by Jessica Sims
There was no bathroom, no television, nothing. Just me, my captor, and this bed.
One bed.
No place to hide.
Fear made me tremble again, and I eyed the man. He was a few years older than me. Good looking, I suppose, if you didn't know that he turned into a monster. Andre had been good looking, too. He was tall and muscular, with dark hair and dark eyes and he kept smiling at me like that'd make things all right, somehow.
But I still had a chain on my ankle, and I was trapped here with a man that turned into a monster. A man that was going to get rid of me.
"Come on," he said and nudged the plate across the table in my direction. "I'm going to be real unhappy if you don't eat this nice breakfast I made for you."
She knows too much.
I'm going to be real unhappy.
My trembling became violent, and the need to relieve my bladder was too much. I peed all over the bed, all over the warm blankets, and all over my clothes.
The man's nostrils flared, and then he jumped up from the table and began to cuss, which made me even more frightened. I was shaking like a leaf. Exhaustion, fear, and hunger were making me weak, and when I was weak, I shook. Right now, I was shaking so hard that my teeth were chattering, and I was cold despite the warm puddle of piss that I sat in. I'd made a mess of the only bed, and now he was going to come and beat me...or bite me. Or use his fangs and cut my throat open, like I'd seen Andre do to a girl that hadn't used the bucket. My bites throbbed in tandem with my memories.
"Jesus, I'm not going to hurt you, all right?" He raked a hand through his hair and began to pace. "Just...just stop shaking."
Oh sure, like I believed that one. I just huddled closer to the wall, ever mindful of the chain on my leg. That told me everything I needed to know. It told me far more than nice words did. The chain told me that no matter how nice his words were, he didn't mean them.
He waved a hand in front of his face. "God, the smell." He headed for the door of the cabin and went outside, standing on the porch. I could see him from my vantage point on the bed, but I didn't move a muscle.
I just huddled in my own pee and waited. Waited for him to strike, to change into the lion again, something.
He didn't come back inside. He stayed out on the porch, and his head bent forward like he was texting someone. I remained where I was, though my frightened shivering quieted down a bit. I felt gross and unclean, sitting in my own urine, but I hadn't felt truly clean in months, so it didn't really matter, I supposed. My bite marks hurt, and so did the bruise on my chin and the scratches on my legs.
Mostly, I just wanted all of this to be over. I lay my head against the wall, my body aching and tired, and waited.
I fell asleep at some point. I should have been surprised, but I wasn't. After six months of captivity in Andre's basement, I'd learned to sleep through nearly everything, and I was still weak and tired from the constant blood loss and my run through the woods last night. But I woke immediately at the sound of voices.
Someone was arguing.
I sat up, alert, as the two men stomped back into the cabin. They were clearly arguing, both of them carrying stiff, angry shoulders and twin scowls on their faces. It's not the only thing that was alike with them. I blinked rapidly as I realized the men in front of me were twins. They looked identical in every way. Same short dark hair, same dark eyes, same strong jaw and straight nose. The only difference I could tell was that one sported a sleeve of tattoos, and the tattooed one looked pissed at the other.
They looked over at me. I cringed in response, clinging to the wall. I want to hide and run, but I was chained like a dog.
The tattooed one's nostrils flared and his gaze moved to me. He set a bag down on the counter and looked at his twin. "Really, Ev? You couldn't take her out to the outhouse?"
The one called Ev threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. "I spoke to her and she pissed on herself in fear. What the fuck was I supposed to do?"
"Well, what the fuck did you say?" The tattooed one's voice was quiet and calm despite the angry words and the angrier set of his shoulders. He flicked a glance over at me, then looked away when I began to shake again.
"I told her to eat breakfast! Shit! I don't know!" Ev looked exasperated more than angry. It was the tattooed one that looked angry, and I was starting to become more afraid of him than the other. "Ellis, you're the one that's good with this sort of thing, not me. It's your job."
The look the tattooed one - Ellis - gave his twin was withering. "I'm a veterinarian, not a psychologist."
"Yeah, but you work with animals all the time, don't you?"
Ellis shot his twin another ugly look, then glanced over at me. "She's not an animal, Everett. Christ. She's just scared and this isn't helping her."
"Well, if you're the grand master of handling captives, why don't you take over?" Everett's voice was full of sarcasm. "Excuse me if I don't know what to do with a terrified human girl that wets the bed when I say hello."
Ellis stopped unpacking the groceries and looked over at his twin. "Fine. I will."
To my horror, he approached me on the bed. Oh no. This was better when they'd both forgotten I existed. My breathing grew shallow with fear and I began to quake again, pushing against the wall as if I could somehow make myself disappear. But he still crossed the room, heading toward me, and then sat at the edge of the bed, regarding me.
"What's your name?" he asked me.
I wrapped my arms tighter around my torso and hid my face, letting my hair fall forward. Maybe if I ignored him, he'd go away.
He only watched me, that intense gaze studying my huddled form. Moments passed. No one moved, except maybe Everett, who crossed his arms and looked bored. Ellis continued to watch me.
Then, slowly, he inched a hand forward.
I jerked backward. I'd been waiting for that. I knew he wouldn't stay still forever. As I jerked backward, the chain on my leg clanked.
An ugly expression crossed Ellis's face. I smothered a scream in my throat as he leapt off the bed and began to tear the blankets off. There was no place for me to go, but I clawed and scrambled backward as best I could.
But he wasn't looking at me - he was staring at my leg.
A moment later, the blankets were scattered on the floor, and Ellis grabbed the chain around my ankle. I let out a small scream, my eyes fluttering closed. I knew what came next. He'd drag me forward, feed off of me, and then release me to huddle back into my corner again. My entire body tensed, and I waited.
The chains jerked. "What the fuck is this? Ev? Tell me this wasn't you."
"Well. Ah."
I waited for a slap, or a drag. Something. When nothing came, I clutched at my bravery and peeked open my eyes. Ellis was holding the chain but he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at his twin with something like horror and rage mixed together.
"Fucking hell, Ev. You know I hate it when people do this to dogs. How could you do this to a girl? A girl that's been through what she has?"
Everett squirmed and looked uncomfortable in front of his twin's piercing anger. "Damn it, Ellis, what was I supposed to do? She's a runner. No matter what we do, she runs. Beau said to keep her locked down at all times. I just assumed that meant...you know." He shrugged helplessly.
"Not this," Ellis snarled. His gaze whipped back to me. "There are ways that don't involve chains."
I cringed. Ways of what? Forcing me to comply? Was he going to cripple me? Starve me? Maybe it was better if I had the stupid but food-happy twin, I'd be better off. At least I more or less knew my boundaries when I was chained.
He held a hand out toward Everett. "Key."
As I watched, Everett fished around in his pocket, then pulled out a keyring, selected a key, and held it out to his brother. Ellis took the key and his hands moved to the cuff on my leg. I had half a mind to fight when he touched my ankle, but I remained still, instead. Watching.
Waiting for a window that would allow me to escape again.
He bent over the cuff and began to unlock it. "I want you to go to the main house and get some linens," he said, speaking in a low, smooth voice and it took a moment for me to realize he was talking to his brother. "Fresh blankets, pillowcase, everything. Some cleaning supplies. Bathsheba will know which ones. And get some fresh clothes." His fingers looped around my ankle and then he squinted at my figure. "She looks like she's about Sara's size."
"But--"
"I'll handle things from here," Ellis said. "And towels. Get towels."
"Got it," Everett said, and then he headed out of the cabin, disappearing into the woods. I watched him go through the windows, then peeked over at Ellis again. The angry, tattooed one. As I did, he removed the cuff from my leg and it fell away onto the bed. I held my breath.
Ellis said nothing. He simply watched me.
Was this...was this a hint that I could run and it would be okay? Was he letting me go? Or was this another mind game that I was supposed to play along with? I didn't know. There was only one sure way to find out.
I scrambled up from the bed and sprang for the door.
"Nope," Ellis said, and just as quickly grabbed me by the waist and hauled me back down on the bed again, using his body weight to trap me.
I let out a frightened little whimper, but when he lay on top of me, I didn't fight. I just squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the inevitable. For the biting. For the hurting. For the disgusting comments about how sweet I tasted and how, if I was bad, I'd get the bites I hated the most -- the ones on the vein that ran along my inner thigh.
But Ellis said nothing. He simply watched me and waited. His hand stroked my tangled, filthy hair occasionally. It was probably meant to soothe, but I was beyond all soothing. I just lay limp underneath him.
Eventually, he eased his weight off of me. When he did, I slid backward, returning to my corner, my eyes asking a silent question. Is this okay?
He said nothing, but he didn't pounce on me.
I counted that as a win.
The stare-down continued for what felt like forever. Eventually, though, there was another knock at the door. Ellis gave me a long look, then headed back to the door of the cabin. The other twin stood there and held a bag out to him.
"I've got it from here," Ellis said, taking the proffered bag. He shut the door in the other man's face and turned around to look at me again. He pulled a few towels out of the duffel bag his twin had brought, his motions slow and easy and calm. "Then, we're going to take a shower."
We? We were going to take a shower? A whimper threatened low in my throat but I swallowed it, not wanting to make any noise. So this is how it would be. These creatures hadn't fed on me yet, but people kept slaves for other reasons, too. Andre had never wanted me sexually, but that didn't mean that this one wouldn't. I wanted to run, but I was weak and tired and he was strong. My body already ached with bruises from my last escape, and my ankle felt swollen where the chains had been.
The best thing to do would be to not fight at all. So I closed my eyes, and I waited for the worst.
"Stand up," Ellis told me.
Biting my lip, I did so. My arms crossed over my breasts, over the dirty shirt I wore. I kept my eyes closed, waiting. I didn't want to see his face when he swooped in and attacked.
I heard a rustle, and then the mattress nudged me.
"Can you move to the side, please?"
I opened my eyes a little, flinching as I looked around. He was hauling the mattress up, the mattress I'd peed on. I stepped aside and watched, dumbfounded, as he carried it to the front door and headed outside with it.
Was he...leaving?
I watched as he propped it up against a nearby tree, studied the stain I'd made, and shook his head. And then he turned and grabbed me, just as I tried to sneak out the door again. "Come on," he told me, ignoring the fact that I'd just tried to escape again. His hold on my arm was gentle. "Let's go get you cleaned up."
I dragged my feet as he pulled me back behind the cabin. I wanted to scream in protest, wrestle against his grip, something. Anything. Truth was, I was too scared and exhausted to fight. I'd learned that fighting got me nothing but punishment. If he wanted to grope me as he washed me, I'd just, well... I'd endure it. That was all I had in me anymore.
I said nothing as he led me to a well-pump. He looked at me, looked at the pump, and then sighed. "I don't suppose you'd stay here while I went back into the cabin to get the soap, would you?" At my silence, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Yeah, that's kind of what I thought. Come on, then."
Off we went, back to the cabin, with him holding my elbow in a gentle grip. He rummaged through the items his twin had brought, grabbed soap, a washcloth, some shampoo and conditioner, and tossed them all in a bucket, whistling to himself. He tossed one of the towels in as well, and then took it by the handle. "Back we go."
And we went back out to the pump. Once we were back out there, he set the bucket down, placed the contents on a nearby rock, and then hung the end of the bucket on the pump. Still holding my elbow with one hand, he began to prime the pump with the other, muscles flexing. It looked a bit annoying to have to juggle me and the pump and everything else at once, but he never voiced a word of complaint. He just acted like this was all very normal, and still whistled under his breath.
Once he filled the bucket with water, he set it down. He released my elbow. "Take your clothes off, please."
I looked at the trees in the distance, wondering how far I could get before he tackled me again.
"You won't make it," he cautioned.
He was right. A sob catching in my throat, I clutched at my shirt and didn't undress. Panic swelled through me.
"Cause and effect," he said easily. "You run, I have to catch you."
I trembled. If I ran, he'd be furious.
"Look, Becky. I don't know your name, but I have to call you something, and Becky's as good a name as any. Your clothes are filthy, Becky. I'm sure they started out clean, but you're a little dirty and they smell like piss, so we're going to take them off, wash you, and then we're going to get you in something clean, all right?"
I just stared at him, clutching my shirt to my body. "Please don't hurt me," I whispered.
He - Ellis - groaned and rubbed his face, as if weary. "I'm starting to think I was too hard on Everett," he mused as if to himself. Then he shook his head. "Come on, sweetheart. Becky. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to clean you up, all right?"
I didn't move a muscle.
His hands went to the hem of my shirt and began to drag it upward.
Big, fat tears rolled down my face. I sniffed hard, biting back my sobs.
He groaned again and shook his head. "All right, all right. We leave the clothes on." He released my shirt and gave my shoulder a pat of reassurance. "Fair warning, though, the water's cold."
And with that, he picked up the bucket of water and dumped it over my head.
I sputtered, shivering and shocked at the feel of the water. My filthy hair clung to my face and Ellis held out a bottle of shampoo to me. When I didn't take it, he said nothing. Instead, he squirted a huge amount into his palm and began to wash my hair for me as I trembled and quaked from more fear than cold.
When he was satisfied that my long, tangled hair was sufficiently clean, he refilled the bucket. "Close your eyes."
I did, and he dumped water over my head again.
He washed my hair twice more, then rubbed conditioner into the length of it, and we moved on to scrubbing at my skin. The washcloth ran over every inch of my exposed skin and he washed me like I was the family dog. Bucket after bucket of water was tossed over my skin, until I was scrubbed pink on all visible surfaces. Then came another humiliating rinse or two, and he washed the conditioner out of my hair.
Once he was satisfied, he picked up one of the towels, wrapped me in it, and said, "Come on. Back into the cabin."
I walked ahead of him, noticing as we headed back inside that
in the distance, there was a small, person-height wood cube with a moon in the door. An outhouse. It just emphasized the fact that I needed to pee all over again, and I pointed at it with a trembling finger.
"All right," he said, but stopped me when I started to head through the woods toward it. "Your feet are bare. You're going to cut them up worse than they already are."
And his hand went under the backs of my knees, the other at my shoulders, and lifted me up to carry me to the bathroom.
It struck me as absurd, and I had to swallow the hysterical giggle rising in my throat. He was hauling me like a man would haul his bride across a threshold. Except, I wasn't a bride, and that wasn't a dream house he was taking me toward. It was absurd. All of this was so very, very absurd.
I kept thinking that as I left the outhouse, he picked me up again, and then we went back inside the cabin. He set down fresh clothes for me, gave me a wipe to clean my hands, and said, "Change. I'm going to fill up the bucket and I'll be right back." His dark gaze fixed on my face again. "Also, I'm not saying this to scare you, but don't try to run again, all right? Your feet are torn up, and you know that we change forms. You should also know that I can scent your trail from a mile away, so you wouldn't be able to hide for long. Just...spare us both the trouble, all right?"
He pressed the clothes into my hands, and then headed back out of the cabin.
I stared after him, my gaze on the open door.
I could bolt. I could run as far as I could in my wet clothes and aching bare feet. I was starving, but maybe I'd be able to get far enough before he caught me. Maybe.
I glanced down at the dry, warm clothes in my hands. Or...I could change into new clean clothing in privacy, since that was a sure thing.
I opted for that, and quickly took off my old clothes, exchanging them for a warm, fuzzy sweatshirt and a pair of checkered flannel sleep pants that were so big they hung off my hips. I had to double-knot them to get them to stay up, but I couldn't stop touching them. They were so warm and soft.