“Why?”
He kept his back to me as he made sure he’d secured the broken window well enough. “You’re staying at mine while this nutter is… proving difficult.”
“Proving difficult?” My mouth fell open with his choice of words. “He killed my friend and Dave…”
Anderson spun around, his dark, furious eyes homing in on me. “Your friend?”
Looking to the floor when shame overwhelmed me, I nodded. “Yes. Four weeks ago. She was found stabbed to death in my car boot. Luckily the police knew it had nothing to do with me, but…”
Rage flooded his face and he gritted his teeth so hard I thought he might fracture his jaw. “Then you’re definitely coming to stay with me.”
“But I can’t.” I sighed. “Can’t you see that? He’ll come after you too.”
He laughed, the sound making me flinch with the icy tone of it. “Good.”
He was so composed that for a fraction of a second I wondered if he was actually human. He appeared happy that I told him he would become a target, excitement dancing in the blue of his eyes.
“Do as you’re told. Go pack a bag.”
“Yes, boss.” I growled and turned to leave. I knew it was pointless arguing with him, yet if I was honest I was glad someone was finally looking out for me. The police didn’t seem bothered. They were concentrating on Trudy’s murder, but as far as my safety went I’d received no help from them whatsoever. Being alone in my house terrified me but there had been no other alternative. I couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel and the police hadn’t offered any accommodation.
“By the way.” I looked back and stiffened when he stood in the pantry doorway, his brow lifted in accusation as he stared at me. “You need any of this shit?”
Heat burned my cheeks. I wanted to answer yes, every part of me pleading with my mouth to say yes because I did need it, I needed it all. But instead I asked, “Do you have food?”
He simply nodded.
My mouth dried and my hands started to shake. “Then no.” Tears blurred my vision and I took a deep breath to steady the grief taking over my lungs before quickly walking away.
I just had to concentrate on the fact that my pantry was full of food. Anderson wasn’t going to lock me up and starve me. He had food. I would eat. I wouldn’t go hungry. If I needed food, then I could just go back home and eat.
Simple.
ANDERSON’S HOUSE WAS NOTHING LIKE I’d expected. I wasn’t really sure what I had expected really, but it proved to be rather cosy and clean. The layout of the house seemed a little haphazard and spread over three floors – including a basement that was out of bounds according to Anderson. Furniture was sparse and plain yet it appeared to be new and expensive. Each room was painted in the same muted and soft tone, the cream carpet identical throughout the whole house, but various paintings adorned the high walls and a variety of colourful rugs broke up the uniformity.
Anderson gave me a quick tour which ended in a snug but pleasant bedroom.
“This is you,” he stated, walking over to the curtains and pulling them closed. “Get some sleep. It’s still early and I have to go out. Red will stay with you but no one will hurt you here.”
He didn’t say any more and I nodded, apparently to myself when he walked out and closed the door quietly behind him. I stood soaking up the guest room. I was actually surprised he had a guest room. For some reason I hadn’t considered Anderson might have guests stay over, although I had no idea where that thought had come from.
Red curled up on the soft rug that lay beside the bed, a deep sigh resonating from her as she closed her eyes.
Feeling a little lost, I pulled some pyjamas from my bag and quickly changed, my eyes fixed on the door just in case Anderson decided to suddenly walk in. However, when I slid open a window to refresh the stale air in the room, Anderson tore out of the long driveway on a motorbike I hadn’t seen when I had pulled the car into his garage.
Nerves trickled in, anxiousness at being alone in a strange house not helping the uneasy feeling that was constantly on my mind due to the fact that some strange fuck wanted me dead.
Sighing when exhaustion started to set in, I sat on the bed and rubbed my tired eyes. So much had happened in the past few months and to be honest, now that Anderson had barged back into my life, I couldn’t see it getting any less turbulent. Although I was glad to have someone watching my back, I couldn’t help but feel things were about to become a whole lot worse.
It was dark when I woke from the nightmare that constantly haunted my nights. Disorientated and panicky, I shot upright, my hand pressed to my ribcage to calm the frenzy in my chest. The clock told me it was just after 2am although it felt like I had slept for hours.
Red sat upright, her head tilted to the side and her eyes fixed to me when I flicked on the bedside lamp. Sweat poured from my head and my hands shook as my belly rumbled in sympathy with my dream.
“Food,” I choked out as I grabbed some paper and a pen from my bag and quickly made my way downstairs, my feet stumbling in my rush to find Anderson’s stash.
His kitchen was small but modern, many brand new appliances sparkling from the thin strip of moonlight that streamed through the window. I spun around, hunting for a food cupboard, and after trying several and failing to find any food whatsoever, I started to panic. My lip was being gnawed under my teeth and my eyes darted everywhere as I rushed through a door into a tiny utility room. Another door at the back made my heart gallop and I pulled it open.
“Oh, thank God,” I wheezed, refuelling my lungs now I could take a breath. Yanking on the pull cord by the side of the door, the light bulb over my head provided a faint but sufficient light.
It took me over an hour to document every can, packet and box stacked upon the four shelves that filled the tiny pantry, the frantic beat of my heart stabilising after every scribbled line on my itinerary and every mouthful of anything I could stuff into my mouth.
Eventually when the usual hatred and shame pushed away the longing, I snatched up the various empty food packets I’d worked my way through and stuffed them into the kitchen bin as I made my way back through the house.
Not wanting to wake Anderson, if he had returned, I tiptoed along the hall, holding my breath as I stepped onto the bottom stair and prayed it didn’t creak. A noise caught my attention and I froze. For a long moment I struggled to breathe when the sound of a ragged moan sent a wave of fright through me. Surely he couldn’t have found me here at Anderson’s? No one knew I was here, unless we had been followed earlier, but I’d checked and rechecked my mirrors frequently on the drive over.
When the noise came again I stepped back and turned towards the sound. The basement door was ajar and I thought back to whether it had been open when I had come down. I would have noticed if it was, plus the fact that the hallway light was now on made me certain.
Peering up the stairs first to see if Red had heard it, I was disappointed to find I was still alone.
“Damn.”
Another groan, louder and longer was this time accompanied by a loud cry. My skin prickled as I slowly crept towards the door. Closing my eyes, I ran my tongue around my teeth and dug deep for the courage I needed. I was terrified something had happened to Anderson. When a scream and then another whimper of pain filtered up the concrete steps and gave me the determination I needed to face my fears, I blew out a long breath and started downwards.
Halfway down, the steps curved to the right and, strangely, I found a long thin cane leaning against the wall. Knowing it wasn’t much but the best I was going to get, I wrapped my fingers around it and carried on. It was dull, the lighting low and subdued the farther down I descended. My breathing grew ragged the deeper I got, my heart trying to keep up with the rush of adrenaline surging my system.
I should have shouted out, I should have, and when I looked back over the coming days, my mind slipping in and out of sanity, I wondered if it would have changed anything. Would it have changed my f
ate? Would it have stopped me from witnessing the horror that awaited me?
Would he have set me free if I hadn’t found him?
I would never know. But I should have known. I should have seen it.
Things had been set in motion before I even saw them charging full speed at me, the weight of a freight train slamming into me and stealing the breath from my lungs when I set my foot on the bottom step.
All I could smell was blood, the thick copper tang in the air making my nose twitch and my stomach twist.
All I could see was blood, the thick crimson substance coating every surface of Anderson’s dungeon.
All I could hear were the final whimpers of James Miller, my ex-boss, hanging from chains, his body beaten and broken beyond repair, his pale skin glazed with the infusion of his own blood, and his dead eyes seeking me out as if to warn me.
But his warning was too late.
Anderson spun around when the scream that had grown and matured in my gut ripped out of my mouth and my knees buckled, sending me to the concrete floor.
I wasn’t sure if it was by Anderson’s own hand or the smack of my head on the ground that sent me into the void of nothing but either way, I was grateful.
FOR THE FOLLOWING THREE DAYS I was in and out of consciousness, my mind incapable, or unwilling to deal with what was happening. I was vaguely aware of movement, smells and sounds, but the perception of my surroundings was nowhere near as great as the familiarity of the hunger in my belly and the panic in my chest that brought with it. Yet, bizarrely, there was an indistinct taste of chicken soup in my mouth.
The four days after those initial three days were a little more coherent. Even though my mind still refused to accept my imprisonment and clashed with my sanity, the sound of Anderson’s soft voice was confusing and the lightness of his touches even more so. His tender care and soothing words split my mind in two, making me think I had gone crazy. He affectionately bathed me, he attentively fed me, he lovingly whispered encouraging words yet he confined me to his basement. Although I wasn’t tied down he kept the door locked. I was free to move about the large area, yet I didn’t move from the soft bed I had woken on.
My eyes memorised the room that had become my home. It wasn’t cold but there was a cool touch to the walls and floor. The windowless brick walls were whitewashed and the floor consisted of huge slabs of severe grey concrete, apart from a small rug that ran the length of the bed. Chains hung from various points of the ceiling and walls. Sometimes the rattle of them swinging broke me from my restless oblivion. Along one wall a rack of whips, floggers and crops sat in uniform size categorisation.
A tiny shower room and toilet had been added to the basement and my new home was complete.
My mind played tricks on me during the first days, mocking me with memories I had refused to access for many years. Anderson’s face and voice morphed into my step-father’s, his cruel laugh and torments triggering panic-stricken fevered sweats and mumblings, the echo of my tummy aches and the chill within the marrow of my bones making my body shake with uncontrollable spasms.
I felt Anderson’s terror and confusion in these moments, the frantic softness to his voice and the gentle caress of his fingers as he stroked down the length of my hair strangely soothing me back into a numb void.
I wasn’t sure if Anderson had drugged me or whether fear generated the disjointed days and moments but I was thankful for it. I didn’t want to face it again. I didn’t want to accept it was happening to me again and I wasn’t sure that this time I would come out of it still the same person – if I came out of it at all.
The image of James’ dead, mutilated body plagued my infrequent moments of sleep, his dead eyes laughing at me and his twisted sneer claiming his final victory over me.
Anderson came and went. His regular visits to clean and feed me were just a blur in my head, a faint recognition of his presence making me attempt to talk to him. But, bizarrely, I found myself powerless against the restrictions running through me, like my words were locked up tight and my tongue couldn’t form what I was trying to communicate.
However, very slowly, over the next several days, the terrors and the bouts of disorientation subsided, but then came the periods of uncontrollable rage and stages of the worst depression I had ever known.
The first time Anderson came down to the basement when I was being plagued by the foulest fury started a chain of events that neither of us could have foreseen.
HEARING THE DOOR UNLOCK, I shot up. My legs wobbled after being laid out for so long, the unused muscles screaming in pain at the sudden movement. I had been out of it for so long, the terror of the past sending my mind into a chaotic insanity, but for some reason I had woken that morning with a wave of rage, both at Anderson and myself. I’d cowered to the situation again, the seven-year-old girl I’d once been coming back to haunt me.
His heavy footsteps on the stairs thudded through my tender head and my palms started to sweat, the crop I had hold of and hidden behind me slipping until I tightened my hold.
Taking a deep breath, I stood and waited.
He looked shocked to see me out of bed, his eyes widening on me but a large smile making his green irises dazzle in delight.
“You’re awake.”
“No, shit,” I hissed.
He stalled, his foot hovering halfway between the steps but the twitch of his lips told me he found my anger amusing. “And back with a vengeance, I see.”
“What the hell do you expect? What the fuck is going on? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The words tumbled from me in a rush of fury.
Running his tongue across his lips he took the final few steps down. “Well, to say yesterday you couldn’t string two words together, it seems you’re adamant to make up for that today.”
“Don’t mock me, Anderson. What… why are you doing this?”
Shrugging casually, he took a step closer to me. His eyes narrowed and he inhaled sharply. “I suggest you put the crop down, Kloe.”
My heartbeat stilled for a second but I pushed my shoulders back. “You want it? Then come and get it.”
“Feisty.” He laughed. “I think I like it.”
His amusement amplified my fury and I felt the flesh of my lip pop under the pressure of my teeth. “Just tell me why.”
“Why?” He pursed his lips, musing over the word. “There’s lots of reasons I can’t explain to you yet, but mainly because you owe me this.”
Surprise made my eyes widen. “I owe you nothing, Anderson.”
He laughed, his head tipping back but when he looked back at me his face hardened, his eyes darkening to granite and his jaw clenched tight. “Four years you owe me, Kloe. That’s one thousand, four hundred and sixty days of you that belongs to me. And believe me, you’re going to pay for every single one of those days. And I’m going to make you beg for every – single - minute of that payment.” He took a step closer to me but his words had rendered me frozen to the spot. “Until every drop of blood that keeps you alive is spilled into my hands. Every burning touch on your skin that belongs to me will torture your soul with intolerable lust. And every single little breath you owe me will make you suffer in agonising pain. In blood - in lust - and in pain.”
Fear curdled the blood that ran through my veins. My mouth was so dry I was unsure if I could speak. “I don’t understand.”
I’d lost all motor skills, my brain helpless against the terror that rolled over me and my limbs numb with shock.
Reaching behind me, my breath stilling at his closeness, Anderson gently took the long, thin whip from my hand. “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me, Kloe.”
I stared up at him. He was crazy.
“And you had no trouble in breaking that promise.”
“I couldn’t…” I stuttered. “I was fired, Anderson. Because I grew close to you. I didn’t have a choice…”
His finger pressed to my lips, shushing me. “We all have a choice, Kloe. You just made the wrong o
ne at the wrong time.”
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But we all have our little triggers, don’t we? Mine is broken promises, and yours… what is yours, Kloe?” He pulled a square of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “I appreciate your inventory of my food supply, by the way. Saves me shopping.”
Tears prickled my eyes, the situation that was becoming more and more clear turning my fury into horror. “So you’re going to hurt me because I made a choice to save you?”
He hadn’t expected that. His brow creased and he studied me closely, stepping even nearer to my trembling body. “Save me?”
“I was given the choice of leaving Seven Oaks or sanctioning your release. You needed that place. You needed what only they could offer you. You were so broken…” My own words laughed at me. Shaking my head, I released the breath from my lungs and sagged. “You’re still so broken. So alone.”
He flinched.
“Is that it?” I whispered when I caught his reaction. “Loneliness? Solitude? Is that why you’re holding me here?” I looked around the drab square of concrete, the metal of the chains making me physically recoil. “Somewhere I’d have thought you’d never want to spend another day.”
Leaning towards me, his narrow eyes filled with loathing and arrogance. “You still don’t get it, do you? After everything I told you…”
“You told me nothing, Anderson. You told me about Tamsin, but everything else you locked up tight. You refused me access to your emotions or your story. How the hell you expected me to help you in such a short space of time, and with such little give from you…”
“I didn’t expect you to help me, Kloe.” Anger made his face contort and my stomach twisted with disgust. “I wanted you to understand me.”
“I tried…”
He shook his head angrily, inclining closer until I could feel the heat of his rage upon my cheek. “No! You didn’t. You pretended to listen but you didn’t actually listen!”
Caged Page 10