by Lily White
"I think I'm giving up," I confessed on a soft voice. "I'm not sure I'm strong enough to endure this place for much longer. It's breaking me."
Ethan pushed away from the door and approached me on a predator's foot. Settling down beside me on the bed, he was careful to prevent any part of his body from touching mine. Even though we weren't against each other, I could still feel the magnetic draw, like a tether between two similar souls desperate to bring them together.
"Eventually you will be broken by your life here. It happens to every person and like them, you'll lose the grasp on yourself that you had in the beginning. I'm sure if you think hard enough, you'll recognize changes in you that have already occurred."
His voice was gentle and matter of fact as he spoke. There was no warmth, but no chilling cold either. It was simply truth that fell morosely from his lips, an explanation of what he'd seen happen with other women, and what he knew would eventually happen to me.
Daring to peek out from behind my mask and reveal a sore spot inside me, I admitted, "I realized one change last night while with James. When I'd first arrived here, I was desperate to die, to escape, to find the easiest and fastest route out of this nightmare."
"And now?" he prodded.
"Now I want to live."
The confession was a heavy weight lifted from my shoulders to be carried by his. I'm sure he thought it was some sneaky trick on my part to make him feel guilty. But it wasn't. It was simply an admission I needed to make to myself, regardless of whether anybody else heard it.
Silent for a moment, he breathed in deeply, breathed out.
I realized when he spoke again that I would always love the sound of his deep voice, no matter what words were falling from his tongue, and especially when that voice was soft.
"Every woman here vacillates between wanting to die and wanting to live. One desire comes from the intelligent mind understanding that escape will never occur. The other desire comes from the natural instinct in us all to survive. But time is cruel in the cages, Emma. The days break you down until all that is left is a woman who goes through the motions, functions only because it is her biological imperative to do so. Eventually, they all reach a point where not even the horrors they face on stage are enough to rouse them. They lie there like unfeeling logs, inanimate dolls that spread their legs without any concern for what's being done to them. I won't lie to you and tell you there's hope."
Falling back, I lay on the bed staring up at his ceiling. He didn't stand up or move away, didn't twist around to look at me. I stared at the ceiling and he stared at the open door. Silently.
"What happens to them?"
"To whom?"
"To the women who give up."
His voice was dark with bitter truth. "I schedule them for their final performance."
The crushing weight of it settled across my chest. "There really is no hope, is there?"
"Not in the studio, Emma. We're all prisoners to this place."
EMMA
The rest of the day was spent in relative silence, I slept for a while on Ethan’s bed while he worked. But eventually I woke and found my way back into the living room. From his couch I took a tour of India, Russia and the Bahamas. It was delightful to see the screen also had day trips to Venice, Mount Everest, Japan and Norway. It was like an endless slideshow of all the places I had no hope of escaping to because I would always be stuck in the studio. At least, until they carried my dead body out.
I mentioned that fact to Ethan and he'd only shaken his head softly in response.
The night arrived after several hours and I was escorted from Ethan's suite to the dive motel with its trusty sink-toilet combo. There was a stark difference between Ethan's bed and the lumpy hard mattress with its crusty blanket. Lying awake several hours, I thought about James and death, about Ethan and his warnings that I would eventually lose my will to live. And while those thoughts were certainly far from kittens and rainbows, they didn't darken my path.
It was odd, this light inside me that glowed brighter in the darkest moments. A small pinpoint of illumination, it would fester and grow, spread out with webby tentacles until they caught hold and burned as brightly as the center. Warmth radiated from that light, tickling across my skin and relaxing my muscles. Embracing me with whispers, it reminded me that I wouldn't easily be destroyed, that I still had weapons in my arsenal of which I wasn't aware.
Digging through my thoughts, I searched high and low for those weapons, one in particular coming to mind as my eyes finally fluttered closed and my body began the steep drop into slumber.
One weapon. And only one. It would have to work if I had any chance at all to stay alive.
. . .
The next morning went through its standard routine before filming. Breakfast. Shower. Makeup and wardrobe.
Today I was playing the part of a psychotic princess in her floor length, white silk robe and a cute little red bra with matching panties that were missing a crotch. I shook my head at the point of panties without that one feature and seet in my chair while an unusually peppy woman spoke in broken English and made me pretty with glittery powders and perfectly styled hair. When done, I was led to Studio A and set at the back of the room while the production crew ran about preparing the set and tending to the cameras, lights and sound equipment.
Ethan eventually entered from a door on the right. As usual, he was too handsome for words, his silver-grey shirt and black pants perfectly tailored to his strong, graceful body. He walked with the ease of a dancer and the arrogance of a man who controlled the world around him. Approaching me, his eyes performed an appreciative sweep of my body, a flicker of possessive desire flashing behind them when his mask of professional indifference slipped for just a brief moment.
"Good morning," he purred while stepping up beside me. Turning so that he could keep me in view while also watching his studio, he reached to touch my arm, but stilled his hand at the last second. As if I were diseased and just touching me could spread it, he dropped his arm back to his side and waited for me to respond.
I simply trained my eyes on the activity around me, refusing to acknowledge that slight slip of the lie he was still trying to tell. Ethan wanted me to be just another woman in a sea of helpless faces. And if it were his intent to continue living by that lie - whether it was for my benefit or his - I'd allow him that fabrication. Who was I to stomp all over the same tired routine in this place by making the director feel a damn thing?
"Morning," I answered so casually it drew his brows together.
Silence passed for a beat and then, "You seem calm today. Much calmer than you've been before filming in the past."
Without looking at him, I grinned. "It's like you said: I'm trapped. Might as well drop the panic act and make the most of it. What psychopath am I battling today?"
"I haven't met him yet, but I was told he, too, paid dearly to have this experience."
A bark of laughter shook my shoulders. "I'm an experience now? It's funny how I seem to be everything but a human being. First a prisoner. Then an investment. And now an experience. I'm honored."
He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms first and then his ankles. "If you want, I'll go meet him now and let you know how much of a threat he is."
Shrugging, I asked, "Why bother? I'm going on stage with him regardless. It won't give me any advantage to know whether he's like the first guy I killed or the second. Speaking of which, what's my weapon for today?
"Knife under the mattress."
"How original," I teased.
It was his turn to acquiesce. "Why bother with anything else? It'll be the same film. Guy walks in. He attacks. You kill him. Once it's filmed, I'll toss it out to have men signing over their bank accounts and future paychecks just to get a peek. Everything loses its meaning in the end."
That drew my head to the right so I could stare at him. "You're not your usual self today," I commented, noticing that the shadows beneath his eyes were heavier than they
'd ever been.
He shrugged, showing me that we both apparently dove into the same deep pool of apathy. Although we frantically kicked our legs and pumped our arms, we were being dragged under. This was not like Ethan Cole, and the line between my eyes deepened in response to it. "Would you like me to mix it up a little? Maybe do a song and dance before slitting his throat?"
The corners of his lips tugged up. "That depends. Who gets to pick the song?"
Soft laughter flowed between us, but I had a secret tucked up my sleeve. While tossing and turning over a lumpy bed, I'd come up with an idea on how to toy with the weapon I still had, decided that there was no harm in trying to see if I could break through Ethan's impenetrable shell.
This film wouldn't be the same monotonous routine he was expecting. I was actually excited for once - and deeply concerned. Excited because I wanted to know if I was correct about Ethan. But concerned because being excited about letting a stranger have his way with me seated me firmly on the crazy side of sanity. Hoping the son of a bitch was more interested in sex than murder, I'd spent the morning hours thinking over how I would play out this part and still remain breathing.
The knife was helpful, even if it did lack originality.
"We should get started," Ethan finally breathed out as he pushed away from the wall. Without so much as looking at me, he strode to the center of the room and called out, "Everybody to their places. We'll begin in two minutes."
Taking his place among the cameras, he dropped his arm to his side and pat his leg as if calling a dog. Rolling my eyes, I walked to him, knowing that the silent command had been intended for me. Ethan's eyes widened in surprise to see me step up next to him.
"I'd assumed you would refuse being called in that manner," he remarked.
"Stop making assumptions, Ethan. You're terrible at them," I answered, returning his words from the other day.
Lips pulled taut, his eyes were trained to the stage. "They're ready for you."
Inclining my head graciously, I walked slowly to the steps, ascended them equally as slowly, and then took my place on the bed. The bra and panties were uncomfortable, the lace scratching my skin as the underwire dug into my ribs, but I ignored the desire to rip them both off and be done with it. Clenching the robe tighter to my body, I turned to stare at Ethan, hoping like hell I was fooling everybody with my frightened act.
Ethan stood tall, his shoulders rolled back, his arms crossed, his feet set at shoulder width apart. Except, today, instead of the intense, driven focus, he wore a bored mask. My eyes narrowed to see it, my mind scrambling to think of what could have caused such a dramatic change in him.
Not quite putting my finger on it, the time had run out for me to consider the problem. The top of the clapboard snapped down as the woman called out, "Kill me, take one." It amused me that she always felt the need to announce the first take, as if there could ever be a second.
The door behind me popped open, the hinges barely squeaking as the bottom brushed over the thick rug that covered the stage floor. If this room had been an actual place, I would be spending a fortune on new rugs just because of the constant blood spill.
I toyed with the hem of my robe and glanced up in the mirror to see the man sneaking in. He wasn't bad looking with spiky brown hair and eerily light blue eyes. He had two day's worth of scruff dusting his cheeks, a strong jaw, a slightly crooked nose and a mouth that was oddly one of the most seductive I'd ever seen. It was a perfect bow with a thick bottom lip, the corners held in such a way that you saw he had secrets behind his startling eyes.
His thick neck led to broad shoulders, a scar cutting across his muscular chest through the light spread of dark hair. And although the man didn't have a perfect six pack, the toned muscle of his waist was well displayed by the way it angled down to his hips. Every move he made was perfectly demonstrated in the dance of the shadow across his stomach.
On the outside, I was a frightened girl secretly hiding a predator inside, and on the inside, I was thinking, He'll do...
It was a certainty by that point that I'd finally lost my damn mind.
The man rounded the bed and stood before me in loose silk pants that danced around his ankles when he moved. They hung from his hips seductively, a light trail of hair extending from his naval down below the waistband.
It was now or never.
Batting my lashes, I curled my mouth at the corners, my eyes widening with feigned fear while my lips parted on heavier breath. I had never been an actress on this stage before, but I was owning the job description now. Settling back, I set my palms on the mattress, intentionally allowing the robe to fall loose, my shoulders to squeeze together to highlight my tits, and my legs to part ever so slightly in invitation.
The man stared with an amused expression on his face. He thought I was going to make this easy. But before he could take the bait, I flicked a glance at Ethan to see a deep scowl shadowing his face. His biceps were bulging against this shirt, his body stock still as his eyes cut through me with angry precision and toxic skill. He was madder than hell already.
I smiled, but not enough that anybody else would catch it. Turning back to the man dead set on raping and killing me, I watched as he stepped forward to snatch at my leg. Rather than hurriedly rolling away to the other side of the bed, I simply stared while his fingers traveled up the back of my knee, along my thigh, to grip the flesh just beneath the cheek of my ass. A low growl emanated from his chest, but I ignored it. He'd have his fun, and then he'd pay the cost.
My legs spread wider and he took that invitation while baring his teeth, the excitement in his gaze blinding behind eyes that were the color of arctic ice. He stepped up to the side of the mattress and rather than struggling against him, I wrapped my legs around his waist, glanced up from beneath heavy lashes, and waited for him to make his next move.
It was obvious he'd expected the opposite of what I was doing, and I knew that if he was shocked, so was Ethan. I had to fight to keep from looking over, to lock my stare with the man this entire show had been planned for.
My lips parted on the huskiest voice I could manage. "Are you going to fuck me, or what?"
His eyes flared with male dominance, and like the helpless female I was, I feigned total submission. With his one free hand, he slipped the pants from his waist, his long, hard erection pointing out at me as he kicked the pants from his feet. I wrapped my legs even tighter, just daring him to take what he believed was his.
In an added bit of dramatics, he reached out before taking my body to force the robe off my shoulders and rip the bra apart by the front clasp. My tits bounced free and he growled again, his cock getting thicker. My eyes flicked down as a pointed look at the evidence of how much he wanted me. Thankfully, he was making this look better than I'd imagined it would.
If this guy was hoping for a fight, he'd have it later, but for now I'd be a porn star for another man who was watching.
Gripping his erection in his strong hand, he pumped once, then twice, before lining the head up to my entrance and pushing in. My body responded instantly, my nipples beading as my mouth opened on a seductive moan I may have dramatized for Ethan's benefit. Releasing my arms, I fell back on the mattress, the man grabbing my hips as he started pumping, my tits bouncing from the motion as my head turned and I met Ethan's furious stare.
I almost laughed in response, but with the force of the man fucking me, I couldn't think past the pleasure to find anything funny. It wasn't the guy inside me that was getting me off, it was the naked anger I saw pouring off Ethan's tight body.
To hide my smile, I parted my lips and let the pleasure roll out of me on sultry moans that rivaled the ones I'd made when it had been Ethan inside me. The entire time, I kept my eyes pinned to him, despite how the man's violent thrusts were shoving me across the bed, and despite the raw heat I saw flaring in Ethan's gaze. If the guy fucking me didn't kill me on stage, Ethan was sure as hell going to do it after he screamed cut.
The man
kept thrusting, pushing me closer and closer to where I assumed Ethan had hidden the knife. Once my head fell backwards over the side of the mattress, and the man was climbing up to continue riding my body, I let an arm fall to the side, searching out and finding the weapon. Unsure how I would pull off the next maneuver, I was quick to tuck the knife under the blanket and lift my body up so I could rest on my elbows. My breasts pressed together and the man stopped his thrusts long enough to bend down and take the nipple in his mouth.
His teeth latched on harder than I liked, my mouth opening on a scream of pain as his hips started thrusting even harder.
Fuck! It was agonizing, but he let go a few seconds later, his tongue licking out to taste the small wisps of blood. Anger began to build inside me.
Ignoring the pain, I jerked my hips from the man's grasp and shoved my hands against his shoulders. At first he tried to take control again, but I spoke just loud enough for him to hear me. "Let me ride you for a while."
Eyes rounding, he took the hint and allowed me to direct him to lie on his back on the bed. He must have believed he would still have the upper hand, but I knew a secret about men I was willing to use to win.
Straddling his waist, I grabbed his cock in my hand and positioned it beneath me. It wasn't until I was sliding down the thick length that I looked up to find Ethan's face practically red. Oh, he was going to destroy me when this was over. The satisfaction of that knowledge felt better than the cock filling me.
Rolling my hips, I put on the best performance possible, my tits bouncing, my mouth opening wide on throaty moans, my eyes closing only briefly just to stay in character. But discreetly I watched the man beneath me get driven closer and closer to the edge, his hands gripping my hips tightly while his body thrust frantically.