel, I found myself a spot on the end of the couch. The feeling of being on the edge of a cliff didn’t fade as I sank down into it. “I think it’s best if I explain some things a bit better.”
I blinked, waiting for him to continue.
“Jim works for me. He’s the one that found you. Where you were before, it wasn’t right. If Ox had known, he would’ve ended that shit immediately. You weren’t making him any money by being there. If anything, you were more of a risk. Saint and his men had overstayed their welcome and I was sent there to close up shop.”
“So, what does that make me?” I asked, curious.
He paced the room in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck. “That makes you a liability. A risk.” He paused in front of me for a moment before adding, “One I’m stupid enough to take. There are people out there worse than Saint, worse than me. They’ll do things to you that would make Satan himself cringe. In order to keep you safe, I need you to stay quiet, and I need you to stay here––with me.”
Blood rushed against my eardrums making the words he was saying hard to make out. All I understood was that I was a risk. “I just want it to be over,” I whispered.