by Rebel Hart
I know there has to be something somewhere in this place. Something that my dad and the Hendersons can use in their case. It can’t be spotless. Then maybe I would have something more than these ransom videos to count on.
“I gotta say…out of all the times I imagined being locked alone with you in your room…this is not exactly what I had pictured,” I attempt to joke with him with a half-smile.
His eyes spark with interest. “So, you have fantasized about me?” he asks with a suggestive note to his voice.
“Don’t be stupid, Emmett. You know I have. And you’ve fantasized about me too,” I state plainly.
He catches the ball a final time and sits up to look at me. His eyes trail over my body longingly and then settle on the cuffs around my wrist with a tinge of pity. Blood is still dripping down my arm from where it banged against the bathroom counter this morning.
He raises to his feet at the sight of the blood and steps toward me. “How’s your arm?”
“It’s alright I guess,” I sniffle. “After everything with Thomas…I guess I forgot about it.”
Both of our eyes turn dark with the memory of Emmett being forced to stand there and hold me down while Thomas felt me up. I watch the memories roll around in his mind, sending him into a sudden manic pace across the room.
“It can’t be easy to have a dad like that,” I offer softly.
He turns but doesn’t answer me. His face twists slightly with a flood of suppressed emotions.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles half-heartedly. “You don’t know anything about us.”
I kick myself for having crossed a line, closing him off. But his voice is blank. He’s lying to protect himself, and he’s not even that adamant about it. I can tell he’s tired and worn down from everything. Maybe just as much as I am.
Without another word, he leaves the room. His feet march toward the bathroom down the hall before returning a few minutes later with first aid supplies in hand. Taking a seat near me on the edge of the bed, he leans forward to clean my wound.
“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” he says softly, gently blotting a cold, damp cotton ball to the cut.
“I know you didn’t,” I lie, looking deep into his eyes.
His head raises with my words before he kneels back down to put a band-aid over the cut. “What’s got you playing nice all of a sudden?”
“I’m just done playing games,” I explain. “I’m tired and scared. And you’re the only person I care about in any of this.”
He laughs mockingly. “Care about?”
“You know I care for you, Emmett,” I soften my voice. “And you care for me too.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” he scoffs through a thin veil. I can see everything stirring up inside of him.
I strategically uncross my legs, revealing a slight view from where my dress is riding up my thighs, and move closer so that we are touching. His eyes drink in the sight of my hiked skirt and everything peeking out from underneath. Putting us right back in the tempting spot we were the night before.
“You made me sure of it,” I explain, lifting my leg to rub against his, sinking beneath my hands that are chained behind my head. “All the times you knew you were supposed to beat the shit out of me, but you were too turned on to really hurt me. The classroom after I slapped Vivian. And again, when she was standing there watching us. I could tell how badly you wanted me by the way you looked into my eyes. It took everything in you not to take me last night.”
He shifts uncomfortably, trying to look away but unable to.
“You didn’t have to kiss me when you tracked me down at that meet…before I came to WJ Prep,” I continue, wearing down on his defenses. “You know I’m not so gullible that I’d melt for any boy who kissed me. You did it because you couldn’t help yourself. And I fell for you because I couldn’t help myself. You can’t deny that there’s something between us.”
My throat hitches as I realize everything I’m saying is true, even if I am only trying to butter him up. All of the tension between us amplifies with every word I speak. My lips part as I rest my eyes firmly on him, my suspended hands growing moist. “I didn’t know what to say when you asked last night…but I feel it too. We are so attracted to each other.”
His fingers trail across my arm too slowly as he tends to the wound, his legs spread, opening slightly wider as mine do. He leans forward, continuing to bandage my cut. Not saying a word. But I can see a million things going on in his head.
“What are you thinking?” my tone is soft and low. I relax into my captive state, turning my chest straight toward him.
His eyes soften and gloss over with desire. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I dart my tongue across my lips, loosening the tension in my muscles. “I don’t have the energy to fight this anymore.”
He shifts uneasily, clenching his hands briefly before tugging at his ear. I feel the skin on my chest grow flush as I swallow hard with a slow smile that builds. “How long do you think it will be before they want me again?” I ask as I lift my chin, holding my breath. “Can you let me go? Just for a little bit?”
He eyes me suspiciously before tensing up again, moving away as if he’s trying to break the spell. “It’s not a good idea,” he insists. “My father will kill both of us if we don’t do what we’re supposed to.”
“He’ll never know,” I protest, pulling at the cuffs eagerly. “Emmett, I won’t try anything. I just want to be able to talk to you without being all chained up.”
He scoffs with a dismissive smirk. “Fuck off, Ophelia. I know you too well. You may be attracted to me, but you also hate me. This is just a game so you can pull some kind of shit over on me. Which wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
I back off, shifting to make myself uncomfortable as I resign to being handcuffed longer. I wrack my brain for anything I can say to sway him as I feel the building intensity of time running out.
“Do you remember when we first met?” I try again. “I thought you were so hot. But then again I also thought you were normal.”
I catch a faint smirk on his lips. “So, I’m not normal?” he teases.
I answer with my brow raised sharply, letting him figure that one out for himself. “The way you kissed my hand,” I laughed. “And then you demanded that I let you kiss my lips.”
He plops into a chair in the corner as his leg starts bobbing up and down. He presses his palm to his mouth and looks anxiously around the room, fighting hard not to let my words affect him.
“I can’t believe I let you,” I mused. “Something about the way you commanded me…I just couldn’t refuse. I guess you still have that power over me somehow.”
“I wasn’t expecting to feel like that when I kissed you,” he responds with a surprising tenderness.
His recollection of it makes sense. The way he seemed confused and tormented as he grabbed at my body with an almost punishing touch. He hated me for the feelings I stirred up inside of him. He was just doing what he was told, scoping me out and luring me to WJ Prep. He never meant to feel anything for me.
“I still never expect to feel that way when I kiss you,” he added in a disappointed mutter.
“But you do,” I offer optimistically, thinking maybe I’ve found my way into him. “And I do too. There’s something between us, Emmett. Enough that…surely you can trust me to let me go for just a little bit. My arms are still sore from sleeping like this all night.”
He eyes my red wrists in concern, rapidly already turning white and red with numb tingles that hurt much more than the first time around.
Springing to his feet like he might actually let me loose, he stops again. Eyeing me suspiciously.
“Come on, Emmett,” I encourage him, sounding as innocent as I can. “Part of what made that first kiss so fucking delicious was the freedom of my hands. Do you remember how I explored your body? Trailed my fingers through
your hair?”
He turns with a growl, growing more frustrated. “You drive me crazy, Ophelia. Just stop it!” he snaps finally. “When this is all over…”
He stops himself, and I’m surprised at his subtle implication. He’s hinting at an end to this. One in which I’m maybe still alive. Does he know something I don’t?
“I think a lot about those first couple of times we met,” I carry on, mostly out of bored resignation at this point. “The way I saw you before I started piecing everything together. Before I knew about the Elites…or that you were one of them.”
“Oh yeah?” he mumbles, doing a poor job of hiding his interest.
I part my legs again, spreading the tight black dress as my head falls back in a nostalgic moan. “I wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.”
He’s started throwing his ball again without saying a single word in response. Just a frustrated sigh and quick glance in my direction.
“Do you remember the other day in the classroom? The things you did to me against that wall,” my voice trails off into an almost whisper.
He coldly pushes back, “Ophelia, stop it. Everything’s different now.”
I grow still, feeling embarrassed. And also afraid, worried about what’s happened since then that’s changed everything so much. I have to remember he has the upper hand. He knows more than he’s telling me.
I have to stop thinking about him like this anyway. It makes no sense. There are much bigger things going on. My life is in danger. I shouldn’t be pining for some boy…especially when that boy is one of the people tormenting me.
He hangs his head in exasperation and heaves a sigh, “I don’t know what you want from me. I just want this all to be over with. I have to be careful or…”
“Or what?” I try again, needing him to look at me – to want me the way he used to. The way he did just last night. I need a distraction from everything that just happened with his father. The fear of the unknown and what happens next. “I know you’re keeping something from me. Just tell me.”
“I can’t do this right now. Why can’t you understand that? You don’t listen to me,” he grumbles. It’s a relief to see him angry but calm. To know he’s capable of less than the extremes I’ve seen up until now.
“Where’s Vivian been this whole time?” I ask finally. I’m curious, but also seeing how many different nerves I can strike. Hoping one of them will make him spill whatever it is he’s hiding.
He shakes his head, not answering me.
“Did you two break up?” I ask lightly, trying to sound indifferent.
“Oh, just because she’s not around for your kidnapping you assume we broke up?” he snaps back with an arrogant grin, his brows raised. “What’s it to you anyway, Ophelia?”
Now I grow silent, angry that he even needs to ask why I care with everything I’ve said to him. He thinks it’s all just an act. I wish it was. Mostly I just wish I didn’t say anything at all.
“I need to go to school,” he finally relents, giving up on his fight against me. Needing to retreat somewhere far away from me and this whole mess. I know he doesn’t need to go to school right now. He’s just looking for an escape.
“Take me with you,” I beg urgently, cringing at the thought of being left alone in the same building as his father. “Don’t leave me here alone.”
“I can’t,” he insists sternly. “There’s no way that’s going to happen.”
“Then at least let me loose,” I cry sincerely, feeling unable to bear another few hours of my arms being suspended this way. “Please, Emmett. My arms are killing me. I won’t leave your room.”
“I know you won’t,” he huffs as he marches over, pulling the key from his pocket and unlatching the cuffs. “This door locks from the outside, and I’m the only one who can unlock it.” He holds up the small remote from last night. He clicks the button a few times, prompting the latch of the door to move to and from.
After demonstrating the lock, he finally unlocks my handcuffs again. My arms shake as I groan with their release, wringing the soreness of my wrists.
He gathers his things, refusing to look at me, stopping once before he reaches for the door with a subtle glance over his shoulder. I pray for him to turn around and do whatever is going through his mind, but with another exasperated grunt he carries on his path. The door is swiftly shut and locked from the outside.
I’m relieved to be alone again as he leaves for school, but I would still give anything to be able to go with him. Though I know in reality I am no safer out there than in here, the illusion of freedom, even only for a brief afternoon, would restore me. Give me the strength I need to maybe gain a new perspective. Some new idea of what to do next.
My hands and arms still ache, and I wonder if I can use this time to sleep it off. I am exhausted. Being left alone finally, I try to make the best of it and rest in a way I couldn’t when Emmett was just a foot away. But a strange longing for him lingers. I am once again left with frazzled senses, not knowing if I want to run to him or away from him.
I lay down, relishing in the relief of tension in my body. Time passes slowly as I’m unable to fall asleep. I’m too afraid of what might happen while he’s gone. I know Thomas is lurking out there somewhere, and I can only hope he is too distracted to realize I’m up here all alone. Maybe my dad has responded to him. Maybe he’s finally giving up and giving them what they want. But I know better.
The clock on his bedside table says it’s close to noon. Every time I close my eyes, I swear I see someone moving in the corner of the room, jerking me back awake. Great, I think. Now I’m hallucinating.
I try to stay perfectly still, thinking maybe if I don’t make any noise, Thomas will forget I’m up here all alone. But I can’t lay on the bed anymore. I’m too anxious to stay still.
I pace the room in dreaded anticipation of what happens next. My skin is crawling from the memories of Thomas’s hands on my body, and I swear I can still feel him touching me. I shake it all away, trying to bring myself back to reality. I am alone and safe. For the moment.
But then footsteps thud down the hallway, sending me back into panic.
Anyone would want to run if they were in this position, but being a runner at heart, it’s that much more painful to be so trapped. My legs moving as fast as they can, the wind brushing against me as I leave everything behind, is the only thing that could make me feel better right now.
I just want to go home, far away from this hellhole. I wonder if my mom and Brendan have started looking for me yet. I never came home after the guys convinced them to let us go to the movies together. Surely, they would have contacted the police by now. I figure the Elites must have warned the authorities that they’d be up to something and not to look for me. They’d do whatever they asked. They could literally get away with murder.
The footsteps draw closer and suddenly there’s a knock on the door that causes me to jump.
“Ophelia?” Thomas’ voice calls out from behind the door, sending chills down my spine.
I’m too afraid to move. I stand there hopelessly, thinking maybe if I’m quiet he’ll just go away. I know all about his preference for underage girls.
“Let me in, sweetheart,” he croons, his voice making me sick. “I only want to talk to you.”
“Go away,” I answer softly, my voice cracking. “I don’t want to see anyone right now.”
“Now, is that any way to treat your host?” he taunts me, jiggling the door handle. “Emmett doesn’t have to know we’ve seen each other. And I can make you much more comfortable…if you’d only let me.”
“No…no thank you!” I stammer out. “I’m fine in here alone.”
“Suit yourself,” he jests finally. “But I’ll be seeing you soon.” I hear him cackle as he turns down the hall. The moment I hear his footsteps starting down the stairs, I race for my phone and open it up to Emmett’s number.
Thomas is trying to get into the room. Please help.
I sit on the edge of the bed and wait anxiously, but there’s no response.
Suddenly I hear the lock on the bedroom door click. My heart pounds as I think it must be Thomas. He’s returned with a key. But the hallway is silent. I peek out and see no one. I quickly dart across the hall and lock myself inside the bathroom, only for that lock to click open a few minutes later.
A scream rests on the tip of my tongue as the handle turns and the door slowly creaks open, but I’m relieved to see Emmett on the other side.
His hair is disheveled, and he looks distressed.
“Are you okay?” he growls, fuming with anger. “I can’t believe my dad tried to get at you again. I can’t take this. You’re mine.”
“Please let me go to school with you, Emmett,” I plead again. “The moment you leave, he’ll be back. And I don’t think he’ll give up so easily next time.” I can see him considering it as he grazes his palm across the back of his neck.
“Convince me,” he demands, for his own sake just as much as mine.
I step closer, leaning into his chest. “I’ll stay by your side at all times,” I argue. “For better or worse.”
My head lifts, my eyes meeting his. They furrow narrowly, reading my face and body, before he blinks and leans back into my stance. My eyes are glued to his lips, begging him to make a move.
“Oh god, Emmett…please. Just fuck me,” the words spill from my mouth in a breathless stream, surprising both of us.
He tenses, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips as his fingers skate across his jaw. A faint jumble of syllables escapes his lips, but quickly trail off as he clears his throat.
My head tilts and my lips part as I slowly breathe faster under his gaze across my body. He moves even closer, as if he has no choice. We’re both at the mercy of the magnetic pull between us.
My heart rate quickens as my body heat rises. I can’t stand it anymore. I dig my fingers into his forearm, pulling him closer. The tension melts away with each touch, giving us release. We’ve kissed so many times before, but we know this time is different. Once we start, we won’t stop.