by Dori Lavelle
When he pulled me out once more, I began laughing. I could not help myself. I laughed at the turn of events, at the pain, at my stupidity, at him. I laughed and cried because there was nothing else I could do.
Angered by my actions, he climbed fully clothed into the tub.
His hands struck me from all sides, his palms and fists crushing me again. My skin felt numb from the cold and pain.
But the more he beat me, the louder I laughed, the more I cried. I did not beg him to stop. I knew how that would end.
After trying to drown me again a couple more times, he unzipped his pants. “I’ll fuck the fight out of you,” he said. Then the palm of his hand was on my back, pushing me forward over the edge of the tub. He began to rape me, thrusting into me over and over and over again. He fucked me brutally, until all the feeling in my lower body had disappeared.
After an eternity, he pulled me out of the water and dumped me on the floor.
“I’m not done with your pussy yet.”
As he had done in the studio, he pushed my legs apart, his hands grazing the inner flesh of my thighs before sliding to my waist, and gripping it.
As he positioned his body between my legs, his hard cock pressed against my stomach for a moment until he moved it lower. The tip met the entrance to my vagina, aimed, and then he tore into me, charging forward even as my inner muscles resisted the invasion.
Discomfort turned to pain in my lower stomach. His thrusts became longer, harder, deeper.
My hands bunched into fists, tightening and loosening with each slam of his cock into me. My strangled cries merged with his grunts before bouncing off the walls.
Then he erupted inside me, withdrew, and got to his feet.
I hugged my knees, my tears hot and slippery on my skin. I hated myself for being weak, for letting it get this far, for not seeing the monster in my own bed, for not realizing that Miles had been too good to be true. I hated myself for every decision that had led to this moment. I should have seen the two sides of the man I loved. I should have paid more attention during the times I thought Miles was acting strange. Most importantly, I shouldn’t have written the article that started it all.
Alvin locked the door behind him, leaving me alone with my pain, fears, and regrets.
For a long time, I lay still, staring up at the ceiling, forcing myself to breathe. Eventually exhaustion took over and I fell asleep in a fetal position, my teeth chattering.
Chapter Six
Blood smeared on glass, broken teeth, bulging eyes, gunshots. These images filled my dreams.
When I awoke, I had no idea what time it was. How long had it been since he left me on the floor? My body was somewhat acquainted with the pain, but something else deflected my attention from it: thirst. My throat and mouth were parched. But there was nothing I could do about it. The last thing I wanted was to see Alvin again. I was too afraid of what he would do to me next.
I stood up slowly, wincing, and covered myself with the thin blanket that lay atop the mattress. I lowered myself onto the mattress and leaned against the cool wall, waiting. What I waited for, I had no idea.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to sleep again, to escape the only way I could.
My eyes flew open again when a thought dropped into my mind. The bathtub.
Water.
Licking my lips, I crawled and then limped toward the tub, tasting the cool water before it touched my tongue. I turned the faucet. Nothing came out.
I wept with disappointment, realizing I had two choices before me. I could choose to continue fighting the inevitable humiliation, or choose to fight for my survival.
Fighting for survival meant giving in to him so I could buy myself more time. Both choices were devastating. How could I survive being raped on camera? And how could I allow myself to die so young?
Laughter tumbled up through my chest and spilled out of my mouth again, the way it had done when Alvin was in the room. I laughed so hard my stomach muscles hurt.
Soon the laughter was replaced by heart-wrenching sobs.
Finally, I stood up from the mattress, the pain in my body driving me insane. Unsure of what else to do, I went to the wall and walked along it. My fingers grazed the cool metal.
He had done it on purpose, had made this room cooler than the rest of the yacht so I would freeze at night. The thin blanket was hardly helping.
I continued walking along the wall, reminding myself that he had not yet taken everything away from me. I still had some kind of freedom. I could walk—maybe not in the sunshine or in wide open spaces, but I could move inside my prison cell. Not moving for long stretches of time would cause my body to become numb and weak. I would exercise in my own little way, build up my strength for battle.
Walking helped me focus on something other than memories of my childhood. I felt them pushing against my resistance, reminding me of what I had done. I had ignored these memories for thirteen years. And now they were demanding my attention.
I shook my head. I could not go back there. I walked faster around the room, pushing deeper against the wall.
Breathe, Chloe. Breathe. All you have to do is keep breathing. You don’t have to do anything else. The monsters will go away.
But the memories pushed harder. I was powerless to stop or filter them. Images flooded my mind, as though escaping from their own prison cell.
I saw the faces of my three friends, first happy and hopeful, giggling as we prepared to say goodbye to each other, off to pursue education and our futures in different states. I had been ready to run fast toward a fresh start, to forget what had happened. I had not run fast enough.
I sank to the ground, my forehead pressed to the floor. I wept.
Alvin had killed Stacy and Jane. They died because of what I had done. Melanie was right: the blame was mine. They had all tried to help me, and in the end only I survived. Stacy and Jane were gone. They had been robbed of their futures, their happily-ever-afters. It killed me to think they had died looking forward to love, marriage, kids. Dead in their wedding dresses.
What hope was there for me? Alvin had killed before; he would not think twice about killing me. And maybe he would not stop with me. Maybe he’d wait until Melanie found the one, until she planned her own wedding, picked out flowers and music, and put on her white dress.
Would he wait for her? Or was I the ultimate prize? Before he killed me, I had to plead with him to spare Melanie. I couldn’t stand the thought of another person’s death on my conscience, even in the afterlife. Melanie had suffered enough.
I had started it all, and I had to be the one to end it. I would make sure he ended up in prison before he could hurt Melanie. One of us had to survive.
Frustrated with my obstinate thoughts, I shrieked, irritating my dry throat further. I stood, turned to face the wall, and pummeled the metal with my fists as if it were to blame for my predicament. As though it, too, had let me down. I struck it until my hands ached.
Good. I wanted more physical pain to distract me from the aching of my heavy heart.
When I stopped, struggling to catch my breath, I stood there with my hair pasted to my sweaty face, tears drying on my cheeks, my heart thudding. Dizziness washed over me.
I needed to lie down. Maybe I could fall asleep again for however long it took for Alvin to return. At this point I didn’t care if he came back. Staying here alone, facing my demons, was as much torture as facing him. I was doomed either way. He controlled me now, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I obeyed him, he might let me out on the upper deck where I could find a way to free myself.
I lay on the mattress, watching the small lamp. Sleep refused to come. The sounds inside my head, the voices of the past grew louder with each second—laughter, crying, gunshots. I listened to the voices of everybody I knew. My employees no longer congratulated me, instead they judged and condemned me. I heard my friends in Boca Raton laughing at me and turning their backs on the monster I turned out to be.
I heard my mother weeping for the daughter she had lost once again.
All my cards had been played. No more second chances.
If I survived Alvin, nothing would ever be the same. I would have to live my life as a recluse. The press would make money off my story.
In high school I had done everything to be seen, to be noticed, to be appreciated. Now I might end up back in the place I had run from as a child. With each second that passed, scissors shredded my life into nothing.
Sleep finally arrived, wrapping itself around me like a thick cloud. I let it swallow me whole, pull me into its darkness, hide me in its folds. Even with the inevitable nightmares, sleep at least would let me forget the hunger and thirst eating away at my stomach and throat.
With my eyes shut against the world, I could forget about the dungeon, the naked walls, and the voices that filled it. Behind my closed eyelids, I could return to Boca Raton or home to Misty Cove. I could listen to music, eat pizza, taste coffee on my tongue, enjoy a long bath, take a road trip. I could live.
This time, I was spared the nightmares. Instead I had a beautiful dream of my wedding day. The dress was snow-white, stunning, and the flowers breathtaking. Miles was there, smiling at me, loving me. His vows were honest and pure, nothing hidden between the lines. His eyes were windows to our future together.
In them I saw candlelight dinners, walks in the rain, nights of passion. I saw kids running in the yard, chasing butterflies and splashing in the backyard pond while Miles and I sat on the porch. We held hands while drinking hot chocolate and eating cherries.
After a while, I lowered my mug and stood, went to sit on his lap. His thighs were firm and strong under my butt. He was my support, my rock. He put his arms around me and turned his face up for a kiss.
When our lips met, I didn’t taste the chocolate or the cherries. I tasted something thick and metallic, something revolting. I tasted blood.
Chapter Seven
He carried me, the blanket still draped over my naked body. He had entered the room while I was buried in sleep.
My eyes were still closed, and I willed myself to keep still, but panic rioted within me. I tried to assess his mood from the way his feet moved. The sound of them touching the ground, the sigh when they lifted from it, the sweep as one step took over another—I knew it all by heart.
He walked in measured, controlled steps, in no hurry at all. His breathing was even, not as hurried as it had been when he had brought me back to my room. Hope spread through my chest. I ignored it. There were too many opportunities for disappointment.
My body still ached, the fire on my skin distant but still present. It served as a reminder that Alvin could not be trusted under any circumstances.
Curiosity won. I opened my eyes, enough to get a glimpse of where he was taking me. My gaze landed under his stubbly chin. His eyes were turned away from me, concentrated on his destination. The danger was nowhere to be seen in his features, but his jaw was tight.
I was sure he knew my eyes were on him, but he didn’t look down at me, didn’t say a word. Any remaining hope turned to ashes. If I didn’t look into his eyes, I wouldn’t know if he was still Alvin.
This time he did not take the steps that led down to the studio, but instead walked in the direction of our former honeymoon suite. The room I had dressed in before our wedding. Surprise and confusion swirled in my mind. I never thought I would see that room again. I’d thought for as long as I was on his yacht alive, the dungeon and studio would be the only rooms I would enter.
He opened the door with his shoulder and carried me inside. The first thing I noticed was the smell of cologne. Stronger and more masculine than the one Miles had used. Miles’s had been manly but with a refreshing touch. There was nothing refreshing about this one.
He laid me down gently on the bed. The touch of the soft fabric comforted me. Unable to stop myself, I flattened my palms against the smooth sheets.
He looked down at me. His eyes burned hot and cold, fire and ice, danger and comfort. Something else reflected in them too: raw hurt, so deep it stabbed my heart. Then he sat next to me.
“You okay?” He pushed damp hair from my sweating face. “Do you want me to get you anything?”
I didn’t speak for a moment, taken aback by the kindness and gentleness in his voice. What happened to the man I had seen hours earlier? Where was Alvin? I searched for him and found Miles.
The simple act of parting my lips to speak was a struggle. The corners of my mouth cracked when I pulled them apart. One word came out.
“Water.”
***
He placed a tray next to me on the bed. It held a jug of water, a bowl of soup, and a turkey sandwich cut in half. He helped me sit up. My head swam, so I held on to him for support.
Worry creased his face as he picked up a crystal glass, filled it with water, and brought it to my lips. I fought the urge not to rip it out of his hands and drain it in one gulp. I had to be careful. I didn’t want Alvin to return before I had eaten.
He pressed a hand behind the back of my head and I leaned forward. Before I took a sip, my gaze rose to his face, looking for any last signs of hatred, making sure I wasn’t walking into a trap. I wanted to know whether it was all a game, whether he was giving me something only to take it away. But there was nothing there. No animosity. Just compassion.
I would take advantage of the situation, as I had no idea how long it would last. There was no way of knowing how long Miles would stay.
I lifted my hands and laid them on top of his as I drank, at first in slow sips, and then gulping down the water, afraid it might disappear. The moment the first drop touched my tongue, I was in heaven. Water had never tasted so good. It cooled, comforted, and healed with every drop.
He refilled my glass and waited as I drank. I felt myself getting closer to feeling normal again. A voice inside my head laughed, telling me I was fooling myself in thinking I could ever be whole.
I drank deeper, swallowed faster, almost choking as the water gushed down my throat.
“Slow down,” he said. “It’s not going anywhere.” His eyes were soft and gentle, his lips curled at the corners. I slowed but continued drinking, my gaze holding his.
Once the glass was empty, he picked up the turkey sandwich.
“Eat this. I’ll cook you a proper meal later. It helps to start slow when you haven’t eaten for so many hours.”
“Hours,” I said in a whisper. “How long…how long since—”
“Sixteen hours,” he said, and then, as though something had pulled at him, he jumped to his feet and started pacing, looking confused, pulling at his hair with his hands.
After a few minutes he stopped and turned to me. The warmth was still there, but it had cooled a bit. “Don’t ask questions,” he said. “Just eat. Eat, Chloe,” he added, quickly this time. He came back to sit next to me, took the sandwich, and started breaking it into pieces. He fed the pieces to me.
As I ate slowly, keeping my eyes on him, a question popped into my head. Could it be Miles was as afraid of Alvin as I was?
I had never met anyone with multiple personalities, and I had no idea how it worked. How could two different people reside in the same body?
For now, it looked as though Miles had managed to push his way out. But Alvin might show up any minute.
Of course it could be Alvin playing me, but I doubted it.
This man’s tenderness came from a genuine place. And not only had he fed me and tended to me with care, he had called me Chloe. Could it be over, was Miles back for good? Not that I wanted him back. I would never again feel safe with him, but maybe I would be able to convince him to let me go. His eyes told me he felt something for me still. He loved me. And I could use his love to set myself free.
I ate and drank quietly, enjoying every crumb, every sip, making sure I ate my fill in case I didn’t get anything else for another sixteen hours.
Miles watched me with an unreadable but tender expression.
He touched my face, brushed back my hair, and wiped my mouth with the napkin when a river of soup trickled down my chin. Confusion and relief brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them away.
I couldn’t show my emotions when I had no idea how far from the ledge I stood.
Miles picked up the tray and put it on the table next to the window. He walked back to me, hands in his pockets. “Anything else you want? Do you want to have a shower or bath?”
“No,” I said. There was nothing I wanted more than a warm, soothing bath, but I didn’t want to be naked around him. “Just some clothes…if that’s okay.” I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, hiding my nakedness.
“Of course, I’ll get you something to wear.” He didn’t have to go far. My unpacked suitcase lay next to a standing mirror close to the door. The only thing I had removed from it was the dress I’d worn for the ceremony.
He unzipped it, pulling out a pair of jeans and a jade stretch top. He moved to walk away from the suitcase, but then turned back and pulled out a pair of panties. He handed them to me and I attempted to stand up. He placed a hand on my stomach to keep me down.
Heavy, solid fear knotted inside me. Was he going to rape me?
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and tried to pull off the blanket. “You are too weak. Let me help you change.”
After peeling the blanket from my body, he surveyed me for a moment, his eyes sweeping the length of my body from my neck to the tips of my toes.
I held my breath, forcing myself not to think about anything, to stay alert in case something in him changed. In the end nothing did. He bent over and kissed my forehead. His eyes glistened as he straightened up again and reached for my panties.
A few minutes later, he had dressed me, and I felt almost human again. There would be a barrier between me and Alvin now, even though it was only a flimsy piece of clothing.
I stifled a yawn. My eyes were growing heavy. I had slept for hours inside my chamber, but now I was drunk on food and comfort, and sleep threatened to knock me down again. I blinked it away furiously. No sleep for me. I had to stay awake and keep watch. I had to wait until he took me out on deck so I could find a way to talk to Jim. But the strength drained out of my body too fast for me to hold it in.