by Debbie Civil
Chapter 13
My head is pounding, like I’m having a hangover. I was only drunk once in my life. Donald dared me to drink a bottle of wine. I was fourteen at the time and hadn’t lived on the edge yet. So I’d tried it and regretted it badly. But this feeling doesn’t make any sense. Peter would never allow me to get this drunk. Peter. Thinking of him brings my memories back. Dad got his mother fired. Things would get worse if we stayed together. Maybe Grandmother can intervene. She likes Peter a whole lot. I can’t imagine that she’s thrilled about an innocent woman losing her job. But the thought of Grandmother standing up to my parents is a laughable one. Dad has grown bold and doesn’t fear her anymore. Mom has never had a backbone and would rather eat her foot than stand up to Dad. Feeling frustrated, I slip out of bed. My head instantly pounds, and I curse myself for drinking too much. I walk over to the door and twist the knob. It’s locked from the outside. Strange. Dad must have installed that after I knocked out. I stare down at the cotton sundress that I’ve fallen asleep in and wince. It’s wrinkled, badly. Figuring that a shower would do me some good I walk over to the walk-in closet and freeze. There are clothes hanging in the closet, but none of them belongs to me. The hair on the back of my neck rises when I remember the strange blonde man that was in my room. He put something over my nose and mouth and… I don’t know what happened after that. Not recovering a memory is a bad thing. I want to scream when I also remember that the blonde man told me that he was taking me somewhere. This can’t be happening. Maybe he failed, and Mom had tossed out all of my clothes. She has been crazy lately. I walk into the bathroom and freeze when I smell the scent of fresh paint. Yes, everything looks exactly the same as the bathroom in my bedroom in the mansion except for the camera hanging above the vanity. I want to scream in horror. But my mouth is so dry that it comes out as a croak. No! This can’t be happening. I’ve been kidnapped for the second time. I have the worst luck.
“Chelsea, are you thirsty?” a voice asks from behind me. I spin around to see a terrified looking Ivy holding up a cup of water to me. Adam did it. He stole me. But why does my former friend look so terrible? No, terrible isn’t the right word. She’s wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and her brown hair is perfectly styled into a high pony-tail. Her skin is clear and there is no indication of bruising. It’s her eyes that startle me. There are bags under her blue eyes, as if she hasn’t slept in years. I reach out my hand for the cup, knowing that I don’t have much of a choice. “Sip slowly,” she directs as she stares anxiously at the camera. I do as she instructs and in a few minutes, my bladder starts complaining. There’s no way I’m going to the bathroom with everyone watching. That’s so embarrassing.
“I need to pee,” I say, hoping that Ivy has an alternate bathroom to lead me to.
“Sorry, this is it,” she says, regretfully.
“Why is Adam doing this?” I hiss. Ivy glares at me and quickly masks her hostile look. Apparently, it isn’t quick enough because the blonde man storms in holding a taser.
“Ivy, why is my fianceé upset?” he asks, his eyes filling with anger. His fianceé? Is this guy crazy?
“Um… I…”
“I’m not angry. I’m just confused,” I say carefully, not wanting to upset the man with the taser. He relaxes.
“Darling, what are you confused about?” he asks, his baby blues filling with concern. Carmen is good with linguistics. She knows how to direct a question. I’m not as impulsive as Eli, but I’m in the running. My palms begin to sweat, and I’m beginning to squirm. This is too much pressure. If I give the wrong answer, Ivy gets shocked
“Why is there a camera in this bathroom?” is the only question that I can come up with. The blonde man walks over to me and traces his fingertip along my scar. I want to hurl. But I force a smile.
“Oh, baby, I couldn’t leave you unprotected. What if you’re attacked in here? Then, I won’t be able to save you in time,” he whispers, his face turning gentle. I hope this man realizes that the only dangerous person to me in this house is him.
“Oh. But Ivy can’t hurt me. She wouldn’t dare,” I say, forcing confidence. He brushes a kiss on my forehead.
“Would you rather have Teresa as your servant? Would that please you, my wife?”
“Why do I need a servant?” I ask, my voice choking.
“Because I can’t bear the thought of you taking care of yourself. Chelsea Philips, you are a queen. You deserve to get waited on hand and foot. Until I find the right woman to help you, either Ivy or Teresa will do. Molly isn’t getting near you. She’s a vile one. According to my sources, she’s the reason you stopped cheering. That… Let me stop myself, I can’t use offensive words in your presence. You are precious and pure. Tell me that you didn’t sleep with James.”
“No, I haven’t slept with anyone.” I look at Ivy, who seems relieved.
“Good. He will live. Now, tell me about Peter. Has he kissed your beautiful lips?” No! This can’t be happening. Lie Chelsea. You can’t let him think that you love him.
“No,” I say. The man walks over to Ivy and slaps her across the face. She crumples to the floor from the blow, and I cover my mouth.
“Chelsea, every time you lie to me, there will be a punishment. Now tell me, did you kiss Peter?”
“Yes.”
“Did you sleep with Peter?”
“No,” I say, feeling fortunate that I am telling the truth about that.
“So, you are nice and pure?” he asks.
“Yes. I’m waiting until I’m married,” I say, thinking that it’s probably best to play along. A grin slips across the blonde man's face. Suddenly he lifts me off of the ground and places me on the counter. Before I can even stop him, he places the taser behind me and crowds into my personal space. I’m nauseous and afraid. What is wrong with him?
“Sorry I scared you baby, I hate seeing you stand for a long period of time.” He grins. “After we get married, you won’t be standing at all.” His sardonic smile makes me want to puke.
“Why? Why are you doing this?” I softly rasp out.
“Because you need to be protected. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you. At breakfast, I will explain everything,” he whispers. He leans in, as if he’s going to kiss me, then frowns. “Wait, I don’t want our first kiss to be in a bathroom. You deserve more than that.” I deserve to be cuddled up in bed with Peter. But I won’t tell this creep that. He backs away and peers at Ivy, who’s leaning up against the wall. “Give her a bath and be gentle. I’ll be watching,” he warns before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Now, I really need to pee. I stare at the toilet seat, and Ivy turns her back.
“Go, I can’t leave you alone,” she pleads. I quickly jump off the counter and relieve myself. Ivy walks over to the tub and turns the water on. It’s while she’s filling the tub with bubble bath that I realize that the bathtub doesn’t have a shower head. I don’t dally. Maybe the creep is a slow walker. I strip and stand as far away from the camera as possible. I cover my chest and turn my back. Sure, he still has a good view of my butt, but it beats him getting a glimpse of my front. A couple of minutes later, Ivy tells me that the bath is ready. I slide in and am mindful not to splash water on the floor. I sit down and automatically tense up. There aren’t any shower curtains either. The bastard has a clear view of me. I want to cry. This is humiliating. Ivy reaches for the scrub and begins to wash my skin. Despite his orders that I need to be catered to hand and foot, I take control of the bath to wash my more personal areas. Ivy washes my hair, then goes into the linen closet and gets me a towel. I step out of the bathtub, and she wraps a towel around me. I hold it closed as her towel dries my hair. Apparently, Ivy’s also my hair dresser. She walks me out into the bedroom and dresses me in jean shorts and a tank top. Then, she sits me in a swivel chair and combs and blow dries my hair. After that’s done, I slip into the black flip-flops that Ivy gets from the well-stocked walk -in closet. As soon as I’m
dressed, Ivy ushers me out the door. The hallway doesn’t look like the hallway in the mansion. We aren’t in a mansion. There are two doors and a steep staircase. Ivy releases her gentle hold on my arm and descends the stairs. I follow her. The stairs open up into the lime green living room which consists of nothing but a leather sectional. Exiting the living room, we reach a kitchen where the blonde man is sitting at a rectangular oak kitchen table. He’s reading the newspaper and is drinking a cup of black coffee. He’s eying Teresa, who’s being forced to make chocolate chipped pancakes. She looks terrified. Ivy looks longingly at the food. The blonde guy notices then pulls the taser from under his seat and fires it. I scream as Ivy falls to the ground and begins convulsing. I’m in my abductor’s arms in seconds. He’s patting my back reassuringly.
“Its okay, Baby. If using the taser upsets you, I will find another means of punishment,” he whispers.
“Why are you punishing her?” I sob into his shirt.
“Because she looked at food that was supposed to be yours. Ivy has a habit of taking what is yours. She’s a nasty woman,” he hisses and I want to cry even more. Maybe if I distract him, Ivy could get away. “Now Baby, stop your crying. How could I make this better?”
“Don’t hurt anyone,” I plead, hoping that this will get through to him.
“Chelsea, I love you. I really do. But you need to understand something. I will punish everyone that’s wronged you. Don’t feel sorry for this monster. You are so precious. You have a good heart. This gives me an idea,” he begins, his eyes lighting up.
“What?” I ask, feeling worried.
“I’ll give you a choice,” he offers. “All of the guys that wronged you have to die. But the girls… Yes, we can hold a trial for each girl. You can save one of them,” he announces. I want to jump out of his arms. But he’s a cold blooded killer. I know this. Somehow I understand, that he killed to get Adam sprung from jail. If I don’t cooperate, he’d kill me. I need to stall. Surely, the police will know that I’ve gone missing. Maybe the trial is the perfect way. Hopefully, we can all overpower the monster and get out of here. I shudder at the thought that I will probably have to kill him as well. Maybe Adam could be assigned that task because I’m almost positive that he doesn’t have a heart.
“What about the boys that wronged me? They don’t get a trial?” I ask nervously.
“What’s the point?” the crazy blonde asks.
“Well, maybe they will have the opportunity to apologize,” I say. “You don’t want them to die without apologizing to me? Do you?” He nods.
“Fine, I’ll allow everyone but Adam to have a trial,” he offers before placing me in the chair. Ivy is sitting up, her face streaked with tears. There’s blood on her lips. Teresa is flipping pancakes, trying not to focus on what’s going on. I hope they understand that I’m trying to find a way for them to get out of here. The blonde man sits down, and I stand and pick the seat at the other end of the table by Ivy. He doesn’t seem to mind. Thank goodness.
“Do you want them joining us for breakfast?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I respond. The man sighs as Teresa sets the table. Ivy gets to her feet and sits to my right. After giving me three pancakes and her and Teresa two, she sits down.
“Will, do you want any pancakes?” Teresa asks expectantly. He grabs a plate from the cabinet and opens the fridge. He isn’t having what we are. Will makes himself a three cheese sandwich and slams the fridge shut. He sits down and frowns.
“Chelsea, I’ve already eaten breakfast. But I will nibble on this sandwich,” he tells me. No one touches their food. Ivy gives me a subtle nudge under the table, and I pick up my fork and begin to cut up the pancakes. Teresa sighs in relief, and we all begin eating.
“So, baby, do you have an idea of who you are going to save yet?” Everybody, I want to say. But I keep my plans to myself.
“I don’t know. I guess that we’ll have to wait until the trials,” I suggest, acting like the prospect is exciting. Will smiles.
“I can’t wait to see you in action. Maybe I’ll buy you a robe. My baby is going to be a judge!” he exclaims. I feel sick, but I force myself to eat every bite. I’ll have to keep up my strength. Taking him out isn’t going to be easy. He smiles at me, approvingly.
“How do your like Teresa’s cooking?” Will asks.
“It’s wonderful! She should cook every meal,” I boast, even though she sort of burned the pancakes.
“Then she will,” he proclaims. “What about Ivy? What do you think of her surface?”
“It’s wonderful. You have chosen correctly.” He stands and walks over to me, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“Unfortunately, Chelsea, I have to go to work. Ivy’s company will have to do. But don’t you worry, I’ll be watching your every move,” he threatens. “Teresa, come with me. Ivy, take her upstairs. Ivy looks like she wants to bolt, but I squeeze her leg. This is no time to escape. Will is expecting it. Ivy stands and offers her arm to me. I take it, and she ushers me back into the living room.
“What am I eating for lunch?” I casually ask Ivy.
“Don’t you worry darling. I will be bringing you take out,” he shouts. I frown and walk up the stairs with Ivy trailing me. As soon as we get to my room, she helps me in and closes the door behind her. I itch to go explore the house for a way out, but the lock clicks into place. I stare at Ivy, who seems so exhausted. I walk over to the desk and pull out a piece of notebook paper.
“Ivy, want to play Brittney and Cristina with me?” She looks at me like I’m crazy. But this is the best thing that I’ve got. She nods. I pull a pencil from the bin on the desk and sit down. Ivy frowns at the piece of paper, as if realizing something. She gestures to a camera.
“He’s watching, so I will treat you well,” she pointedly tells me. I sigh, knowing that he will demand to read our notes later. Instead, I turn on the television and channel surf. We spend the entire day watching lifetime movies. Ivy looks uncomfortable, as if he will come in any minute. At around 5:00, Will storms in, his face twisted in anger. He tosses me a bag that consists of a burger and fries. I frown, realizing that there isn’t any food for Ivy.
“What about Ivy?” I ask. Will ignores me. He spins on his heels and walks out. Soon, I hear the sound of the front door slamming. I stare at the door and wait for it. The click of the lock doesn’t sound. I frown down at my food, and stare at the lock again. Ivy shakes her head and points at the window. I walk over to the window and peer out. We are in the middle of nowhere so walking out and alerting neighbors won’t work. My heart plummets when all I see is unkempt grass with the occasional oak tree. I cautiously walk toward the door, wondering how I can plan an escape. Ivy follows me, and we cautiously open the door. Will stands in front of me, his eyes studying me.
“Where are you going, my love?” My hope dies when I see the blood on his shirt. He probably killed one of the prisoners.
“Blood?” I ask.
“Baby, I asked you your question first. Where are you going?”
“Drink,” I say, improvising.
“Oh. That was stupid of me. I forgot. Adam pissed me off that much. I can’t believe what he said today. He told me that you would never love me. But that isn’t true,” he insists. “You love me.” I have no idea what to say to this. The only thing I notice is the blood on his shirt. What has this crazy man done? “Chelsea, you love me. Chelsea, I want to hear it. Go on. Prove Adam wrong. Tell me you love me.” I look down at the floor. Escaping this isn’t going to be easy. Not if he keeps on giving me all of these mental tests.
“Whose blood?” I can’t get past the blood. Looking at it reminds me of Otis and how his head got blown off.
“Adam. I cut him, a little.” Ivy sobs and I just go numb.