“No!” Injuries forgotten, Sophie rolled off the bed, hitting the ground on her side and jarring every nerve on the way. The pain was inconsequential compared to the horror of seeing Spencer taken from her as the shadow drove the blade into Spencer’s body again and again.
“Stop!” she sobbed. “Spencer!”
The shadow straightened, keeping its back to her. Sophie tried to crawl to Spencer, she was so close. His name slashed from her esophagus in animalistic wails. But he never even moved.
She reached for the fingers on the hand closest to her when the shadow moved, spinning around. She wasn’t quick enough to pull away when his hands shot out and closed around her arm, twisting it around until she cried out. She tried to fight, to scream, but he held tight as something sharp punctured the skin on her upper arm. The world blurred around the edges. It faded. Sight, sound and texture melted away until she was swimming in darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Consciousness was swimming through a pool of milk. Everything blurred and hummed and the world was blindingly white. It took a great deal of effort to pry her eyes open without squinting around tears. Her body ached. It wasn’t the pleasant sort of ache one got after a thorough work out. It was the pain of falling down a jagged cliff side, into a volcano. Everything hurt, including the process of thinking.
She was in her room, but it wasn’t her room. It was her bed with its floral bedspread and the shelves her father built for her stuffed teddies. It was next to the bookshelf full of all her favorite books and her dresser but that’s where it stopped.
Her door was missing. In its place was a slab of metal. On the other side of it was her desk, her lamp, but the window was gone. Her beige walls were gone. Her ceiling and floors were gone. The place was cold, concrete with little square windows high out of reach crossed with iron bars.
God, where am I?
She tried to sit up, only to nearly double over as the pain tore into her side. She gasped, clutching her side. She wore a white nightgown, beneath it she could feel stiff padding where gauze stretched over her skin.
“Hold still, Sophie.”
The voice came from above her head, the one place she was unable to see. But she recognized the voice.
“Joe?”
Carefully, as if trying not to scare her, he edged into view, dressed head to toe in black. “Hey, Sophie.”
Confusion hammered against her skull as she fought to understand what was happening. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe,” he told her, settling down on the edge of her bed, so careful not to jostle her. “How are you feeling?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I hurt and my head hurts. What happened?”
“You had an accident.” Gingerly, he hooked a finger around the sheets covering her and began tugging them down.
She snatched it back up, pulling it higher to her chin. “What are you doing?”
“I want to check your stitches,” he said as though it were the most natural thing in the world to say.
“My … what?” She wasn’t quick enough to stop him when he tore the sheets away. “Hey! Stop!” She tried to fight him when he started jerking the hem of her gown up. But he easily swatted her hands away.
“Don’t fuss,” he scolded. “You have nothing I haven’t already seen.”
“What?” she gasped, horrified by the absolute blankness on his face. “What are you doing? Stop that!” The fabric tore as it was roughly pulled, exposing her. “Joe! Stop it!”
He ignored her screams, her thrashing, her fists striking him in the shoulders and chest. He ignored her soft crying and the tears now trickling down her face. He ignored her naked flesh as he gently peeled away the tape keeping the gauze in place at her waist.
“We’ll change the covering in a few more hours,” he said simply, pulling her dress and sheets back around her.
Sobbing, she scuttled as far from him as was possible between the pain and the wall on the other side. “What is wrong with you? What the hell are you doing?”
He stared at her for several heartbeats, confusion furrowing his brows. “I’m trying to help you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You got yourself cut pretty badly last night. Luckily for you, I’ve been around a few open wounds. I was able to stitch you back up.”
“What are you talking about?” she screamed.
He opened his mouth as if to respond, but seemed to think better of it. “You must be hungry.” He rose up and walked over to the desk.
“I’m not hungry! Tell me what … ” The memories plowed into her like a six ton truck. The impact was so violent, her empty stomach heaved, soiling her gown, the sheets and pillows.
Joe was there in an instant. “It’s all right. This is normal. You’re just in shock. We’ll clean you up.”
Deftly, he stripped away her blanket and removed the pillowcases off the pillows. He left everything in a pile on the floor as he reached for her. He crooned soft things as he hoisted her gown up over her head. He used a clean section to gently wipe her mouth before moving to the dresser.
“Where’s Spencer?” The words caught in her throat, wheezing out in a half moan, half sob. “Where is he?”
Joe returned with a fresh gown. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” he said, drawing the material over her head. “He can’t hurt you here.”
“You hurt me!”
He shook his head. “I would never hurt you. I only want to keep you safe.”
“By stabbing me? By stabbing Spa … Spencer?” Her voice broke. “You kidnapped me from my home!”
“I didn’t mean to cut you,” he insisted. “I was aiming for him, but you moved and I had to take you. You can’t be trusted to take care of yourself. You’ve made too many wrong decisions.” He shook his head vehemently. “You don’t know what’s good for you, Sophie. I do. I’m going to take care of you and make sure nothing happens to you.”
“What are you talking about?” she cried.
“Well look at everything that’s happened!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms open wide. “Look at all the mistakes you made. Look at all the times you got hurt or nearly killed. If someone had been there, guiding you, telling you the right things to do, none of those things would have happened.”
“You’re crazy! None of those things were my fault!”
“I know.” He sat next to her on the stripped bed. “It was his fault. I warned you about him. I told you, you were making a mistake. I tried to tell you how I felt. If you had picked me … instead, you lied to me. You humiliated me. Why would you do that?”
“What are you talking about? I have been nothing but a friend to you! I told you—”
“You told me you wanted me to go with you to the dance. I went to the school. I waited for you for five hours, Sophie! You never even showed up! I called Jessie and she tells me you were never even going to go!”
“I never said I would go with you!”
“Yes, you did!”
“No, I didn’t! I said I wanted you to come.”
His face burned a frightening red. “You’re lying! You told me you wanted me there!”
“I did! As a friend!”
With a howl more animal than human, he lunged off the bed. “You’re lying!” he roared. “Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not!”
With a vicious growl, he drew back a leg and kicked the frame of the bed. Sophie screamed as pain rocketed throughout her body from her stitches.
“You have done nothing but string me along for years!” he snarled, pressing his hands on the mattress and leaning in close. “You didn’t think I saw what you were doing? You used me, leading me on to believe that there was a chance you would finally see me and not some pathetic loser. But you never did, do you? You chose Rowth over me. Me! I have done everything for you!”
“That wasn’t—”
But he was turning away, scooping up her filthy bedding and storming to the metal door. I
t swung open with a scream. It closed with a resounding bang behind him. She heard the jingle of keys, the snick of a lock and then silence.
Sophie lay immobilized for who knows how long, staring at the ocean of concrete above her, wondering if it was all a disturbed dream. She prayed with all her might, against the little voice prodding to the contrary, that she would wake up, snuggled up in Spencer’s arms. She wished for nothing more than her bed and safety and reason. Nothing was making sense and the not knowing destroyed her.
She was still lying there when the door opened and Joe reentered, holding a fresh stack of bedding. He walked over to the desk and set everything down before walking over to her.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he said, back to the normal Joe she knew. “But you’ll learn not to anger me. Things will be much easier if you just listen, okay? Now, we’re going to change your sheets and then you’re going to eat.”
“Where’s Spencer?” she demanded.
It was costing him to remain calm; she noted when his nostrils flared. “I told you not to worry about that.”
“Is he alive?” she pressed. “Let me go! You can’t keep me here! Why are you doing this?”
“Shut up!” His hands flew up to his head, as if her rapid firing was giving him a headache. He gouged the heels of his hands into his temples.
She dropped her voice. “Please, Joe! Don’t do this. My parents will be so worried. Think about Lauren and Jessie! This will devastate them!”
“Shut up I said!” he growled through his teeth. His hands dropped away. “That’s the first thing we need to work on! You need to learn to listen.”
He stormed over to the desk and began yanking cases onto the pillows. It should have been impressive how quickly he remade the bed without ever taking her off it.
“Joe, please, you can’t keep—” The slap sent her ears ringing. The right side of her face instantly went numb and her eye felt like it had popped out of her skull with the blow.
“I told you to shut up!” he barked, punctuating the last two words through his teeth. Then, his face transformed. It softened. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sophie … ” He sighed with regret when he reached for her and she flinched. “Don’t do that. I’m sorry. You just … you need to listen.” He sat on the lip of the bed. “Let me see.” He pushed back strands of hair off her face. His fingers grazed the angry and swollen flesh, stamped with his handprint. “I’ll get you some ice, okay?”
Sophie didn’t respond. She remained frozen as his fingers traced her jawline and worked their way up to her lips. Nausea broiled in her gut and her ears rang for another reason at the dark, hungry look in his eyes.
“I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t your first,” he said softly. “I had hoped I would be, but I’m glad I wasn’t.”
The sickness was more pronounced now as his words sunk home. “You were watching us?”
He had the grace to avert his eyes. “I was going to make my move sooner, before he touched you, but I started thinking.” His gaze moved over her throat towards the dip in her collarbone. “I’ve been waiting for so long to finally have you that there was no way I would have been that gentle with you. And despite what you might think, I really don’t want to hurt you and I won’t if you don’t make me.”
There was nothing in her stomach this time but bile. Her stomach muscles heaved, ripping at the stiches as her body protested his touch, his words.
“Get away from me!” she screamed around each assault.
Joe just sighed, getting to his feet. “We’ll wait to feed you. You clearly can’t handle food right now.” He walked over to a metal seat bolted into the wall next to a small cupboard and plucked something up. Sophie watched with growing horror as he unraveled a roll of toilet paper and walked back. The seat, she realized, was a toilet. “Now lie still while I clean you up.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
There were pictures, a collage of her life wallpapering the entire wall above the bed. It was all she was forced to see when she used the toilet. It was there, every moment of her life, captured, frozen, stolen! Her life had been stolen and used to decorate this horrible place, this torture chamber, her prison! It oozed from the slab of concrete, a grotesque window into a private world that was hers.
“What is this?” She whipped around as best she could without sending rivers of agony slithering through her body. It was more of a hobble, like an old person, crippled by age and arthritis.
Joe stared at the images of her on her bike, her father behind her, smiling proudly and showing her how two wheels worked, her at the mall with Lauren and Jessie, laughing over ice cream, her in class, chewing on her pencil.
“Where did you get these?” she was screaming now. “Where did you get these? Have you been spying on me?”
He said nothing, but the glint behind his eyes, the sick shimmer of pride said everything.
“You’re sick! You’re sick!” Her bunched fists slammed into his chest. “You’re disgusting!”
In a motion that she never saw coming, he grabbed both her wrists in one of his large hands and yanked, sending her tumbling into his chest. The jarring assault nearly crippled her as the area around her stitches burned with such intensity, she couldn’t breathe. The harsh scent of mint raked over her face as he snarled down at her.
“You made me do this, Sophie! You forced me. I had no choice.”
Angry, bitter tears boiled in her eyes. They fell, but she kept glaring up at him. “You’re sick!” she hissed.
There was no gentleness, no care for her injuries when he tossed her like a bag of waste onto the bed. She had no breath in her to scream. The world popped with red blisters of pain and all she could do was curl into herself, willing her side to remain together even as she felt the bandage dampen beneath her dress.
“You’re sick,” she heard him sneer. “You’re the twisted one who likes to play with people’s heads. You’ll learn your place soon enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Where am I?” she asked a few days later.
“Somewhere safe.”
“Will you let me go?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
He shrugged. “Whenever you start making the changes.”
“What changes?”
His smile was so much like the old Joe’s, she nearly cried. “I can’t tell you that. I’ll know when I see them.”
“Where’s Spencer?”
His smile faded. He sighed with exasperation. “You know what your problem is, Sophie? You’re a spoiled bitch. You’re so used to getting everything you want that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to fight for what’s important. I mean, look how hard I worked to get you here. This room didn’t build itself! I did that. It had to go through a ton of work before it was ready for you. But do I hear a single thank you from you? No.”
“Where’s Spencer?” she croaked. “Where is he?”
With a disgusted sneer, he rose out of his chair and left her alone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Joe, please let me go.”
“You’re not ready.”
“Please!”
Another spoonful of broth was brought to her lips.
“Open!” he commanded when she didn’t.
“How long has it been?” she asked instead.
He took the opportunity and poured the salty concoction down her throat. “A few weeks.”
Her heart sank. “Is anyone looking for me?”
His hand stilled from scooping more soup and he glanced at her. “But they won’t find you, Sophie.”
It wasn’t an answer, but it gave her hope. Her parents were looking for her. They would find her! They wouldn’t stop.
“Where’s Spencer?” she asked, as she asked every single chance she got.
The bowl went soaring. It shattered into a million pieces against the far wall. Soup trickled down the concrete slab.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Your stitches are almost all dissolved,” he said as he changed her wrappings. “You can get out of bed soon. Won’t that be nice?”
Sophie said nothing. She lay rigid, staring at the wall on her right, praying he would just leave already.
He drew her nightgown down around her legs, tucked her beneath the sheets. “You can’t ignore me forever.”
Watch me! She thought, hands balling at her sides.
Joe sighed as if her defiance was nothing more than a child’s act for attention. “Okay, maybe you could. You were always so stubborn.” He took her hand, tightening his grip when she tried to jerk free. “But you won’t because you have too many questions.”
She did. So many. But what was the point when he refused to tell her the important ones?
“Okay, how about this, ask me any question, but—” he said when her head whipped around, her mouth already open. “That one.”
She snapped her mouth shut and turned her face back towards the wall.
“You mean you don’t want to know how the search for you is going or if they’re close, or how Lauren and Jessie are doing? I see them in school every day or have you forgotten what it means to be a friend? You didn’t seem to care when you just abandoned them to those guys who were after you, but wasted no time saving your own neck.”
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to play this twisted game of his. It had become cruel. He had become cruel. He wasn’t the same Joe she’d grown up with. Her Joe had never deliberately gone out of his way to bring her down, to hurt her, to make her feel trapped and alone. Her Joe had never mocked her when she cried or used it against her. But it had become a source of amusement for him now. Like if he broke her enough, she would give in.
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