by M. S. Parker
Quixotic.
Lackadaisical.
Ambiance.
Chivalrous.
People were always surprised at that last one, like no one ever thought about chivalry anymore. I supposed it was as dead as everyone said. Dead as I wished he was.
But he wasn’t dead.
Green nudged me. It was my turn to pick a word.
Eight letters.
Red chose E.
Two of those.
Yellow chose R.
Three of those and now the end of the word was there.
“Cheaters.” I glared at them. “You’re in cahoots.”
Cahoots was a great word too. Maybe I should’ve picked that one.
Brown guessed the word was murderer and laughed when I called it names.
“You can pretend all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m inside you, girl. You have my blood, and you can’t get away from it.”
I shook my head and picked another word. Red said I couldn’t take another turn. I told him to fuck himself and went anyway.
“You’re going to destroy everyone you love. Kill them like I killed the ones I loved. That’s why I didn’t kill you, you know. Because I didn’t love you. I loved your mother, and I killed her.”
My head whipped around, and I pointed at him. “No. You don’t get to say that.”
I saw the knife, and then he raised it, ran toward me, and I couldn’t run away. I raised my arms over my head and screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
The door opened, and I kept screaming because he was cutting me, sawing into me, breaking me.
Then a pinch and the colors came back again, soft and warm. Comforting.
I stopped screaming.
Five
Time was passing too fast, and I hadn’t done anything yet. Sometimes there was food, and sometimes I ate it. Nothing fancy. Sometimes cereal or toast. Sometimes peanut butter and fruit. Once there was some soup, but the peas in it sang, and I couldn’t eat them. It was my favorite song. I sang with them for a while, but I sang quietly because if I wasn’t quiet, the angry man came and told me that things would be bad if I made any noise.
I didn’t like the angry man. The scrawny man was better, not because he was nice, but because he didn’t say anything at all. Then, someone new came in. He was younger than the other two. Close to my age, maybe a year or two, younger. He was different, and not just because of his age. His face was soft, like he hadn’t seen or done as much as the other two. The thing that really stood out, though, was the expression in his dark eyes when he looked at me.
Pity.
I never thought I’d be happy to see someone pity me. I could use that, I realized.
Looking the way I did, I doubted a seduction would have worked. But if I could play the damsel in distress, maybe I could appeal to his inner white knight. He didn’t seem jaded enough to question my sincerity. If he hadn’t been one of my kidnappers, I might have felt guilty.
The next time he came in, I smiled at him. Not a sexy sort of smile, but the kind that said I was grateful for the smallest kindness. His eyes caught mine, and he smiled back. A part of me wanted to move right now, but I knew I needed to wait. I needed a clear head, and for that, I needed these drugs out of my system.
Which meant I needed to convince my white knight that I was harmless and no longer needed the drugs. When he set down the plate and cup, I cowered against the wall.
“Please, don’t hurt me. I promise I’ll be good.” To my shame, the quiver in my voice was real.
When he pulled the syringe from his pocket, I let out a whimper. That’s when I saw it. The glimmer of the doubt about what he’d been told to do.
“I don’t need that anymore. I won’t scream. Please don’t make me take it.” I wrapped my arms tight around my body and shivered. “It makes me see things. Scary things. Last time, I started screaming and…” I swallowed hard before I continued, “that’s when he hit me.”
The young man frowned. “He hit you?”
I sniffled and nodded. I put my hand to my cheek, wincing as if it still hurt. I didn’t need to fake how tender my ribs still were, only let it show on my face. I needed to be careful not to overplay my hand. If I pushed too much, I’d lose him and never get out.
“I have to give it to you. It’s my job.” He cast a furtive glance at the door behind him. “You don’t know what they’ll do to me if I don’t.”
I wanted to snap back that I knew damn well what they do to him because I’d been on the receiving end of one of Serge’s punishments. At least he had the freedom to choose whether to stay. I couldn’t say any of that, though, because I needed him on my side.
“Please,” I begged. “Maybe only give me a little. If anyone notices, you can say you didn’t want me to overdose. They might think you’re playing it safe, but they won’t be mad.”
I held my breath as I watched him consider the idea. It wasn’t the best possibility, but at least it was something. After a moment, he nodded.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ll give you half a dose. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to keep away anything scary.”
“Thank you,” I said breathlessly. “Thank you so much.”
I almost added something about how I could repay him, but I thought that might go too far. Besides, I didn’t want to put ideas in his head. I’d made it this farwithout being raped.
I closed my eyes and held out my arm, hating how submissive the gesture felt. It was one thing to not fight. It was something else altogether to participate. And this felt a hell of a lot like participating. Tears stung my eyelids, but I didn’t brush them away. I’d let him think they were tears of gratitude instead of shame.
“What’s your name?” I asked. For a moment, I didn’t think he’d answer me. There was power in a name.
“Yerik.”
“Thank you, Yerik. I’m Rona.”
I knew he knew my name, but one of the basics to surviving kidnapping or hostage situation was consistent reminders of humanity. I couldn’t become just another nameless, faceless woman. I needed to have a name.
As he stood, I looked up at him with pleading on my face, and said, “Will you come again, Yerik? Please. I’d rather it be you.”
His cheeks flushed, and after a moment, he nodded. We stayed like that for several seconds before he turned and walked away, leaving me with a clear enough mind to start thinking about escape.
I had to make sure no one else knew what Yerik had done for me. I wasn’t going soft. When I got out of there, I’d see that the FBI offered him a deal to flip on the others, but that was all he was getting from my gratitude. No matter how young or easily manipulated he was, Yerik was still involved in holding me captive.
I talked, doing my best to match the cadence and volume that I’d had the previous few days when I’d been on full doses of the drugs. I didn’t really think about what I was saying, letting random bits of what sounded like half of a conversation come out all on its own. It didn’t matter if any of it was based on real events or feelings. The privacy of my personal life wasn’t really my top concern now.
My brain wasn’t buzzing as fast as usual, but this wasn’t exactly a complex escape plan. It would come down to timing and sheer physicality. I would need to catch someone off-guard enough that I could not only get to the door but through the door. I couldn’t risk someone grabbing me just as I got outside the room.
That was another problem. I didn’t know what was outside. I could find stairs and another door with more mysteries behind it. It could be a house or a warehouse, in any sort of neighborhood. Once I made it out of this hateful room, I needed to get out of the building without being caught, then hope that I recognized where I was. I’d been in Fort Collins long enough to know my way around for the most part, but there were still parts of the city where I’d be lost. Granted, being lost was better than my current situation.
The odds were in my favor that even if I didn’t know where I was, I could find someone to lend
me their phone. Then again, I had to consider the danger to which I’d be exposing anyone who helped me. The last thing I wanted was someone getting hurt. Or worse.
Size wise, it made more sense for me to go after the scrawny guy. But I thought that Yerik would hesitate, and that might give me the edge I needed to get free. I would’ve liked to wait a little more, but I knew I couldn’t count on Yerik to come back more than once. The next time the door opened, if it was him, I had to go.
As far as I could tell, my cell didn’t have any cameras, but I still took a risk when I pushed myself to my feet. I’d gotten rid of the tape around my ankles at some point. Fortunately, they assumed I was too far out of it to need them tied again.
I took it slow, making it look like I was wandering, chasing after things only I could see. My legs could barely hold at first, and it frightened me how weak I’d gotten in such a short time. Still, I didn’t give in to the desire to fade into nothing, to just let go. There was no way in hell I was going down without a fight.
Around the room I went, slowly stretching my arms and legs, testing to see where my weaknesses were. The colors were still there, in the background, swirling and muted, but I ignored them. It was easier to do while I was moving, and it gave me hope that this could actually work.
I heard the footsteps, and I told myself this was it. It was time.
I braced myself across from the door, knowing I’d need the momentum. Then the door opened, and the moment I saw Yerik’s face, I moved. No overthinking, no hesitation. I caught a glimpse of surprise on his face as I shoved past him, but I didn’t slow down.
The corridor was dark, but I caught a glimpse of light several feet away. I ran toward it, knowing it was my only hope. It wasn’t until I grabbed the doorknob that I thought I hadn’t considered what to do if the door was locked. For a sweet few seconds, as the doorknob turned under my hand, I could almost taste freedom. Then the door opened, and I hit a wall of muscle and bounced off.
Serge grabbed my arms in a bruising grip, the expression on his face promising more pain. I barely felt it over the despair that flooded me. This was it. I doubted I’d get another chance. Whatever horrors they had in store for me, I would have no choice but to face them. Still, I would not let them break me.
Six
The floor was cold, and they took my coat, but sometimes the colors came and kept me warm. He hadn’t come back since I’d screamed him away, but sometimes others came.
“You’re a really good agent,” I told Clay. “I’m glad that no one found out about us. It was stupid for us to fuck. It wasn’t anything real, and we risked your career. Don’t do it again. You wait until you find someone who’s worth everything, and if she’s worth it, she won’t ask you to risk your career. You deserve it all.”
He smiled at me. That Clay smile that always made me think of the times before Anton died. Back when I still had at least some family. Before I was alone.
Like I was alone now.
Because there wasn’t anyone in the room with me. Clay had left. He never stayed long. He hadn’t stayed long before either.
“Anton, haven’t you gotten that damn thing to work yet?”
I looked up from my seat in the corner as a tall pretty-boy came swaggering into the loft like he owned it. Unruly dark hair and a pair of intelligent blue-gray eyes. If he hadn’t walked right over to the fridge and grabbed a beer like he had every right to go rooting around in the kitchen, I might have thought he was attractive.
Okay, I wasn’t blind. He was hot. Younger than Uncle Anton, but older than my seventeen years.
“Want to grab me a beer too?” I asked as I set aside my book.
He looked down, surprised to see me. “You don’t look old enough to drink.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I believe it’s legal as long as I’m at home and it’s been given to me by my guardian.”
“I’m not your guardian,” he countered.
“You walked into my home acting like you live here, so I was confused.”
He stared at me for a moment, then laughed. “I’m Clay Kurth.” He held out a hand, and I shook it. “I met your uncle at the courthouse a couple weeks ago.”
“You’re the FBI agent who helped him carry that old turntable up here.” I gestured to the hunk of junk in the corner where Uncle Anton had spent his spare time lately.
“I am,” Clay said. “He was bound and determined to get that thing up here. I thought he was nuts.”
“I’m not the one who went undercover in Crazy Tony’s crew to make a racketeering case,” Anton said mildly.
I gave Clay another look. Anton made sure I stayed away from the more unsavory parts of Hell’s Kitchen, but I would’ve had to be deaf to not know who Crazy Tony was. This FBI agent was either incredibly brave…or an idiot. I was leaning toward the latter.
Clay had come around a few more times before Anton died, and after that, he’d kept an eye on me, eventually recruiting me to the FBI. I doubted Uncle Anton would’ve approved of the two of us sleeping together, but I knew he would’ve been glad to know that I had someone like Clay at my back.
Back.
Back.
My back was against the wall. It was cold. My colors had gone away again. Food would come soon, and with it, the needle and the colors. I wouldn’t feel the cold or the fear that wanted to sneak in when those thoughts crept in again. The thoughts that asked where I was and what was going to happen to me.
“Did he hurt you again?”
Jalen looked worried as he crouched next to me. I slowly shook my head as he brushed his finger down my cheek.
“As long as I don’t scream, he doesn’t hurt me,” I said. “And I don’t need to scream when you and Clay are here to protect me.” I grabbed his hand. “Don’t be mad about Clay. He’s my friend.”
“I know,” Jalen said. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “He’s a good guy.”
I nodded emphatically, then closed my eyes for a moment. Too much moving made me dizzy. I kept talking though. I liked talking to Jalen.
“He is a good guy. I really want you two to get along.”
“We do.”
I opened my eyes to see Clay sitting next to Jalen. I didn’t know which one had spoken, but it didn’t matter because they were both holding my hand now.
“You’re going to find me,” I said as I stretched out on the floor. My room stunk, and I knew I was almost as dirty as the floor, but Clay and Jalen didn’t seem to mind. “Will you keep me warm until the colors come?”
Clay laid down behind me and wrapped his arms around me. Jalen laid in front of me, his arms sliding between Clay’s waist and mine. He rested his forehead on mine, and the heat from their bodies seeped into me.
“Are you looking for me?” I whispered. I didn’t want Serge or his friends to overhear. If they knew Jalen and Clay were coming for me, they might move me, and then no one would ever find me.
“Of course,” Jalen said, brushing his lips against my cheek, my mouth. “I’ll never stop looking for you. I promise.”
“What about the baby?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said, his hand sliding under my shirt. His fingers traced my scar. “Elise was lying. There’s no baby. The only person I want a baby with is you.”
“I don’t think I’ll be a good parent,” I admitted. “I don’t know what it’s like to have good parents.”
“Yes, you do,” Clay said quietly. “Before your dad’s accident, you had good parents. Your mom was always amazing. Anton wasn’t perfect, but he was good too. You know how to love.”
“Dad said he didn’t love me.”
“Shh.” Jalen smoothed down my matted hair. “You can remember what it was like before the accident. You know he loved you. Just remember.”
Another crack of lightning was close enough for me to hear it. Thunder rumbled almost immediately, rattling the pictures on my walls. My heart beat rapidly against my ribs, and I slid out of bed. It was too much to
deal with alone. I was a big girl, but even big girls were scared sometimes. Daddy told me that, and Daddy didn’t lie.
I ran across the hall into their room, right up to Daddy’s side of the bed. I tugged on the blanket. “Daddy.”
He snored, but right now I didn’t think it was funny how he sounded like a sleeping bear. I didn’t want to laugh. I wanted him to wake up.
“Daddy.” I grabbed his hand this time and pulled on it. “Daddy wake up!”
He blinked at me. “Rona? Are you okay, little ladybug?”
I shook my head. “I’m scared.”
He didn’t ask me why I was scared or what had scared me. He just leaned over and picked me up, rolling us both over so that I was between him and Mommy. That was the safest place to be. No one could get me when I was here. Mommy and Daddy protected me. Kept me safe. They’d never let anyone hurt me.
I jerked awake, my befuddled brain unsure when I’d fallen asleep. Clay and Jalen were gone, and a part of me recognized the fact that they’d never been here to begin with. Someone had been though, because I had new food and water, and a familiar ache in my arm from another injection.
I should be worried about that. Were they using the same syringe? Had they used it on anyone else? What was in it? Was I going to come out of this addicted or damaged? I’d made it through nearly being cut in half without getting addicted to painkillers. I couldn’t let this ruin me.
Clarity of thought didn’t last long, not with another dose of drugs making its way through my system. Before I could get worked up enough to attempt anything remotely close to an escape plan, my limbs began to feel heavy, and the colors came back.
“If you can’t think, you’ll never be able to get out of here.” Jalen nudged my plate with his toe. “You’ve been here for too long already.”
I ate my toast and a pear. I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t have been here too long because I didn’t know how much time had passed. Maybe Serge was feeding me every few hours to make me think I’d been gone for days, but it was only Saturday.