by Dori Lavelle
As he thrust in and out, my body pretended the horrors of the past few days had never happened, pretended everything would be okay. But my mind was on high alert, telling me I was walking into danger. At the same time, it felt like my one chance to set myself free.
If I gave myself willingly to this man’s body, Alvin might not feel the need to force himself on me.
Miles buried himself deeper into me, hiding in me as I hid in him. Both of us continued to cry. Our lovemaking was as heartbreaking as it was comforting. When would I get comfort again? What if I died never feeling safe or loved again?
Miles came first, but he still clutched on to me, continued to move inside me, waiting for me to orgasm. It took a while, because my mind was still at war, fighting between letting go and giving in to him completely, staying on guard in case Alvin struck.
Body won against mind. My orgasm seized me completely, shooting life into my veins, drugging me.
After all the abuse, it surprised me that I was still capable of feeling pleasure.
After we made love, Miles stood. For a second I feared Alvin had returned and I’d be tortured. Instead, he wrapped the blanket around me, picked me up, and took me to the main room.
Chapter Sixteen
I cried when he put me in the shower and climbed in with me.
He washed me, running his fingers gently over the scars Alvin had inflicted, the small burn in my inner thigh. Then he unraveled my ponytail to wash my hair. The tips of his fingers massaged my scalp. The warm water soothed my aches.
Neither of us spoke. I was afraid to say anything in case he changed his mind about what he was doing and turned evil. I didn’t care if he sent me back to my dungeon afterward. I would be clean and feeling better. Hopefully he’d feed me before that as well, like he had done the last time.
He did not ask me to leave. He helped me change into a nightdress and brought me a tray of food, the same meal he had cooked the day we got married.
At first I hesitated to eat it. It reminded me so much of the moment everything in my life changed. But I was in no position to be picky. I had to take what I got before it was taken away.
By the time I finished eating, Alvin had still not returned. I relaxed a little. I had to get as close to Miles as possible, to see if I could find a way to escape. Maybe he’d feel sympathy for me and help me.
Did Miles even know the things Alvin did to me? Did he know there was a dark side to him? I was afraid to ask.
His eyes were still conflicted, as though a war raged within him. Was that Alvin fighting to get out?
I handed him the tray, and he stood to take it back to the kitchen. I was surprised when he locked the door. He’d done it when he went to get the food earlier, and the last time he had come to my rescue. Why would he do that if he still loved me? I didn’t believe he could be both Alvin and Miles at the same time. And the idea of Alvin being kind was ridiculous.
He didn’t stay away for long. Back inside the room, he locked the door and threw back the covers. He motioned for me to lie down and lowered himself next to me, like last time. He held me.
“Miles,” I said, testing the waters.
“Chloe.” That was all he needed to say to assure me he was Miles. Alvin would never call me Chloe or respond to being called Miles.
I had waited long enough. I had to try again, to reach out to him.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“Doing what?”
“Helping me. I thought you hated me.” I held my breath as I waited for his answer. His body tensed, so did mine.
He let me go and lifted himself onto his elbow, his features soft in the dimly lit room. “I love you, Chloe,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Now go to sleep.”
I wanted to talk some more, but was afraid to push it. Hopefully he would wake up in the morning as Miles. If he did, there was a possibility he would stay much longer.
In the morning, I would try talking to him again. It hurt me to think that if I had my way, he would probably end up in prison for murder, kidnapping, and rape. But Alvin was a part of him. They resided in the same body. I couldn’t save Miles if I wanted to.
Either way, I needed all my strength, and I was glad for the opportunity to sleep in a comfortable bed for the night. The mattress in my chamber was so thin, I often woke up with more aches and pains.
Before I fell asleep, I thought of a plan. In the morning, if Miles was still there, I’d convince him to let me have breakfast in the kitchen, where I might be able to find a weapon. Then I’d ask to go on deck and find a way to talk to Jim again, to beg for his help. I couldn’t do it alone. I’d end up dead. The thought of being feasted on by sharks was horrifying.
***
I stirred, and Miles turned to face me. My heart stopped when the warmth in his eyes turned to ice. Within a few seconds, he transformed into someone else.
A lot had changed during the night. As I looked into Alvin’s murderous eyes, my plans unraveled.
“What the fuck.” Alvin tore himself away from me. His eyes bore into mine, blaming me for everything that had happened.
“You brought me here last night. We made love,” I said, my heart inside my throat. I tried to connect to him, to call Miles back. I wanted Alvin to know he had a kinder side. Was there a chance I could turn him into the person I wanted him to be?
A cloud of warning settled over his features, and I sat up in bed, shifting away from him. Before I could do anything else, he grabbed me by the hair. The pain reminded me that it would have been safer in the dungeon after all, safer than inside the monster’s lair. I would never make the same mistake again.
“You filthy bitch.” His spit hit my face. “You think you can manipulate me?”
I tried to shake my head, but moving was painful. I let my eyes do the speaking. Words would only pour gasoline on an already burning fire.
He threw me back and started unlocking and opening drawers. I heard the clink of metal, and then he rushed to my side of the bed, gripping my arm. He backhanded me when I resisted. The handcuffs clicked around my wrist and the bedpost.
With me all tied up, he wandered around the room, his eyes squeezed shut, his face tight and strained.
A deep realization dawned on me.
Miles was the part of Alvin that had been attracted to me in high school, that lived out its fantasy of loving me. Miles was Alvin’s weakness, just as his love for me was. He was fighting his feelings for me now. He loved and hated me at once, and it drove him nuts.
“Alvin, it’s okay. Everything is going to be alright.”
“It’s not fucking okay.” He continued pacing, grabbing at his hair. Good, let him feel the pain of having his hair pulled.
He kicked down the trash can near the desk and I bit my tongue.
Keep your mouth shut.
He stopped, dropping his clenched hands to his sides. A few heartbeats, then he stomped off to the bathroom. Seconds later, the shower was running and hot steam escaped through the open door. He was scrubbing me off, hating himself for losing control to Miles.
Knowing about his weakness gave me an edge. It could be my strength.
He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his middle, skin red from being scrubbed, hair damp, droplets stuck to his well-trimmed beard. My stomach twisted at the sight of Miles’s body.
He got dressed without looking at me, then he unlocked the handcuffs and ushered me out of the room, hand tight on my forearm.
Thank God I ate last night. Today didn’t look promising.
Before he locked me up, his eyes met mine. I prepared myself for more abuse. “You were right, you know. That article you wrote about my mother… it was accurate.” He paused. “Have you ever considered the possibility that I could be HIV-positive too? She was positive when she gave birth to me.”
My world stopped turning. It was as though his statement had sucked the air out of the room.
I tried to swallow, but
my throat was too dry. Through blurry eyes I gazed down at my shaking hands, at my skin, the veins showing through. I thought of the blood running through me. I moved my gaze back up to meet his satisfied expression.
“Since I’ve fucked you, I wonder what that means for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Even though I was petrified by the revelation Alvin hit me with yesterday, I managed to put up a fight before he got me back into the studio.
I hadn’t slept most of the night as I struggled to digest the horror that Alvin had likely infected me with HIV. I’d cried and prayed and punched the walls, feeling trapped and afraid.
I’d thought back over the previous months, assessing my health, looking for symptoms that could point to HIV. I didn’t fall ill often, but after returning from our holiday in London three months after Miles and I started dating, I spent days in bed with severe bronchitis. I’d also had headaches on and off, but I’d attributed them to stress. Could it have been I had the virus already?
Many questions ran through my mind, but I had no answers. I finally gave up trying and fell asleep. I dreamt of being chained to a hospital bed, thin and close to death, unrecognizable even to myself. I’d woken up in a cold sweat to find Alvin standing over me.
Now, inside the room I dreaded the most, I felt like throwing up. I watched him undress. He ordered me to do the same. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself.
“I won’t let you fuck me again. You disgust me.” I glared at him with burning eyes, my temper flaring. “Don’t you dare touch me, you sick monster.”
He laughed. “Monster? Is that all you can come up with? You’re forgetting one thing. You made me who I am. That makes you an even bigger monster. You deserve everything I did to you, and everything I plan to do to you.” He took a step toward me, but I took one back. ”There’s one little thing you can be grateful for. At least I’ll kill you before AIDS does.”
I dropped my arms and balled my hands into fists, slamming my back against the wall. “If you come near me, I swear—”
“You’ll what? Kelly, you’re mine to destroy. There’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing.” His jaw moved as he clenched and unclenched his teeth, his rage building. Any moment now, he’d strike.
It took a few more steps for him to get to me, to touch me. I fought him with everything I had. My fists pummeled his body, and my nails clawed at his face, leaving bloody scratches on his skin. When I attempted to kick him in the groin, he caught my leg.
All the pain he had inflicted on me turned into white-hot rage. Clenching my teeth, I swung back my hand and struck his cheek. The slap left my palm stinging.
“Fuck you, stupid bitch.” He tried to grab my hands, but I moved too fast for him. I pounced on him and buried my hands into his hair, tearing and ripping. He growled and cuffed my wrists with his hands. His grip was so tight, I thought he would snap my bones. Baring my teeth, I dug my nails into his scalp.
After failing to fight me off, he howled, slapped a hand on my shoulder, and raised his knee. It slammed into my stomach. Pain brought me to my knees, and I covered my stomach with my hands as though holding its contents inside. I rolled onto my back. He took the opportunity to press his foot against my throat.
“You want me to kill you now, is that it?” He pressed his foot down, but not enough to cut off my air supply. “Is that what you want?”
“I hate you,” I croaked. Ignoring the pain for a moment, I gripped his ankle with both hands, pushing my nails into his flesh. He was furious—so was I. This was a fight I would probably lose, but I needed to try.
He stepped back, releasing my neck, and hopped around the room cursing. By the time he snapped back, I had already jumped to my feet and grabbed something from the bed—a piece of metal resembling the batons carried by British cops.
My body was furious at me for draining it of the little energy it had left, but adrenaline and speed were my friends. The stick bounced slightly when it struck his face, cutting him above the eye.
He laid a hand on his injured eye and squeezed the other shut, trying to contain the pain. His recovery was almost immediate. Fire bloomed in his eyes, alerting me my time was up.
The next thing I knew, the baton was no longer in my hands, and the tables had turned. I was now on the receiving end of pain. I felt the stick slice through my flesh, striking bone. My head, legs, my back, my ribs all took the impact. Then I was on the floor again, whimpering. How much pain could a body endure?
“You asked for it,” he said, repeating the words over and over.
He caught me above the eye like I’d done to him, the pain shooting through my eyeball and into my brain. The swelling closed my eye almost immediately. I closed both my eyes and turned onto my side, curling up into a ball. I heard the stick fall to the floor.
I thought it was over, but he kicked me in the lower back.
I forgot how to breathe.
Do it, I thought. Kill me already.
At this point death seemed more welcoming than the agony. But what was taking so long? Why wouldn’t my bruised body set me free? Why wasn’t I reaching the end?
My lips continued to move, but no words came out.
“I hope you learned your lesson.” He gave me one last kick in the head, and I swore I felt my brain shift from its usual place.
I didn’t respond. And he didn’t speak to me again. He dragged me across the floor and returned me to my chamber, where I wallowed in pain for a couple of hours, all the while begging death to take me.
I had no chance against his strength or his darkness. Escaping him would be a miracle.
This time I wished he would stay away for much longer, and when he came back, I hoped it would all be over. The thought gave me a tiny spark of satisfaction. My unexpected death would mess up his plans.
With a tiny “fuck you” smile on my face, I swayed in and out of consciousness. And then I fell asleep.
***
I was awoken by a splash of water on my face.
I had to use my fingers to pry one of my eyes open. Then I saw him, a tray of food on the floor next to his feet.
Damn. He’d come just in time, before I died from hunger and thirst. He wanted me to suffer till my last breath. I licked my lips, wanting to taste the water. I only tasted blood.
“Eat if you want to live,” he said, and I heard his footsteps retreat. “I’m not done with you yet. You’ll die when I say it’s time.” He left.
Unable to sit, I slowly pulled one of my hands from where I’d tucked it between my knees, and touched the cheese and tomato sandwich. I pulled the plate toward me and did my best to eat without propping myself up. I wanted to die. I could refused to eat the food he brought me, so death would come faster, but my body wouldn’t let me stay hungry in the presence of food.
My mind fought my body, and my body won, wanting to survive, even as I wanted to die. At this point I didn’t know what I had left to live for. My mother would be dead in a couple of months, and the life I had built for myself was gone. The moment Alvin posted the videos on the Internet, I would be screwed. The whole world would know everything. My career would be over, and people would turn their backs on me—especially if they found out I was HIV-positive. The only place I would be welcome, the one place that would have me, was the grave. So why did I keep fighting?
I managed to eat half the sandwich, wincing with each bite from the pain in my jaw, and drank all the water left after he’d poured some of it on me. The water made me feel slightly better, but also nauseous. The taste of blood still clung to my tongue. I couldn’t help wondering if something inside me had ruptured.
Left with nothing else to do but think about my fate, I sat there. It didn’t take long before the door flew open again.
“You done?”
I didn’t speak. He flung something to the floor next to the mattress and picked up the tray. After he left, I looked to see what he had left behind. A bright white pill was hard to miss on the filthy f
loor. A painkiller? Poison? I would welcome either.
But it couldn’t be poison; he’d said himself he wasn’t done torturing me. It had to be for the pain.
I lifted the pill to my lips and placed it on my tongue. Without water, it would be a struggle to swallow, especially when my throat was already dry. I used my tongue to push the pill in the direction of my throat. It got stuck in the middle. I had no choice but to chew it, wincing at the bitterness. Then I swallowed and lay back, waiting for the next surprise.
Chapter Eighteen
A tear dropped from my eye into the ocean. It had been about a week since Alvin allowed me out on deck again. He had kept me inside my chamber, only bringing me my one daily meal and a pill. He never said a word to me, and I preferred it that way. He also didn’t demand another video shoot.
Being alone with my thoughts was hard. They tortured me every second.
Mostly, I thought about the virus I might be carrying. The idea of being infected and having no way of getting to a hospital for antiretroviral medication drove me into a pit of depression. I fought to climb out of it every day.
I was surprised when he came in today and told me to go for a walk on the deck.
Luckily, the wounds and aches were starting to heal, and I could walk, even if it was with a limp. The railing gave me support.
It felt so good to be outside again, breathing fresh air. I could smell that it would rain soon.
I made sure to walk past the bridge often. I wanted Jim to see my bruises, my pain, to see what Alvin was doing to me while he looked away. He never met my eye and his face remained stoic. This time I did not try to talk to him. I was in no mood for more pain, and I didn’t want to risk losing my moment of freedom.
Alvin watched my every move, his eyes daring me to do something stupid.
Despite the depression, my mind had somehow regained its fighting spirit, but I wouldn’t let him see that. I still had no idea what I was fighting for, but I didn’t want to die by Alvin’s hands.