Captured

by Myers, K. L.

  Jamal’s eyes stay downcast as he attempts to place dishes onto the table. Plates clank, and he nearly drops a covered platter. Brecken sighs, and Jamal cringes, making me fear the trouble he’ll be in for messing up. He can’t serve a meal like this, and I can’t ask him to.

  Slamming my chair back, I’m on my feet and flying to the stairs before Brecken finishes saying, “I expect you to be in something a bit more presentable when you return.”

  Fucking bastard.

  I can’t torment Jamal. It doesn’t matter how angry Brecken makes me. I can’t take it out on someone else.

  And he knows that.

  How the hell long has he been watching me?

  That’s the second time I’ve asked myself this. When will I get up enough gumption to demand answers from him? These little tantrums obviously don’t work, but I’m not ready to simply give in either.

  Closing the door to my room, I decide it’s time to see what Mr. Bossy Pants “prepared” for my arrival. Starting with the dresser, I open the top drawer and guffaw at the array of lace bras and matching underwear. He was disgusted by my nakedness, but he bought me sexy undergarments. He is a contradiction. One I am determined to figure out, so I can get what I want.

  The next set of drawers showcases silk pajamas in a mix of nightgowns to pant and top combinations. They’re all beautiful and so soft I’m tempted to lay them on the bed and take another nap. But dinner awaits, and I need to find something to wear.

  The remaining drawers are empty, so I make my way to the closet, and my mouth falls to the floor. Evening gowns line one wall. On another is a mixture of jeans and dress pants, sweaters, and tops. There are jackets of varying weights. Shoes and boots of all colors line the bottom under the clothes. It’s so much to take in.

  And so confusing.

  How long does Brecken plan to keep me here?

  Unable to stare at the beautiful clothing any longer, I close the closet and go back to the dresser for a pair of pajamas. Brecken won’t like my choice of attire, but maybe he’ll be so tired of my disobedience he’ll let me retire to my room with no more of his authoritative antics.

  I eye the undergarments a minute or two before finally sucking it up and grabbing a lavender set that makes me think of being outside on a spring day. I plan to hold on to that thought as I deal with Brecken. It’s weird, but I haven’t thought about being outside or flowers or anything remotely happy until he took me today.

  I guess he didn’t take me either, unless taking someone by the hand is a new form of kidnapping. As much as I feel captured, it was by my own doing. I need to remember that when I’m in his presence. I do have power.

  The red two-piece pajama set slides on and feels like heaven against my skin. It’s so soft I practically hug myself. I want to wrap my arms around myself and pretend there’s not a brooding man waiting for me downstairs, but I don’t want him to come looking for me.

  Breathing deep, I open the door and make my way back to the dining room. Jamal stands at my chair, waiting for me to sit, so he can place a napkin on my lap and push me in. “Thank you, Jamal,” I say, being sure to make eye contact and smile.

  “You’re welcome, Miss.”

  “Willow. Please call me Willow.”

  Jamal smiles and nods, but I don’t see him honoring my request. Maybe Brecken demands him to keep his distance, not wanting his help to get close to the dead girl. Maybe he just pushes everyone around.

  I have so many unanswered questions.

  “Is this better?” I ask, making a bowing gesture from my seat. It’s childish, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t bring out the fire in me.

  “Much,” he answers drily. “Are you comfortable?”

  Like he cares. I wish he would just kill me already.

  “I was comfortable before.”

  “Don’t lie, Willow. It doesn’t become you.”

  How does he know? No, I wasn’t comfortable, but a point needed to be made. I am not going to be pushed around.

  Yet, here I am, clothed and ready to eat dinner as he wishes.

  “You should eat while the food is still hot.”

  “Why do you want me to eat? Why do you want me showered and dressed? What does any of this have to do with ending my life?” The words tumble out in a mad rush as my irritation begins to grow again. “Why am I here?”

  He tilts his head as if he’s examining me, but what he’s trying to find, I have no clue. I’m a broken woman who’s tired of fighting the pain. If he’s looking for something more, he’ll be highly disappointed.

  “Why won’t you kill me?” The question comes out on a whine, and I nearly kick myself. Men like Brecken don’t respond to whining. He doesn’t respond to screaming either. Throw in a naked woman, and he barely gets a hair out of place. How the hell am I supposed to get on his level?

  “Why are you so quick to allow me to kill you?”

  He picks up his fork and knife and takes a bite of his steak but quickly gazes back at me. I guess he’s waiting for an answer. Do I have one? One that will make sense to anyone but me?

  “I... well... you see.”

  “When did you give up on yourself, Willow? At what moment did you decide you were no longer worthy of this world?”

  Why would he think that’s what I feel? That I’m not worthy. That’s not why I want to die. Jesus, he’s such a pompous ass, assuming he knows me. He knows nothing.

  “I’ll have you know—”

  “The pain is too much, right?” he says, cutting me off. “Save it for someone who believes that bullshit excuse.”

  “Excuse me. Who are you to tell me how I feel?” I shout, pushing back my seat and standing. “You know nothing of my pain!”

  His fists slam down on the table so loudly, I jump as a squeak leaps from my lips. His chair tips as he stands, and it slams to the floor. He stalks toward me, and I sink back into my seat, fear causing me to try to become as small as possible.

  “I know nothing of your pain?” he asks, smacking his fist off his chest, his voice booming off the walls. “I live your fucking pain every day.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I whisper as I realize what I said, how careless I was with my words. I’m not the only one who has lost the person I love.

  “Jamal,” he shouts, and Jamal runs into the room. “Pack her a plate and bring it to her room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get out of my sight until you can answer my questions.”

  I don’t move, too afraid of him to get up. Abe never made me feel fear, but Brecken exudes bad intent. He said to go, but what if that’s a trap?

  He sighs. “Go to your room, Willow.” He turns and walks away. I don’t move until he’s out of sight and I hear a door close.

  Then I get up and run. I don’t stop until I’m closed in my room.

  7

  Demons

  Brecken

  Her feet pound across the floor and up the stairs. By the way she cowered into her chair, I know I scared her. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, but I can’t change what I’ve done. Can’t she understand I just want her to listen and not disobey my requests? Is that too much to ask for?

  What was she thinking coming to dinner naked?

  When she first entered the room, I tried not to stare, but damn it, I’m a man, and her perfect ivory skin taunted me in all its beautiful glory. She thought she would get the best of me with her little stunt. I knew the moment I saw her, by the glint in her eye and smirk on her face, she was hoping for the upper hand. I might have faltered for a moment, but that’s all she got from me. I’m in control of this situation. Watching her smugness fall away into unease the moment Jamal entered made me hard.

  Winning always does.

  Then she had to piss me off again. I didn’t expect her to have so much fight left in her. Everything I saw the last few months showed a shattered woman. Easy prey. I was wrong in my assessment, something that never happens, and it led me to a moment of weakness.

 
; I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I just wanted a straight answer, one she obviously wasn’t prepared to give. And she wants me to end her life, which I’m not ready to do. I’m enjoying playing with her. Like a cat with its mouse, tease it for a while, and just when the mouse feels comfortable, bam! dinner is served.

  I’m going to play with her for making me angry. For making me lose my cool. She’ll understand the pain she feels mirrors the pain I feel every damn day. “Fucking Willow,” I mutter to the empty room. “Why does she think she’s here?”

  If she only knew the truth, rushes through my mind as I lay my head back against my seat and think back to the events of earlier today.

  Opening the door, I let her walk in, unable to step over the threshold of the room I was supposed to share with my wife. The room I’d created for her. The room she never got to see. She never saw any of this house. It was all going to be a surprise. A wedding gift on the return from our honeymoon.

  My breath got caught in my lungs as Willow looked around aimlessly. I waited for a reaction, something to show she appreciated the beauty within, but I got nothing. She didn’t show excitement like Emery would have. There was no love shining in her eyes. It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be in there, but I couldn’t ask her to leave. She was going to release me, so I could become the man Emery loved again.

  It took every piece of my strength to enter that room when Willow disobeyed me. To put my hands on her body and lift her from the bed that I was supposed to share with Emery. When my body reacted to her naked skin against my clothed chest, I wanted to vomit from the guilt. We were in Emery and my space, and I was betrayed by my hormones. I couldn’t stop the demon that unleashed, the anger that spilled forward, but Willow still disobeyed. She begged me to punish her.

  And then she looked at me like I was a monster because I did. When I stormed out demanding she come down to dinner, I didn’t think she’d show up. I was hoping she wouldn’t. I wanted to punish her again, but then she pulled that stunt, and my blood boiled.

  I brought her into the home I’d built for my wife, and she had the audacity to come to dinner naked. She has no remorse for the pain she’s causing me. She doesn’t care what it does to me to see her naked. That every lingering glance has the ability to destroy me. I closed myself off from the world when I lost Emery, but being around her, around her spark, is igniting something in me. Desires I thought went up in flames with my wife are being stoked to life. If I choose to embrace them, they can consume me, or drag me deeper into the dark.

  Closing my eyes, I think of Emery. You would have loved this house, Em. I still imagine you here with me, sitting next to me at dinner, holding you tight in bed. Every time I open my eyes, I expect to see you here with me, but you never are. I miss you.

  Why did I bring Willow here of all places? What was I thinking?

  You were thinking she reminds you of Emery, you fool. You’re drawn to her.

  Willow may have tempted me earlier... a little too much, but that will be the last time her beauty deters me from my path. It won’t happen again. She’ll never be Emery, and I’ll never betray my beloved with another.

  My inner voice speaks to me once again, She isn’t Emery, but she may be what you need. A second chance.

  I shake my head and slash my arm across my desk, scattering papers everywhere. Willow is not my second chance. I don’t want one, nor do I deserve one. I had one love, and she’s all I’ll ever have.

  As the papers rain around me, white overcoming my vision, I’m reminded of when I first met Emery. A smile comes to my face thinking of that afternoon.

  The snow has been falling steadily for over an hour. A few employees have been grumbling that working at a shelter is a terrible job in the winter. They don’t mean it deep down. They wouldn’t do this work if they did. I love spending my Saturdays here. It’s one of the many philanthropic ventures I own. Giving back to the community helps portray me as a normal man when the tabloids smear my playboy escapades across the pages of their rag magazines.

  I don’t really care what they say or write, but I do care about my employees being harassed, and that happens too often due to their untruths. Yeah, I’ve slept with my fair share of women, but not nearly as many as they’ve reported. They see me look at someone, and my penis magically falls into her vagina. I’m surprised I still have a dick with the action they report me getting.

  Cold bursts through the opening door. A beautiful blonde walks through, snow swirling around her and landing on her hair and the shoulders of her black jacket. She shakes it off and wipes her feet, a simple gesture of manners that is lacking nowadays. It’s refreshing, just like the minute amount of makeup she’s wearing.

  Peggy sneers a few feet away from me and makes a comment to Angel, “He’ll never hire her in those thrift store clothes. She looks homeless herself. What is she thinking?”

  Ahh, she’s my three o’clock, I think, ignoring the catty women to my right.

  Peggy and Angel solidified once again what I’ve been feeling about them for a while—ugly, from the inside out. They’re lucky they’re sympathetic to those who seek refuge here, or I’d fire them without thought. I have no use for cruel women in any aspect of my life. I will be addressing this behavior with them after my interview.

  With confidence, she walks straight to Monique’s desk without looking at me. If she heard what Peggy said to Angel, she shows no signs of distress. I like that.

  “How may I help you?” Monique asks.

  The blonde smiles, and I lose all feeling in my body. I don’t hear what she says, suddenly deafened by her beauty. I stand there, unable to move, and simply stare until Monique nudges me and says, “Mr. Wade, would you like me to show Miss Curtis to the conference room?”

  Clearing my throat to allow myself a moment of collection, I reply, “I’ll show her. Thank you, Monique.”

  “This way please, Miss Curtis.”

  “Emery, please,” she says.

  “Emery it is,” I counter with a smile.

  And like that, I knew I never wanted another woman’s name to pass my lips.

  She stole my heart that day, with her nose red and cheeks pink from the cold. She blew in on a snowy breeze and turned my world upside down. I went from being a playboy to a one-woman man. It only took a smile. Just like it only took losing her to make me who I am today. Willow will not change that. No woman can. Emery was the only one who could.

  I just need to remind myself what it feels like to feed the monster within me. Remind myself that my wretched heart will never find another match for my dark and twisted soul. It’s why I picked Willow. She found her one and only. She knows how it feels to be lost without them and desire the peace of being reunited with them. How am I supposed to help her find her peace when I can’t help myself?

  Questions run through my head, but I have no time for them. It’s time I remind myself what my purpose in life is now. I close my eyes and let my mind wander to the past. Fuck my inner voice. I’m a man on a path of destruction.

  The evening sun begins to set. “Jamal,” I call out, “where is the morning paper?” Without hesitation, Jamal places the paper beside me. The headline grabs my attention and calls to me to read on.

  Prominent surgeon Mark Madison found guilty a year and a half ago of unprofessionally fondling his patients prior to surgery was released from jail today.

  Mr. Madison, who lost his license to practice, found himself divorced and without a place to live while in prison. His former wife was awarded what was left in their joint account after all settlements and fines were paid. With the few dollars provided to him upon release, Mr. Madison got drunk in hopes of drowning his sorrows. With nowhere to go and no money to his name, he went to Walmart, trying to hide there for the night. Mr. Madison was found and asked to leave by security and became violent. The police were called, and when they arrived, Madison was arrested for loitering and drunken misconduct. Having broken his parole, Mr. Madison awaits trial to see if he’
ll be serving more jail time.

  This is the perfect opportunity to right a wrong, I think to myself. “Jamal,” I say, handing him the paper, “post bail for Mr. Madison and take him to the sanctuary. I’ll meet you there later this afternoon.”

  It could take several hours for Madison to be released once bail is posted, which gives me time to decide his punishment. Part of me wants to drag it out, torture him for hours until he begs me to take his life. But then I’d been giving him what he wants, and that isn’t the redemption I’m looking for. I want him to suffer. To feel pain. I want him to be scared. When Madison finally dies, I want him riddled with the same emotions he caused the women he assaulted.

  Six hours pass before I stroll into the sanctuary. “Any issues at the station I need to prepare for?” I ask Jamal.

  “None, sir. They were so busy, and their computer systems were down. The officer only put my license information on the paperwork and couldn't run my identification. By the time he does, he’ll find that Bruce Pine vanished off the face of the earth and no one will be able to track the information back to either of us.”

  “Thank you, Jamal. Where is Madison?”

  Jamal points to the closed door of the sanctuary. “I told him to sit and wait for you. He hasn’t asked any questions. I think he’s relieved someone posted his bail. Dumbass just sat there smiling when I said I was sent by the man who is willing to set him free.” Jamal’s lips spread into a grin as he says the last words.

  I pat his shoulder as I turn away. I walk to the closed door and push my way in. Madison quickly stands, making his way toward me. “Thank you for posting my bail. Do we know each other?” His eyes scan me head to toe. I can see his brain working, trying to figure out who I was.

  “We’ve never met, Mr. Madison, but there is something we need to discuss”

  His curiosity is piqued as he tilts his head and asks, “What could we possibly have to discuss if we’ve never met? And what did you say your name was?”