A Bedtime Story

by L. C. Moon

  “I love wolves, I always have,” Laura said simply, her voice childlike, at the end of the story. The next night, she asked Olga to retell her the story of Alexei and Aniska.

  Following that night, Olga established their new routine. Every morning, she would drag Laura out of bed and bring her to the solarium. They had never gone there before, she’d barely shown it to her. It was Elena Malkin’s domain, and like so many traces of her, it was shut out and forgotten.

  It was really a beautiful place, though a pale comparison to what it had been in its glory day. Olga thought Laura would like this place. In so many ways, she reminded her of Mrs. Malkin, and she frowned inwardly at the association.

  Olga spent the days doing her crochet, talking about everything and nothing, telling funny anecdotes she remembered from childhood, back in her homeland, her Russia. She even made Laura’s lips widen into a sort of a smile a few times, though her gaunt eyes foretold of the long battle ahead to recovery.

  They would have their breakfast together there. Laura would only nibble on hers, shivering away regardless of the warm weather and layers of clothes. Olga would cover her with the thickest comforter she could find. Sometimes they would just sit together silently, comfortable and comforted by each other.

  It took a few days for Laura to begin participating in conversations, dropping sentences randomly here and there. In response to another one of Olga’s fond childhood memories involving a mischievous dog the family had, Laura just said, “We had one when I was really young, but after my mom left, my father got rid of him. He didn’t like dogs.”

  Laura didn’t mention that the dog crate, however, remained. She wondered if Kayne had told Olga about it. He hadn’t. She had gone over that night in her head over and over again. She wanted to believe him; he had given her his word. He had never lied, he hadn’t lied in other circumstances where he easily could have. But the coincidence was too much. Then she thought maybe Peter had become aware they were on to him, noticed the men who had tracked him down to Chicago. The men she had led to him. Maybe she was the one who killed him. Or maybe it just got too much. Maybe the darkness that always gnawed at her had greedily swallowed him. Was it really that surprising? She rubbed a faded scar on her wrist unconsciously. Maybe it was just the Spencer curse, she thought. The Spencers, they would be no more. Peter’s death ensured it. She recalled her father’s comment when he found out about her infertility: Good. You should be celebrating! Spencers… rotten blood. I told your mother she should have aborted you. Damn bitch was so stubborn… She had thought her father cruel at the time, but always she forgave him. She knew of his own hard childhood, of the abuse he survived, denounced, and, so unwittingly, reproduced. The Spencers, the cursed. For the first time, she understood her father, and she felt relief at knowing her family line would die out with her.

  Olga, for her part, obviously treasured her family and to this day fought back tears when reminiscing about her time in Russia. For all the heartfelt memories she willingly shared of her childhood, she remained suspiciously evasive about all that followed when she reached Canada as a young teenager.

  Laura had tried asking her about her time with the Malkins, but Olga proved as equally secretive. She admitted to being with the family long before Kayne’s birth, but she wouldn’t go into any detail. But she did confirm Laura’s suspicions. Olga was no fool, she was well aware of the family business and knew of the life Kayne lived. She was quick, however, to add that light and darkness existed in all of us. To support her statement, she reluctantly offered her one personal secret Laura could never have suspected.

  Olga was homeless when Lev Malkin found her. He took pity on his fellow countrywoman and took her under his wing, offering her shelter and employment. She had been young and beautiful once, and men preyed so easily on the defenseless. Master Malkin hadn’t and for that alone earned her loyalty. Years later, when she was in her thirties, a man she didn’t know had come to the house on business. Master Malkin rarely mixed family and business, but it was an emergency, and this man was sent to retrieve a package instead of the usual pick-up guy. He had leered at her openly all night and made vulgar comments out of earshot. Master Malkin had finally asked her to show him out when the business was concluded. But the man forced her into a corner on his way out, the moment they were alone. He had forced her mouth shut and legs open. Master Kayne had witnessed the scene, came at him like a madman, and he stopped him. He was only sixteen then.

  Master Malkin didn’t give his son grief about it; they got rid of the body. The Malkins looked after their own. They instilled fear to ensure obedience but knew only gratitude could earn loyalty.

  Day-26

  Kayne sat alone in his office pensive. Olga gave him daily updates on Laura. He looked forward to them. The truth was he missed her company, her shy glances, and her inquisitive ones. He missed her bashful smiles, her nervous chatter. He even missed her annoying curiosity. He was passing by the solarium one day and heard laughter, actual laughter. He envied Olga in that moment.

  That night he made another call where he was particularly cruel, and the following night, and the night after that. He whipped and caned mercilessly, made them cry, made them beg, and made them come. He came too but found no release.

  Day-30

  Laura had heard, night after night, the clicking of heels. She had wept bitterly in her pillows, knowing Kayne was having sex with another woman at that very moment. She had no tears left. She felt the change in her, however subtle. From the shadows, she didn’t return fully the same. She never did. Every now and then, since she was a little girl, from the cage to Peter’s suicide, darkness would claim her but never keep her. Even when she went willingly. Every time she returned, a little piece of her was lost. She was done crying.

  She wondered about her puzzling captor who treated Olga so kindly, who had protected her, killed for her. Her captor who hurt women for pleasure, who killed and tortured for a living. Her captor who terrified her, who fascinated her, who captured her, in every sense. She hadn’t seen him since that night, when he got back and changed her life forever. Didn’t he always? From their very first encounter, he took her freedom. Then he took her body, turning it against her. Then he took Peter. She wondered what else he could take from her, if she even had anything left worth taking.

  She asked Olga that day if he would be home for supper. He would. Her heart beat faster as she asked if it was okay if she joined. It was, Olga assured her happily.

  ***

  In her usual jeans and a soft pink top, leaving her hair loose, she nervously went to meet him. He was already seated, staring at her, his expression unreadable as she hesitantly pulled the chair facing him.

  “Hi…”

  He nodded in response, his sealed lips even more telling of his murky mood. They remained in silence, their eyes locked on each other as he reached over and served them.

  “I believe you…” she finally said in her softest voice, her eyes fixing the plate in front of her.

  He didn’t answer, keeping his eyes on her, scrutinizing her.

  “What happened to his… body? Is it just… rotting there?” She looked up to meet his gaze, her voice quavering as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “No. The state provided for the funeral,” he finally said, his eyes softening.

  “Oh… I was just hoping to say good-bye…” Her voice broke, and a few tears rolled down her cheek, which she quickly dried off with the back of her hand.

  He kept looking at her, not saying anything.

  Her voice went steady then, her eyes fixing far ahead into a nonexistent distance. “I tried it once… when I was sixteen. He had started doing the harder stuff. Sometimes he’d be gone for days. This one time he didn’t return for two weeks. I was freaking out. I wouldn’t leave the house. I was so scared that I’d miss him when he came back. I stopped going to work. I didn’t go to school anymore. I’d literally run to the store when I needed something and run back home. I ju
st knew he’d come back for me, you know?” She shook her head, hurt in her eyes.

  “At least for my birthday… he never missed my birthdays, no matter what. I even baked a cake and everything.” She chuckled bitterly. “I waited ’til midnight. When he didn’t come back… I slit my wrist. On my sweet sixteen.” She finally looked up at him, offering a sad smile that didn’t belong to a twenty-three-year-old. “But he did come back for me. He found me. He saved me… And I didn’t. I didn’t save him… I didn’t…” She choked, tears rushing down her cheeks.

  Before she knew it, he was by her side, pulling her up into his embrace. He held her close, rubbing her back, running his fingers gently in her hair while she sobbed uncontrollably against his strong, comforting chest. They hadn’t been so close in a long time. She could feel him all around her, warming her, calming her. She remembered how good it felt; she just wanted to close her eyes and get lost in him, disappear completely into him, and have him carry the load that was to be Laura Spencer.

  He waited for her sobs to fade, her breathing to slow, then pulled her away just a little. He grabbed her wrist and lifted its palm facing up, where a little faded scar could still be seen.

  “You will never try this again,” he commanded her, his voice assertive though not harsh, his eyes boring into hers.

  She returned his gaze, studying his expression, and took a few seconds before slowly nodding her head.

  “Good.” A faint smile crossed his face. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her scarred wrist.

  Day-31

  Laura awoke to a peculiarly excited Olga, carrying a picnic basket into her room.

  “How about breakfast outside today?” She lifted the basket, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, Laura was not sure how to respond.

  “But… Olga…”

  “Master Kayne said it was okay. Actually it was his idea,” she affirmed as a proud mother.

  “Are you sure…?” Laura had learned too long ago the truth behind the adage If it’s too good to be true… Even if that meant taking fifty steps out the entrance.

  Olga nodded confidently, her smile growing even wider. “Come on, let’s go. It’s a beautiful day.”

  They set a red checkered blanket on the grass by a weeping willow tree. The security guards left them on their own. Laura had brought The Kite Runner, intent on finishing it. Olga had her crochet, weaving an impossibly intricate design she’d been working on for as long as Laura could remember. She constantly undid whatever advancement she had just achieved, muttering through gritted teeth in Russian. But she was a stubborn woman, waving Laura off dismissively when she had suggested choosing another design.

  Laura sat in silence, unable to read, just taking in the moment. It truly was a beautiful day. She felt the sun on her face, the warm breeze dance in her hair. She took off her shoes and rubbed her feet in the grass and she smiled gratefully, tearing up with emotion. In that moment, she was happy. She wondered if she had the right to be; she shrugged her shoulders in response. Sometimes, particularly in those times, a moment of clarity would come to her. Past the pain, past the despair, she would reach a place where nothing could hurt her anymore, and she felt only submerged in a feeling of inner peace. This time, it came in the shape of a green leaf carried by a warm breeze, falling gracefully to the earth as the sun shone behind it, of the same warm breeze that played with her hair, made her shirt flutter against her skin and the grass wiggle wildly under her feet. In this moment, she got it, the secret. They stayed outside all day, watched the sunset with glasses of red wine under warm blankets, content. It was past seven when they headed back to the house. They crossed paths with Kayne who was deep in conversation with Lucas, on their way up the stairs. Lucas was speaking to him in a hushed tone, waving his hands about excitedly, when Kayne stopped, turning to Laura without saying a word. She held his stare, a modest smile on her lips as she mouthed Thank you. Without openly smiling back, he nodded, slowly, his eyes conveying the understanding they shared in that moment.

  Day-37

  Laura had gone outside every day since. Even on rainy days. She hadn’t been with Kayne since their last supper and felt a rush when Olga came to fetch her outside to advise her that Master Kayne was inside and would like to see her.

  He was dressed in a silver suit, looking dashing as he sat on their sofa. Laura felt silly in her denim short shorts and purple T-shirt. There was a familiar-looking carton box, gift wrapped with a ribbon, on the table, and her heart beat a little faster at the memory.

  “Hey…” He leered at her exposed skin, grinning mischievously. “Hi…” She smiled nervously, her eyes fixated on the box.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m okay… you?”

  He smiled, tapping his palm on the arm of the La-Z-Boy, motioning her to sit. She did, her eyes constantly reverting to the box, terrified at what it could mean.

  “Laura.” He waited for her eyes to rest on him before he went on. “Would you like to accompany me to a wedding?”

  She was stunned. “I don’t understand… You’re not taking me to a party…?”

  He shook his head, smirking, but kindly, the way only he could. “A wedding… like outside?” she asked, still feeling suspicious.

  He nodded.

  Her eyes brightened up at the thought. Outside, she would leave this house. “Yes… definitely yes!” She smiled again, a smile he had been forbidden for too long, genuine, warm, and meant for him. He picked up the box from the table and handed it to her. She smiled coyly at him, at the déjà vu. Opening it, she found a gorgeous long ocean blue chiffon dress, strapless with a sweetheart neckline.

  “It’s beautiful… Thank you…” She held it close to her chest, smiling away.

  Kayne watched her silently, taking in her radiant smile, her childish joy. He had kidnapped her, locked her up, made her cry and beg, and had enjoyed every second of it. And now watching her smile, he realized just how much he reveled at being the cause of it. Her tears made him want to do things to her, her smile made him want to do things for her. He didn’t know which he liked more.

  He got off his seat and, caressing her cheek, informed her to be ready at three sharp. She stayed in her seat long after he left, feeling dejected and confused as she realized her disappointment at not having to try on the dress for him. In front of him. Did he not want her anymore? She caught herself worrying.

  She showed up at three, her hair up in an elegant bun, donning drop diamond earrings and silver sandals. She got the reaction she wanted. She felt her insides swarm with excitement. She was leaving the house, with Kayne, as his date.

  He offered her his arm, and as they reached the door, he took her hand and pulled out a jewelry box, which he deposited in her open palm. She lifted a brow in question to which he responded by nudging his head toward the box.

  It contained a diamond platinum bracelet. It was perfect, so simple and so beautiful.

  “Thank you…” Laura breathed, unsure what else to say.

  He smirked, turned it around, and showed her the engraving, From Your Monster.

  She didn’t react. She stared at him, just fighting the urge to lean and kiss him, her Monster. He would’ve let her, she knew he would have. But she couldn’t muster the courage, so she stared, trying to communicate what her body couldn’t, knowing he could read her mind, hoping he could read her mind.

  He didn’t lean in. He took the bracelet out of the box and put it on her, securing the elegant screw that held together this unusually beautiful design.

  “There, now you can’t take it off… even if you want to,” he cautioned teasingly.

  ***

  They took a private jet there. Laura threw him side glances the whole way, trying to read him, to pick up anything and decipher the puzzle that was Kayne Malkin. She didn’t know what to think. Who was this man? Who was the man that held her life in his hands? Every now and then, he would catch her stare, and he would shake his head at her, a knowing smile advising her to gi
ve up the futile quest.

  The wedding was quite an elegant affair. It was set outside in a big green open space, the blue sea for a backdrop. There was security everywhere, important celebrities, men and women dressed as royalty. Kayne introduced Laura around, keeping close to her, his eyes locked on her when she wasn’t on his arm.

  Mrs. Drugova had lured her to the group of women chatting away by the bar. Natasha Drugova was the matriarch and left no doubt about it. She had maintained her beauty, her distinction shining through her posture and elegance, her piercing gaze only contrasted by her indulgent but reserved smiles. Laura didn’t want to leave Kayne, feeling nervous at being surrounded by strangers. But Natasha Drugova had a reassuring authority about her, and Laura had followed her obediently, though she looked back often and found Kayne staring back at her, every time. She would smile at him, feeling safe under his enveloping gaze.

  The women relentlessly questioned her, about her, about Kayne, about their relationship. She became nervous, trying to stay vague, which only heightened their curiosity. Apparently, she was very different from his previous dates.

  Mrs. Drugova smiled somewhat compassionately at her before pulling her away. “Shall we take a walk…” It wasn’t a question; it was a polite order. She started walking away before Laura even answered.