Beautiful Torture

by C. P. Mandara

  I stay in my little cocoon of warmth for the better part of an hour with memories swimming through my head. Unpleasant, vile memories that are better pushed to the dark recesses of my brain and left to rot. Can Brandt keep me hidden here from the outside world? If he could, it might almost be worth staying behind bars. Better the devil you know, and all that.

  For Christ's sake, Harper, get up. He's given you some time to yourself. You have books to read and food to eat. Get up.

  Throwing the duvet to the foot of my rock-hard mattress, I wander over to the little fridge he's left me and open the door. Inside there are packaged sandwiches, yogurt, milk, cheese, salads, olives, cuts of meat and dips. In another carrier bag beside the fridge I find crackers, soft white rolls, cornflakes, cereal bars, bananas, apples, and a packet of biscuits. It might not be fare for a princess, but to me this is manna from heaven. I barely know where to start. Figuring I could do with a pick-me-up I grab the biscuits and a bottle of water. I might as well get started now because Brandt is sure to throw a hissy fit if I haven't eaten anything by the time he returns.

  I don't understand him at all. Why does he care if I eat or not? Surely it would be a bonus if I starved myself to death? Mind you, I guess he wouldn't get his confession then, and that seems to be all he's worried about. I have news for him. He's never getting that confession. If I give it to him I'll be signing his death warrant, and I can't have that on my conscience along with everything else. I've done enough damage. I'm pretty sure I've destroyed his life beyond any reasonable idea of repair, and for that alone I deserve to die a long and painful death. There's still time. It's not a cheerful thought.

  When I've managed to work my way through three biscuits, wishing to hell Brandt had left me a kettle so I could dunk them in a hot cup of tea, I grab a banana and decide to while away some hours reading. The books Brandt has left me are a bit of an eclectic mix, but I settle for a spy thriller by John le Carré. The rest are a mix of drama and horror, and I've seen enough of that in my lifetime without having to read about it as well.

  By the time I'm ready for bed I've managed to eat a strawberry yogurt, a ham roll, a couple of crackers and half an egg salad. I think I'm eating mostly out of boredom, but thankfully my stomach doesn't protest. At least Brandt won't be mad about my eating habits when he comes to let me out. I'm sure he'll find something else to be mad at, but it won't be that.

  Settling down under my duvet, I tuck the ends snuggly around my body and let my eyes close. For some reason I'm suddenly really tired, and it's probably the stress of the past few days catching up with me. I know my life will be hell on wheels when Browning comes back, but until then it makes sense to catch up on some sleep. Maybe I'll figure a way out of this mess when I wake up, or maybe this will all seem like a really bad dream. If only.

  Alex Wilkinson has a lot to answer for. When I first met him he was one of the cool guys at college. The kind that had slicked back hair and a girl hanging off every arm. He looked like something out of Grease because he always wore tight black jeans and a black leather jacket - even in summer. There was always this kind of mystery about him, the kind that girls love. He was obviously from the wrong side of the tracks, just like me, but for some reason he was Mr Popular, and everyone loved him. He'd excelled at every kind of sport there was, failed miserably at anything remotely academic, and all the teachers hated him because he had a smart response for everything. Unlike all the other girls, though, I chose not to hang around him. I think my bullshit meter must have sensed something was off, even from back then, because I made it a point to ignore him. While everyone else was actively vying for his attention, I would go out of my way to avoid him completely, and even when he'd try to talk to me I'd smile politely, answer in clipped sentences, and try to make my getaway as fast as possible. I'd learn later that what I was doing was pretty much like waving a pheromone-laced flag straight at him. Men adore the chase, but because Alex was so popular he could have anyone he pleased, except me. I might as well have painted Fuck me on my forehead, because when Alex decided he wanted something, he stopped at nothing to get it.

  As you've probably already guessed, I was in love with Brandt. I spent all my time pining over the rich boy I could never have. Hell would freeze over before the Browning's would allow a girl like me into their son's life. All I could do was lust over the pretty boy from afar and get carried away in my daydreams. At least I was smart enough to know they would never be made reality.

  Meanwhile, Alex was pulling every trick in the book to get my attention. He'd begun shadowing me, turning up in unexpected places so he could taunt or torment me, because he would never admit weakness. He wanted me, but he wanted me on his terms. Everywhere I went he would turn up, and my friends would flock around him, batting their eyelashes and wiping the drool off their chins. I would always be the one holding back. I knew I needed to keep my distance back then; I just didn't know why.

  The first thing Alex tried in his quest to get my attention was parading a different woman in front of my face every week. I'm guessing he figured I was into him and was just playing hard to get. This was probably partly true. You couldn't fail to fall for that bad boy image, but I was too hung up on Brandt. He didn't know that back then, though. When he found out he'd have a fit of the most epic proportions, but more about that later.

  So, when Alex figured he wasn't going to make me jealous, and he tested this to the max by going as far as to date one of my friends, he tried other tactics. Namely, he wanted to get me alone with him, by any means possible. I think he figured if he could get his hands on me and show me how good he was with them, I might just fall at his feet - and Alex was nothing if not determined.

  The man then made it his mission in life to make mine miserable. He was everywhere. He studied every move I made, knew where I'd be at every given time of the day, and mapped out my schedule until he knew where I'd be before I did. Back then, I'd assumed this was a weird and disconcerting coincidence, but I'd later find out he'd bribed all my friends. It didn't take him long to find an opportunity to get me on my own, and when he did, boy did he get his money's worth.

  It was a silly error on my part. My economics course had been cancelled, but I hadn't been intelligent enough to check my emails that day. This was because I couldn't afford the contract on my cell phone, and they'd cut me off three days earlier. I was getting around this by using the library's computer, or stealing my roommate's phone, but on this particular day I'd done neither. Turning up at class as usual I was a little surprised to find myself all on my own, but I sat down, figuring I must be early. Imagine my surprise when the first person to walk through the door was Alex.

  At first my brow furrowed, as if trying to figure out what on earth he was doing there. Had my room been changed? Or had Alex changed classes? God, I hoped not. I couldn't cope with him in the same room as me. There was chemistry there, sizzling brightly between us, and the only way for me to fight it was to ignore or avoid him. But I couldn't do that if he was sitting next to me. There was only so much self-control I possessed, and it was wearing thin as it was.

  "Am I in the wrong room?" I stood up quickly, hating that my voice sounded throaty and breathless. I swear Alex would be able to smell the lust pouring off my body from half a mile away. You want Brandt, I told myself sternly. The trouble was, as much as I knew I wanted the pretty, rich kid with the bright blue eyes and adorable smile, I also knew I wouldn't get him. What was I waiting for? Brandt was never going to date a deadbeat like me. His parents wouldn't allow it, and his friends would laugh at him.

  "Nope. You're in the right room. You're with me, sweetheart," Alex growled. He then came to stand in front of me, pressing his body so close to mine I could feel his growing erection through his jeans. Fuck. I jumped back as if shot, but he was ready and grabbed me by the waist. He laughed as he pulled me into him.

  "We can't do this," I whispered. "Someone will come in any second." Looking at the door anxiously, I remember willing it
to open. I knew I needed saving, and I fully expected to be rescued. What a silly girl I was back then. I'd been cornered, and there was no escape.

  "I've got news for you, girly. We are doing this." Pulling my body towards him until he virtually crushed my lungs with his hold, he put his lips on mine, and from that moment I was a goner. It was as if our bodies were made for each other and as soon as our lips crashed the circuit was complete. I think even Alex was shocked by the force of my response, although he didn't let it show. He just thrust his tongue inside me and created holy havoc with every single hormone I possessed. I couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move - hell, I could barely breathe. My body was moving on autopilot, and there was no ejector seat on this plane.

  When his hands moved between my legs you'd like to think I pushed him away. We were in a public place, after all. But I did no such thing. My brain had gone on holiday, my reflexes were shot, and I couldn't get enough of him. When his fingers slipped inside my panties I melted like an iceberg in Barbados - quickly, and with no thought to the devastation it would cause.

  I'm ashamed to admit it was Alex who stopped me dropping everything and rutting about on the classroom floor. He pulled back when I couldn't. I remember the moment as if it were yesterday. He had the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face. He knew he'd won the battle before it had even begun. All it would take now was time, and a little clever engineering on his behalf. I was doomed, but I didn't know that then. I remember putting shaking fingertips up to my bottom lip, sucking in air, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

  "See you around, Harper," Alex said as he strode away from me, giving me a cheerful wink. The door closed behind him a second later. I remember not knowing whether I wanted to claw his eyes out or run after him. On that occasion, I did neither. All of that would come later, much to my disgust.

  When I wake up everything is pitch black. Stretching my arms out and yawning, I wonder how long I've slept for. It's probably only been a few hours. My body feels permanently wired and it won't relax. Eventually I succumb to exhaustion, but even then I don't get anywhere near the amount of sleep I normally need. I can't see that's about to change anytime soon, either.

  Sitting up, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness for a few seconds. I can't hear anything bar the rustling of the wind outside, and I guess that's a good thing. It means I have a few more hours of solitude until my tormentor comes back. Actually, I lie. It's not a good thing. I'm going crazy on my own. What if he leaves me here to rot? It's no more than I deserve. If he gets held up in London, will he worry about leaving me alone? Doubtful. If I run out of food and water, there's no one to call, and there's no one to come to my rescue. This might have been his plan all along. Maybe he'll come back in a year or two to bury me. Holy shit, I'm going to drive myself crazy.

  There's a flicker of a shadow on the back wall, and my eyes shoot forward to see where the movement is coming from. Didn't Brandt say there were rats down here? Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Am I going crazy or did I actually see something just then? My eyes scan the room from top to bottom, when all I really want to do is bury myself back in my duvet and never come up for air again. Am I seeing ghosts now? Really?

  Meow. Jesus Christ. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound, but seconds later I watch as a cat pads down into my cell. He's a fluffy black Persian by the looks of it, and he's looking for attention. How did he get in here? Did Brandt leave one of the windows open upstairs? I hope he can get out again. I've not got any food to give him, bar a few slivers of chicken, perhaps.

  Squeezing through the bars of my cell he jumps neatly up onto my bed and looks at me. Meow. I'm going to take that as cat speak for 'give me some loving', and I'm only too happy to oblige. I cuddle up to the little beast and begin ruffling his fur. Purring appreciatively, he settles down on my lap and curls up into a little ball. Aww. Suddenly my day doesn't seem so bad. At least I've got some company.

  "Were you my shadow?" I whisper affectionately, pressing my face down into his fur and giving him a little kiss.

  "No," a loud voice booms out as I hear footsteps coming towards me. I nearly wet myself on the spot.

  The voice is dark, menacing and dangerous, and it isn't Brandt's. There's some kind of accent there, but I'm too scared to figure it out just yet. Scooting back up against the wall I watch as the cat jumps off me with an angry hiss. My heart is pounding in my chest and my mouth is dry. Who the hell is this and what is he doing here? For a moment I can't say a thing - all I can do is huddle up in my duvet while I try my best not to hyperventilate. Is this a burglar? Did Brandt send him? Slow seconds tick past while each of us waits for the other to speak. In the end the intruder wins.

  "Who are you?" I whisper.

  "Your worst nightmare," he says, in a rough, gravelly voice that puts shivers up my spine.

  "You'll need to wait in line for that position. Browning has top spot at the moment." My hands clap themselves over my mouth. I can't believe I just said that. Where has all this bravery come from? Perhaps it's because I'm standing behind a set of locked bars. Yes, that must be it.

  "So I've heard, but you're wrong, sweetheart. I'm far more dangerous than Browning. He's a pussycat compared to me." Tall, dark and scary saunters towards me, until he reaches the bars of my prison. He rests against them lazily and examines me slowly, not that he can see much. Thankfully, it's dark in here.

  "What makes you say that?" I ask softly. I know I'm going to regret that question, but now it's out there I can't take it back.

  "You sure you want to know the answer to that, princess? Now I'm going out on a limb here, but I'm almost certain you won't." That confirms my worst suspicions. Excellent. I have a bad feeling Brandt has sent an ex-con to babysit me.

  "I'm sure." I bite my lip. What the fuck am I saying? He's just warned me I don't want to hear this, and I'm encouraging him to continue.

  "Suit yourself," he says nonchalantly, as the cat begins to rub against his leg. "So, we both know Brandt was sent inside for your crimes. We also know he's not a criminal. He hasn't got it in him." The cat is crying out for attention again, and Scary Man bends down to pet him, before picking him up and laying him across his chest. He turns towards me once more and smiles. "I, on the other hand, am a nasty piece of work. I've committed multiple crimes and I don't have a shred of remorse for any of them unless I'm talking to my parole officer."

  This is exactly what I feared. Brandt is feeding me to the wolves. Is this man going to be my tormentor now? I hope not. He's the kind of mean that I've seen far too often. I don't think I can deal with this again. I've only just scraped myself together since the last big incident. Stop it. You can't think about that now. You'll go nuts.

  "What was the worst of those crimes?" It's odd, but I can't seem to say a word when Brandt's in the room. Now I'm in chatty mode with Captain Evil. What is wrong with me?

  "Murder." His tone is horribly flippant. He doesn't give a fuck if he's scaring me, and believe me, he is. I can feel my skin prickling and all I want to do is run. Fat chance of that. I'm going nowhere.

  "Do you want to kill me?" I swallow tightly. I have a feeling I already know the answer to that question.

  "Oh, you have no idea how much I want to kill you, Harper. The good news is, I'm going to show you, as soon as I can get myself in that cosy little cell of yours."

  Chapter 4 - Brandt

  By the time I make it to Euston Station the last direct train from London to Glasgow has already gone. It left at six-thirty p.m., and that was over three hours ago. I want to throw my head back and scream. I can still grab another train with a couple of stops enroute, but that will take around sixteen hours, versus the five hours that the direct route would have taken. However I look at it, I'm not arriving in Glasgow until about two p.m. tomorrow, and that's too late - especially as I still haven't heard from Gabriel. My body is working itself up into a sweat just thinking about what the man might do to her. What was I thinking when I called the bastard? He knows
our sorry tale, and he told me a long time ago how he'd make her squeal if he ever got the chance - and believe me when I tell you it isn't pretty. Whatever happens, I can't leave him alone with her for too long. If he kills her I will lose my shit. Perhaps I'm worrying too much. I don't think he'd do anything too drastic without my say so, but is that a risk I'm willing to take? The answer is a resounding no.

  Grabbing a large cup of black coffee at a drive-through Starbucks, I point my car northwards and prepare to settle in for a long drive. What a fucking nightmare.

  I spend the first hour of the journey berating myself for ever having called Gabriel in the first place. He's a killer for Christ's sake - and one with the morals of an alley cat. Mind you, it wasn't as if I had a choice. Normal people do not kidnap women and lock them in their houses. If I'd called anyone else I'd be back inside by now. Shit, shit, shit.

  Don't panic, I tell myself. At least Harper is under lock and key. Gabriel won't be able to get his ass inside her cell. Yeah, right. You learn all sorts of nasty tricks in prison, and one of the first ones is how to pick a lock. Jamming my finger into the stereo controls I try to figure out how the radio works by using brute force. Eventually it blares into life, and then there's a mad scramble to get the volume down. I need a distraction. I can't think about what he might be doing to her. Calm down. He might not even be there. Fat chance. He will have rushed over there the first chance he got. Gabriel is nothing if not curious. Thumping the steering wheel hard, I curse. I can't even break any speed limits; the last thing I need is to get stopped by the police.