The room is dimly lit. There is a large bed in the center, a long, dark dresser along the far wall, an armchair in the corner and two doors that I can only assume are closets. It’s the complete opposite of the room I was previously in. For that, a part of me can’t help but feel grateful that Walker, or whatever his name really is, suggested I come here rather than back to that rat hole I was being held in.
Of course I have no idea what’s in store for me here either. I have a sinking feeling I might come to regret my momentary relief.
“Mr. Walker will be here shortly. Until then you are to kneel there with your head down and wait for him.” Johnson points to the far corner of the room. “Face the wall and do not move until he instructs you to do so.” His tone is void of any emotion whatsoever, and I can’t help but wonder how a person becomes so cold.
A chill runs through me at the thought.
I slowly make my way toward the corner, relief flooding through me when he finally releases his hold on me after I’ve settled onto my knees. I lower my head, listening to each step Johnson takes as he backs out of the room, finally closing the door behind him.
The moment he’s gone and I hear the lock click into place, I search frantically for an escape. Windows? Where are the windows? I spin my head, desperation flooding through me. How can there be no windows?
Slumping forward, I hold my hand to my mouth and let out a muffled sob. How did this happen? Yesterday I was just a normal eighteen-year-old girl preparing to start my life and now… now I’m being held against my will where I will be trained to do God knows what and then sold into some kind of servitude.
He said this was because of my father; that my father owed him something, but I barely know the man. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I actually saw his face. Does he know they took me? That I am being held here against my will to settle a debt he owes? Would he even care? If it means he’s off the hook I doubt it.
No one is looking for me. No one probably even knows I’m gone. The tears come harder at the thought. For the first time since my mother passed away last year, I’m glad that she’s not here. I’m glad she’s not alive to see this. I can’t imagine what this would have done to her; having her only daughter disappear.
I swallow down the acid that rises into my throat. Panic grips my chest, and I struggle to find a real breath. At least when I was in that room with those men nothing seemed real. Now that I’m alone, the true reality of this situation seems to be settling in.
This is what fear feels like.
It’s nothing like watching a scary movie or having someone jump out at you at a haunted house. That’s not being scared, not really. This is what it means to be truly terrified. And right now the uncertainty of what’s to come is almost worse than anything else they could do to me.
I hear the door open, the light squeak pulls me from my numb state. I don’t move, despite the fact that my legs have been protesting my current position for at least an hour now.
Shivers run up my back as I hear the door close and the lock slide into place. I tense, not sure what to expect, jumping when a thin blanket settles down over my bare shoulders.
“It’s freezing in here.” The man’s smooth voice comes just moments before I feel him crouch down behind me.
I jump when his hand brushes the back of my neck as he adjusts the blanket around me.
“You don’t have to be scared of me.” His voice is soft, gentle even. “Come on.” He helps me stand, my legs barely strong enough to support my weight as he pulls me to my feet.
I want to ask him who he is, where I am, what he plans to do with me, but I stay silent. I’m fearful that his kindness is some sort of sick joke and any minute the man I expect him to be will appear.
I meet his gaze with hesitant eyes as he slowly leads me to the bed, his arm tucked around my waist. “Sit,” he instructs, turning away from me the second the mattress is beneath me.
He crosses the room, pushing open the door on the far wall. When he flips on the light I realize it’s a bathroom. He disappears inside for several long seconds before reentering the room.
“I laid a towel out for you on the sink. You should find everything you need in the shower. There’s also a robe for you to wear. I don’t have any other clothing for you right now, but I will see if I can find you something.” He crosses back toward me.
He pulls a knife from his back pocket and then takes my hands, running the blade across the rope. He works it back and forth along the thick material until it finally snaps. He unwinds the rope from my wrists, releasing me the moment the restraint falls away.
Tossing the rope to the side, he slides the knife into his pocket. He looks up, his gaze meeting mine for the briefest moment. There’s something in his eyes, something I can’t quite describe. I feel almost safe with him, as weird as that is. I feel like I belong to him, which is even weirder, like somehow the claim he staked on me downstairs was fact and not him simply calling dibs.
Without another word he turns, quickly exiting the room. I hear the lock click into place, and once again I’m alone.
I don’t remember falling asleep. All I know is when my eyes slowly flutter open, I can still feel the dampness of my long brown hair splayed out on the pillow behind me.
I stretch, blinking rapidly as my surroundings start to unfold around me. I panic when I spot Walker standing just inches from the bed, his eyes locked on mine. Even in the dim lighting of the room the electric of their blue cuts through.
I quickly scurry up the mattress, pressing my back against the headboard before hugging my knees tightly against my body.
“I told you already, you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he says, his voice low.
“Would you be afraid of you?” I question, watching a slow smile pull up the corners of his mouth.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, and despite my current situation I can’t help but notice how incredibly handsome he is.
“I guess I probably would be,” he agrees, shaking his head slowly back and forth before turning.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, retrieving what appears to be a sandwich wrapped in a napkin and a small bowl of fruit from the dresser behind him. “I hope you’re okay with peanut butter,” he adds, extending the food toward me.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m starving. At this point I think I would eat just about anything. I immediately nod, hesitantly reaching out to take the food. The moment it’s in my hands, I settle back against the headboard again, this time stretching my legs out in front of myself.
“Thank you.” My voice comes out barely a whisper.
I slowly unwrap the sandwich and raise it to my lips, feeling Walker’s eyes on me as I do. I try to ignore the way my skin tingles under his gaze and focus on the fact that for the first time in what I would guess is a couple of days, I’m actually getting to eat.
The moment the sandwich touches my tongue I become greedy, my body desperate for more. I never knew a peanut butter and jelly sandwich could taste so good. I take two more large bites, swallowing them down without even fully chewing before looking back up.
Walker sets a bottle of water on the nightstand beside me without meeting my gaze. I take another large bite when he turns, crossing the room. He settles down into the armchair that sits in the corner before looking back in my direction.
“What is this place?” I finally get the courage to ask after I’ve eaten the entirety of the sandwich and nearly all of the fruit.
“I can’t tell you that,” he sighs, looking up at the ceiling.
“Why am I here?” I try a different angle.
“Because your father failed to pay a debt he owes.” His voice remains even and emotionless.
“A debt to whom, Mr. Jones?”
“Jones is the face, but he’s not the one you need to concern yourself with.” He finally meets my gaze.
“Then who is?” I don’t look away from his eyes this time, desperate for answer
s.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Then what can you tell me?” I swallow down the frustration in my voice, not wanting to push my luck.
“Depends on what you want to know.” His eyes are still locked firmly on mine, and I can’t help but feel small under his gaze.
“What’s your name?” I question.
“Walker.”
“What’s your real name?” I ask, getting the feeling that’s just what they call him.
His eyes widen slightly but he shakes his head, quickly recovering without me being able to figure out the cause of his momentary alarm.
“What’s going to happen to me, Walker?” I decide to focus on the issue in front of me rather than trying to figure this man out.
“You’ll be trained and then sold.” The thought makes my stomach curl, and I have to fight to keep the peanut butter sandwich from finding its way back up.
“Train me for what, to be a slave?” I take a long gulp of water, suddenly so parched I feel like my throat is made of sandpaper.
“Of sorts.” His eyes leave mine and a long silence stretches between us.
“A sex slave.” The words fall from my lips without me ever meaning to speak them.
“Yes.” His gaze comes back to me.
“And you’re going to train me?” I can’t fight the shake in my voice.
“It’s my job to break you. To beat you down until the only thing you know is how to serve your master, how to please him in every way he desires. Once you’re sold your body no longer belongs to you, it belongs to the man who owns you.” A shiver runs up my spine at his words. “Right now you belong to me,” he adds.
“Does that mean you’re going to force me to have sex with you?” I don’t know why I can’t control the words that keep falling from my lips. It’s like there is some sort of disconnection from my brain to my mouth.
“Had one of the other men taken you, I promise that part would have already taken place several times by now,” he states bitterly.
“Thank you.” I drop my gaze, feeling oddly guilty for my statement. “For not letting them take me,” I add.
“Don’t thank me yet.” He flicks his eyes away as he pushes out of the chair to stand. “I’ll be back later,” he states, quickly exiting the room without looking in my direction again.
It’s been two days. I don’t know how I know that for sure. I can only guess based on when Walker leaves and when he returns. When he sleeps and when he brings me food. He’s barely spoken to me since that first night and while I’m grateful he hasn’t hurt me, I also wish he would just get on with whatever his plan is.
The anticipation of not knowing what to expect is almost worse than anything he could physically do to me.
I jump slightly when the lock snaps and the door squeaks open. I keep my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. The room is almost pitch black so I don’t have to try hard. I focus on keeping my breathing even and my body still.
I hear Walker cross the room. He lets out a loud exhale and then slouches down into the chair in the corner. I can tell because of the way the springs creak under his weight.
The silence that filters through the room is almost deafening. I need something, anything, to fill the space so that I can hear more than my heart thudding against my ribcage.
“When are you going to start training me?” The words are out before I can take them back.
There’s a long pause, a moment that seems to stretch on forever before his smooth voice finally reaches my ears.
“Are you so eager to give your body to a complete stranger?” His words seem mildly irritated which confuses me.
“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice just above a whisper.
“I’ve already told you, you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
“It’s not you I’m afraid of, it’s them,” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this, any of this. I want to go home. I want to move to Arizona to live with my aunt Joey and start college there this fall. I want to live the life I was supposed to have.” I fight back the lump of emotion that works its way into my throat.
I was so close. So close to escaping New York, the pain of my past, my deadbeat father, the alcoholic foster mom I’ve been forced to live with for the past few months. I had one foot out the door, and now everything I was hopeful for seems to have slipped right through my fingers.
I should have moved to Arizona to live with my aunt right after my mom died, but I couldn’t bear to leave the city that my mother loved so much. I knew there was nothing left here, but I needed some time to let it all go. That is a decision I’m realizing will be the one I come to regret above all others.
“I don’t want my first time to be with…” I start but my words fall off.
Oh god…
“Wait, are you a virgin?” Walker’s voice goes hard as he shifts in the chair.
“Yes.” I’m embarrassed by my confession, but I know it would only be a matter of time before he found out anyway.
“Shit,” he grinds out as the chair squeaks again. “Fuck.”
I wish I could see his reaction.
Silence falls over us again and remains there for several long moments. I stare up at the ceiling, my eyes met with nothing but the darkness that surrounds me.
“Walker?” I finally question when the tension becomes almost too much to bear.
I feel like I might suffocate if one of us doesn’t speak.
“Go back to sleep, Chloe.” His voice is hard as he pushes out of the chair, the legs skidding roughly across the wood floor beneath it.
He takes three long steps and then rips open the door, disappearing into the dimly lit hallway without another word.
I sink deeper into the mattress, curling my body into a ball. I try to fight the emotion, push it down and be strong but it’s no use. Within seconds a fresh batch of tears is flowing down my cheeks.
The days have been long and the nights even longer. It’s been less than a week, but already I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in years.
I stare back at my reflection in the mirror, my long brown hair twisted into a white bath towel on top of my head. I feel like I should look different, changed, but I still see the same eighteen-year-old pale faced girl staring back at me. My green eyes are tired, the nights becoming more restless with each day that passes. But other than that there are no signs of my incarceration. No injuries, no markings, nothing.
I know this is one hundred percent because of Walker. The thought of how different my captivity would be had he not volunteered to take me makes me shudder in fear. I shake the thought away, my stomach clenching tightly.
“Don’t torture yourself, Chloe,” I whisper to my reflection.
Taking one more hard look at myself, I push away from the sink and exit the bathroom. I jump slightly when I realize that Walker is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. He meets my gaze the moment I step into the room.
I tug at the long shirt he brought me yesterday, thankful to have real clothes on for the first time in days but also wishing I had more than just panties to cover my bottom half. Luckily the shirt hangs almost to my knees so I have some coverage.
“Hi.” The word sounds more like a mouse’s squeak than an actual human voice.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, standing as I approach.
I stop just shy of the edge of the bed. It’s the first time I can remember ever being so close to him. With less than two feet separating us, it’s clear to see that he towers a good foot over me. You would think this would scare me, given how small I feel next to him, but it doesn’t. In some weird way it makes me feel safer.
“I’m okay.” I finally manage to speak after a long pause, passing him as I slide down onto the opposite side of the mattress.
He watches me intently as he reclaims his seat, his eyes breaking away from my face. I catch them trailing down my inner thigh for the briefest moment before they meet my gaze again. There’s somethi
ng in his stare, something that makes my stomach clench in an entirely different way. It’s enough to cause my breath to catch in my throat as I scramble to pull the shirt down lower.
I wish I knew how to do this, how to conduct myself. I feel so awkward and unsure of every move I make. I think part of it has to do with the situation, but more than anything I think it has to do with Walker himself.
“I have a plan.” He finally breaks the drawn out silence.
“A plan?” I question, unsure as to what he means.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” His words send my heart galloping inside my chest. It’s the first time since I arrived here that I feel even a glimmer of hope.
“How?” I manage to croak through my state of shock.
“I can’t give you any details yet. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” he asks, his eyes softening as they stare back at me.
“I think so,” I admit, finding it difficult to grasp just how much I actually do trust him.
He’s had more than enough opportunity to have his way with me, but he has remained nothing but a gentleman. He makes sure I’m fed and that I have everything I need, all the while never laying a single hand on me.
“John Cochran, Jones’ boss, will be in town two weeks from now. He’s making the trip for multiple reasons, the most important being you.”
“Me?” The word catches in my throat.
“Jones told him of your arrival and our training. Cochran is eager to meet the woman that Jones claims is a gold mine.”
“Gold mine?” I gape, confused why anyone would think of me that way.
“You’re quite beautiful, Chloe,” he admits, tension filling his gaze. “And pure. Much different than a lot of the women that filter through this place. Even a man like Jones can see the difference.”
“What does this Cochran guy want from me?” I bite down on my bottom lip, already knowing the answer to my own question.
“Instead of selling you, he will take you as his own.” He pauses, looking troubled.
“What is it?”
“The last two women that Cochran has taken have never been seen or heard from again. I don’t know what he does with them when he’s done, but it’s a fate I’ll do anything to protect you from.”
Love, Lies, & Crime: Anthology Page 41