by Cee Smith
The space on the left side of the bed felt hollow with his absence. I knew before I opened my eyes that he was gone. I lay still—the only sound breaking the silence was the grind of metal against metal as the chain slid around the pipe while I tried to find a comfortable position. My bladder pinched with the sudden urge to pee. I could only hope someone came for me soon.
It could have been hours or simply minutes, but being chained to the bed with nothing to occupy my mind was a certain form of torture. Thoughts of dripping faucets, waterfalls, and running showers played on an endless loop, and I was about ready to burst when Clema finally came in, releasing my wrists from the cuffs.
I went to the bathroom, got washed up, and when I padded back to his bed, there was a new set of clothes placed over the edge of the rustic footboard. I got changed quickly so I wasn’t late for breakfast and was mildly disappointed when Dominic wasn’t there. I kept looking up from the dining table while I ate, but he didn’t appear to be downstairs.
Clema sat in the chair directly across from mine. She wore her hair down, her soft curls dragging across the top of her shoulders as she moved. Her shirt was a pale yellow that somehow lessened the aged look of her skin and brought out the white of her hair. Before she was able to pick up her fork, I leaned into the table, shooting daggers with my eyes.
“How can you work for a man like that? You know he kidnapped me, don’t you?” I said with obvious disgust—with her or him I couldn’t tell at this point. My feelings were like a rolling wave, everything splashing together in the tumble.
“There are things you don’t know about Dominic,” she said politely. I hated how polite she always sounded; it grated on my nerves, as if we should still practice proper decorum around a known kidnapper, like he was the “manners police.”
“Like?” I was genuinely curious about any information she could give me regarding my captor. So far, all I knew was that he wanted me and would do anything to have me.
“It is not my place to say.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m sorry. When you get to know him better, you may think differently.” At least she sounded genuine when she apologized, but it didn’t really matter if she wasn’t willing to help me.
“That’s unlikely. May I go?”
“Of course. If you need anything, please let me know.”
“Unless it’s a way out, I won’t be needing anything else,” I said, rising from the chair. My words sounded as heavy as I felt.
I started to make my way through the archway of the dining room and made it just to the stairs before she spoke again. With her back to me she said, “Dominic shared with me that you enjoy swimming. There’s an indoor pool here in the house if you’d like to swim.” I didn’t respond, just turned and walked back up the stairs, throwing myself across the bed as I rehashed every means of escape.
***
I spent the rest of the afternoon hating myself for considering swimming in his pool; it felt too much like my old life—one that didn’t belong there. Not only that, but I was fearful that the moment I would submerge myself in water, my lungs would clam up, and I would drown from the memories of being taken. The image flashed in my mind so quickly, I barely had enough time to register it, let alone pay it any thought, but then the idea began to fester like the itch of a mosquito bite.
When I was younger, I read somewhere that it was physically impossible for one to purposely try to drown oneself—that the moment panic really began to set in your body would fight for its will to survive. I wondered if that was true. Especially now that I was prisoner in a home where everything I did was monitored, where the only freedoms I was shown were what rooms to whither away in.
So that was how I found myself downstairs in my captor’s basement in a white string bikini that showcased my newly acquired bronze tan, courtesy of Queensland, Australia.
The stairs to the basement were hidden behind one of the doors off the main hall. I took the spiral staircase down until I was at the bottom floor with a long stretch of hallway ahead of me. At the end of the hallway, I could see the light of the rippling water dancing off the walls, visible through the glass door. On the way to the pool enclosure were a few doors. I only looked in the ones that were open. One led to a small movie theater for twelve with a large screen and even a mini popcorn maker in the back. Another door opened to a library with floor to ceiling books with a wooden rolling ladder and scattered office furnishings. The last two doors opened to a small weight room and a game room. Dominic had everything one could think of to put inside a lavish home such as this. If I didn’t hate his home so much, I would have loved it.
Of course, the pool was my favorite, with its cerulean blue walls that looked as alive as the water that danced inside it. The tiles on the ground were an off-white color that felt warm beneath my bare feet. I looked at the pool and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t some kiddie pool that only went so deep as five feet; this one went as deep as seven feet. The dark blue water of the deep end evoked the same mysterious feeling as the rest of the house.
I walked to the edge swiping my foot through the still water resting atop the stair entrance. Once I was satisfied that the water was warm enough, I placed my towel and overthrow on a lounge chair set beside the pool and walked over to the edge of the deep end.
The water lapped at the edges of the pool, distorting the image of my body in its wake. There were mirrors in the house, but I felt it too vain to spend any real time looking in them. I didn’t want Dominic to think I was trying to look pretty for him, so when I saw the floating image of a girl with sun-kissed blonde hair with sharp cheekbones and hips and skinny arms, I was taken aback. I hadn’t dropped so much weight that I felt like I was swimming in my clothes, but I had noticed that my pants were a little loose. I just chalked that up to someone that dressed me that didn’t know my size. Dominic said he’d been watching me for a while. Did he notice that I had lost weight?
It didn’t matter. I took a couple steps back from the edge of the pool, stretching my arms above my shoulders. My elbows popped and shoulders creaked, releasing the tension of my stiff joints as I lifted up on my tippy toes. I took a shallow dive into the deep end, swimming as far with one breath as my legs and lungs could carry me. I made it a few feet from the stairs on the other side before I stood up, letting a gulp of air into my lungs while I pushed my hair back away from my face.
The water felt refreshing. I was afraid that the memory of my abduction was too new, that I wouldn’t be able to handle being so close to the event that led me here. I was afraid that the one thing that was as essential to me as breathing, was stolen; that I would succumb to a bout of panic, but all I felt was…free.
A rogue giggle escaped my lips. My hand jutted up from the water covering my mouth in shock. I looked at the glass door leading back to the hallway to make sure I was still alone. I was. Though I didn’t let another laugh pass my lips, I couldn’t suppress the grin that spread from ear to ear. I was happy—happier than I had any right to be in these circumstances. I tried not to think too much about it as I pushed through the water. Swimming back to the deep end, I folded my arms across the rim of the pool, peering out of the large window overlooking the side of the house.
I didn’t see that part of the house on the tour that Dominic led me on, and it was on the opposite side of where my room was, so this was my first time seeing this part of the house. The snow fell like fallen ashes of a dying pyre, sifting through the trees until meeting the bottom of the forest floor. I could see why there were so many windows everywhere. Watching snow fall was almost as beautiful as watching waves lap on a beach—just another reminder of the beauty of nature. I wondered what the summers looked like there, hoping I wouldn’t still be there to find out firsthand.
With that thought, I squinted my eyes looking out the window, trying to gain an idea of where the end of the property was, but it was too far away or the trees were too thick. I could barely see 100 ya
rds beyond the window. He wasn’t lying about how large the property was. I made a mental note to ask him to go outside again so I could get a better look at the surrounding area. I needed to be able to identify the house when I escaped, which wouldn’t be hard since the craftsmanship was so elaborate. Again, the thought of drowning crossed my mind, and I was curious enough to try it.
Unlike any other time I had dived beneath the water, I didn’t take a gulp of air to extend my time down below. I simply took an average breath and tipped my body down hands first so I could swim rapidly towards the bottom. Once I got there, I folded my legs up and sat down against the teal tiles, placing my hands on my knees as I watched the strands of my hair dance around me.
I felt the pressure in my ears first, like fingers plugging my ears with thumbs intending to crush my skull. I had never felt pressure so fast in my ears before. Maybe I was still getting over my decompression sickness. Tiny bubbles escaped my mouth, and I watched them travel in small groups to the surface. The tightness in my chest was the first sign that I was running out of my borrowed air—I fought the urge to gasp for air, instead pinching my lips in tighter. I tried focusing on my fingers, cracking the knuckles of one fist before the other, watching my toes wiggle in slow motion.
That would have been about the time that I would have kicked off from the bottom of the pool, racing to the top for air. It kind of felt like suffocating—like my eyes were bulging and my chest was concave from the air that had been expended on a wave of bubbles leaking to the surface. A headache stirred near my temples and behind my eyes. Do eyes bulge when you drown?
I couldn’t stop myself. I kicked up as hard as my feet would kick and pushed my frantic arms through the water that felt thicker as I tried to propel myself to the surface. I didn’t even make it to the surface before I took a breath in through my nose. The water burned its way through my sinuses. When I surfaced, I spluttered—all of the water that had burned its way through my head righteously burst from my lips. The edge of the pool held me up while I leaned all my weight onto the warm tiles that soothed my sore throat and throbbing skull.
I laid like that for a while, arms folded over the edge while the rest of my body was still treading through the water. It was a stupid idea anyway. I should have known it would be hard to drown myself—not that I really was trying to drown myself, but I knew it would never be a way out for me after my failed attempt.
Water was something that had never scared me. I had heard of drowning stories, but never once had any type of drowning incident ever happened to me. The closest I’d come to drowning was while surfing, when I would dive beneath a wave and come up to realize the wave hadn’t completely rolled over me yet, but that was in the early days. I was more seasoned now.
When my limbs felt recovered enough, I pulled myself out of the pool, lying stomach down before getting up and drying off. I took the time to look at the details of the room. The ceiling was bone white with five or six can lights and dark wood beams that ran the length of the pool. I found my way to the door and hit all the light switches. The can lights lit up just the surface of the pool while the other lights either lit up sconces on the walls or the strip of lights beneath the pool. I watched as those lights changed colors, moving through a rainbow assortment light display at the bottom of the pool.
The clock on the wall showed I only had twenty minutes before dinner, so I grabbed all of my things, throwing on my swimsuit cover, and hustled back up the stairs to dress. I discarded the clothes that were put out for me that morning, choosing to pick out something new to wear.
Once upstairs, I walked through his bedroom, into the closet. Rows of crisp collared shirts and pants adorned the walls. His closet was single-handedly one of the nicest closets I’d ever seen—with cherry colored armoires and luxurious woven carpet. In the center of the room, embedded in the fibers of the carpet, was a large letter C. I didn’t know what came over me, but moments later I found myself sitting on the floor of his closet tracing my fingers over the tuft of carpet with what I assumed was his initial. I wondered what it stood for.
I didn’t stay long after picking out some comfortable clothes—a long-sleeved Henley and vest and some jeans that were mirror-approved. When I went downstairs, dinner was already on the table, and Clema was already seated, but Dominic still wasn’t there.
“We’ll be dining alone, I take it?”
“Would you like some additional company?” she asked with a barely contained grin.
“No and in fact I’d rather eat without your company as well.”
“Very well.”
She grabbed her plate and disappeared into the kitchen. I ate as fast as I could, trying to escape back to my room for the few hours of solitude before being chained up in his bed again. By the time I made it up the stairs, there was already a set of pajamas on the end of the bed. I looked in the doorway of the closet and bathroom to see if anyone was still in the room, but the rooms were empty. Who puts the clothes on the bed and why can’t I pick out my own?
I grabbed the pajamas and went into the bathroom, changing immediately. I wouldn’t be forced to sleep naked in his bed again, not if I could help it. The only consolation I had was that Dominic seemed just as uncomfortable with my nudity as I was with being on display for him.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep in his bed. After dressing, I spent a little time alone in the pastel green room before moving into his bed. The clicking sound of the cuffs around my wrists was what woke me. I opened my eyes to see Dominic standing over me. He latched the last cuff and placed his palm against my cheek. His eyes were as tender as the knuckle he dragged from my cheekbone down to the cliff of my jaw. “Your obedience pleases me,” he said with sparkling eyes I couldn’t blink away from.
I didn’t immediately respond. Instead, I watched as he walked past the bed, taking his shirt off, exposing the taut muscles of his back. His body was something to admire—the way his muscles flexed and rippled as his shirt cleared his head and when he walked. He disappeared into the closet and when he came back out, he caught me looking at the planes of his chest. Realizing my mistake, I rolled over so my back was facing his side of the bed, in order to avoid looking at his body again.
There was something that was perpetually bothersome about the way he acted around me, when he chose to actually come around. I had asked him back in that concrete cell what he wanted and he had said, “You,” but I still wasn’t sure what he meant by that. I’d seen the way he looked at me, sometimes with a hateful hunger, other times with fondness, but every look was so fleeting that I couldn’t get a clear picture of who this man was or what his intentions were. I’d seen public service announcements about sexual slavery in which American women were sold to whorehouses in poor countries because Americans were seen as exotic. Whatever his intentions, I couldn’t allow myself to become one of those girls. I’d sooner die than allow myself to become someone’s commodity.
“You think too loud, matakia mou. Ask your questions.” His voice was a soft caress to my ears, and more than anything I wanted him to continue speaking, but I had my questions. “What did ‘matakia mou’ mean,” was another question that would be added to the list, to be asked at a later date.
I rolled over so that I was facing him, “Dominic, before you said you wanted—”
“You,” he cut me off. I nodded my head so I didn’t have to repeat the word that left me more stripped than I was lying there in his bed the night before.
“Wha-what did you mean by that?” I swallowed, my throat feeling like sandpaper gritting against the lining. He tipped my chin so that I met his eyes, and with that movement, I realized I had been staring at his chest again.
“What do you think it means, Hailey?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know what you’re into, but please don’t sell me. I won’t survive it.”
“I can do whatever I want with you, but…you don’t have to worry about me selling you. You’re mine to keep.” He said that like he was a
little boy whose parents just told him he could have a pony. His eyes were dazzling, and I was sure at any moment he would begin petting my hair like he liked to do. I nodded my head, content with his response. He seemed genuine when he said he wouldn’t sell me, but that still didn’t explain why he hadn’t really touched me yet.
“It’s just…you haven’t, you know…” I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head before continuing, “so I want to know what you plan to do with me,” I finished in a rush of breath. He continued watching me with a look of amusement on his face.
“Your innocence is refreshing. You’d be surprised by how many women your age are out there whoring themselves for free. What is it you’d like from me, little one? If it’s something you want, you’re going to have to ta—”
I cut him off with the brush of my lips. He pulled back, and I followed suit, taking in his beady eyes now wide in shock and his mouth still hanging open. Whatever this man was, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not really, but I knew I couldn’t entirely trust him either. I didn’t really know what came over me that urged me to push forward and kiss him. My mind had shut down and my body had propelled me forward until my lips gently touched his. Everything about being with him felt right. If I thought about it, there were alarms ringing signaling to abort, but I was tired of thinking. Maybe this was my way of gaining some semblance of control, or maybe I simply wanted to feel his lips against mine again.
Scooting closer until my arms were extended and my body hovered close to his, I looked him in the eyes as I pushed my face forward again. He took my mouth with a speed much quicker than mine, and I moaned into his mouth. His mouth was warm, seeming to relax my whole body with just the touch of his lips. One arm swung out across my hip, pulling me flush with his body while the other pushed against my clavicle. It was like he was holding me down and keeping me from getting too close, all with one touch.