RECLUSE

by Andrew, Nikolai

  I need her bound to me. Today.

  8

  Melanie

  Raymond shrugs as I stand in the doorway of his office, refusing to step inside. “Well?”

  “Sorry, my car broke down on the way back out to the Weber place yesterday, then there was the storm last night and…” I draw a breath. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. “I just got back to town. There’s no signal up there.” I hold up my cell, hoping he’ll believe me.

  He shakes his head, shrugging as he stands from his desk. As soon as I got into the office, Nick told me he was on the warpath. I decided to face it head on.

  “That’s the best you could come up with? What, did you sleep in your car?” He seethes through clenched teeth, fire shooting from his eyes.

  What does he care where I slept? His anger is far out of proportion to whatever crime I’ve committed.

  I meet his eyes, straightening my back. “It’s the truth,” I retort, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. This is the last thing I need after the call from the vet as I drove back into town. There’s a place for Peaches to get treatment, but only if I can pay half up front.

  Four-thousand, six hundred is half. And that’s if everything goes as planned.

  Raymond laughs, but there’s a mocking edge to it. “Truth? I don’t think you know what that word means. I saw you. I saw you going into your house an hour ago.”

  He saw me? So, he was watching my house? He is the stalker. The one leaving flowers, making me feel like I’m being watched. He just tipped his hand. It sends a chill up my spine.

  “Yes,” I say, taking a step back and looking around the corridor outside his office. Unfortunately, there’s no one. Being alone with him makes me feel like I ate some bad oysters. “I needed to change my clothes. And feed my cat. Or would you rather I turned up here in yesterday’s outfit?”

  He’s close now, leaning in, staring down into my face. At five six, I’m not short. But Raymond is about six feet, skinny, flaking skin, a bad comb over and makes my skin feel like it’s covered with worms.

  “I don’t like your tone, Crawford. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in charge here, not you.”

  Well, I don’t like the smell of your breath, but we can’t all have what we want.

  It’s a battle to not spit the words at him.

  I need this job.

  I need this job.

  “Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “And that’s my problem how exactly? I sent you to do a job. Do you at least have the paperwork?”

  “Yes it’s…” My heart falls as I remember throwing the folder onto the seat of Vincent’s truck. And not picking it up when I got out. “Shit—I mean, sorry. I’ve left it in the truck I borrowed from Mr. Weber. I’ll go—”

  “You borrowed a truck? From a client?” He’s raising his voice now, making sure anyone out in the main office will hear him chewing me out. “It’s always an excuse with you. I know you don’t need this job, I know who your family is. You’re a trust fund baby, slumming to make yourself feel better for a few years then you’ll be back into Mommy and Daddy’s pockets.”

  Daddy. The word sends a jolt through me. But hearing it coming from him it almost makes me throw up.

  I want Vincent. I wish Vincent was here.

  “I do need this job.” Dick head. “And, I want to do this job.”

  “Truth, I don’t know why you’re here. But, I do know you are not doing this job well. Perhaps your…” He glances down, not bothering to hide the way his gaze falls on my cleavage, knowing that there are no witnesses right now and I wish I was wearing a parka. “…assets would be better suited to some other profession, as I’ve suggested before.”

  “I’ll go and get the paperwork. I just want to get it organized before I bring it to you. Give me five minutes.”

  “And I assume you’ll make up that five minutes, along with the time you missed yesterday? Remind me, I think you also asked for some time off coming up…something about a cat?”

  “Yes, I need that day. I have a vet appointment for my cat. She’s sick.”

  He shrugs, giving me an indifferent look.

  “I work hard around here, I’ve never asked for a day off in six months—”

  He laughs as he steps forward, only failing to brush against me because of my quick step back. “We all work hard, Crawford. Everyone else manages to also come in every day and turn in their work. Without a hundred spelling errors.”

  The wall is behind me now, there’s nowhere else to go and a rope of panic twists around my neck. Surely he wouldn’t… Not here, not with others right there in the office next door.

  “I’ll go get the paperwork,” I say, sliding aside on the wall out of his reach.

  I gulp as I turn away, shouldering my bag, but feel his hand on my arm, tugging me back.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, Crawford.”

  “Don’t touch me!” I bark back, jerking my arm away but his fingers dig in.

  “Or what? Nobody here is going to help you, Melanie. Maybe we can come to some arrangement about the time you’ve missed. The time you need for your…cat. You make it up in…” He licks his lips, a grin spreading over his shiny, flaky face. He has the overpowering scent of menthol and dirty clothes, making me swallow back a reflex gag. “…other ways. What do you say?”

  “I said take your fucking hand off me,” I seethe, narrowing my eyes, and for the first time in my life I consider physical violence. A swift kick in the balls or a punch in the throat, or both, should be sufficient.

  I yank my arm out of his grip, feeling the sting of his nails on my skin as I scramble away, tears filling my eyes as a sob gathers in my throat and I try to figure out what to do next.

  * * *

  “I don’t know. I’ve blown it. I can’t go back there.” My eyes are still burning with tears as I drive, taking the truck back out to Vincent’s place, not even sure what I’m going to do when I get there. I notice my knuckles white on the steering wheel and have to consciously loosen my fingers.

  “You should be fucking pissed—” Lori’s voice is sharp coming through the phone speaker.

  “I am pissed!” I scream, the built up anger and frustration boiling over. I’m tired, I’m sore. There’s a throb between my legs reminding me of just how off the rails I’ve been in the last twenty-four hours. “This is what he wanted. I fell right into his little game. Again. Now I’m fired for sure.”

  “Mel, anyone would have reacted the same way.”

  I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “What am I going to do? I’ve just given Peaches the last can of food that was in the house. I can barely afford to feed her, let alone the treatment she needs. I’m going to have to call my mom. Beg her to take me in, agree to any demand she makes.”

  “Where are you? Right now, I mean. I’ve got cat food, I’ll bring it to you. Are you heading home?”

  “No, I’m not there. Something happened, Lori. Last night, I…” My fingers drum on the wheel as I debate with myself how much to tell her. “I stayed the night. With Vincent Weber.”

  I glance out of the window at the gray clouds in the sky above as I take the turn onto the road that leads up into the mountains, heading toward Vincent’s place. I feel compelled, drawn to go back, to lean into his strength.

  “You stayed…” She blows out a breath. “Wow, that’s… That’s huge.”

  “Yes, huge,” I repeat, thinking of his cock, and immediately I’m soaking wet, my insides clenching onto something that isn’t there. “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated how? Is he fucking married? Is he keeping a woman up there with him? Locked up—”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Well, how do you feel? I mean, you did it, right? Are you okay?”

  I laugh as I take the corner, shaking my head, not sure how to answer.

  Am I okay?

  No.

  Yes.

  And no again.

&n
bsp; With everything that’s happened over the last day I don’t know who I am anymore, or what’s going to happen to me. The thought strikes me that Vincent’s truck grips the road much better than my little car. It’s a far more practical option for living up here, and if I was going to move in…I should probably get one for myself…

  Gahhhh. I shake my head.

  What am I thinking? It was one night.

  One night that probably meant more to me than it did to him.

  “How do I feel?” I consider Lori’s question. “Excited. Nervous. Like I’m about to fly apart into a trillion tiny pieces. Like my skin is going to peel off but at the same time, like I’m on the Ferris Wheel, eating cotton candy, hugging a huge teddy bear he just won for me at the ring toss. I don’t know, Lori, I feel crazy and confused and I have so many things on my mind right now.”

  “But, you didn’t answer me. You guys…made love, right?”

  The word’s made love give me a chuckle. “Well, let’s say…he’s not… Well, Vincent is kind of uncivilized.”

  “Uncivilized? What does that mean? He didn’t force you did he? I’ll cut off his dick and choke him with it…”

  “No!” I respond quickly, defensive. What he did was exactly what I wanted. He didn’t force me. My own words ring in my head, telling him to stop, telling him no, when all I really wanted was to be taken, to be fucked, to be held down. “No, I wanted it.”

  “And he knew you were a virgin? You told him that? He was gentle with you?”

  “I told him, but he wasn’t gentle.”

  But, he called me Goldilocks…

  “Mel…”

  “I didn’t want him to be gentle, Lori. It… It made me feel alive, wanted, needed. It was exactly what I wanted and needed. Trust me, I could have stopped it. I could have stopped him.”

  The words are true and saying them out loud strengthens my resolve. I need to tell Vincent how I feel about what happened. He was hurting this morning and I did nothing to help. He needs to know that last night was perfect, the very way I would have wanted my first time. Even if I didn’t know that before it happened.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  I drive in through the gate with the Keep Out sign, barely registering that it’s now standing wide open this time, welcoming me.

  Things with Vincent feel right, perfect, like a dream come true. But what about my job? What about Peaches? There’s more at stake here than my own heart.

  “He’s a recluse, Lori. He lives out in the middle of nowhere, off grid. He has a, like, old time radio thing. Not even a phone. And if I’ve lost my job, I’m going to have to go back to my parents.”

  “So, what are you going to do? Is that where you’re going now? To his place?”

  “Yes, and I’m not sure what to do. I need to get my car, he’s getting the tires fixed. After that? I don’t know, tell him it’s over, I guess. I don’t see how it could work. Timing is bad. It was impulsive.”

  “And is that what you want?”

  “Does it matter what I want or don’t want? Right now, I’m caught in the storm and I’m just going to have to go where it takes me, which looks like back to my parents.”

  She sighs as I glance out at the carved trees. There’s so much more to Vincent than meets the eye. At heart, he’s an artist, a poet, a perfect storm of confidence and lust. Different? Yes, for sure.

  But, what good is normal if you’re not being true to yourself?

  He’s a grizzly bear with the heart of a devoted father.

  “Honey, I wish there was more I could do. You want me to go find Raymond and castrate him? I could do that…make me feel better.”

  “Tempting,” I mutter. “I’m pulling in. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck. But please don’t do anything rash. You haven’t lost your job yet.”

  “I think I have. I’m just going to have to suck it up. Could you check on Peaches in a bit? She barely ate the food I gave her and I’m just so worried, but I have to deal with this.”

  “Sure. I’ll go over right now. Key in the same place?”

  “Yes. Under the purple painted rock by the back door. Thanks, Lori. For everything.”

  I end the call and step out of the truck, practicing what I’m going to say in my head.

  It shouldn’t be this hard, it’s only been a couple of days since the first time we met. What do I say in that situation? Do I even need to say anything at all?

  I told him I loved him. He said he loved me. But, that’s impossible, at least that’s what my head is saying.

  My heart disagrees.

  He will probably be relieved. Lust got ahold of us, the storm, proximity, loneliness. He can go back to his chickens and vegetables and carvings without feeling guilty or obligated.

  Unless, oh God. What if I’m already pregnant?

  My steps are slow as I step over the rise and look down at the house. This is the first relationship I’ve ever had.

  This is not a relationship, Mel. Get a grip.

  Still, it is the first time I’ve ever trusted a man to want me for me, not for how I look or the money my family has. Vincent is different. I know that. No matter how I looked, make-up, no make-up, jeans, my pair of fuzzy PJ pants and a unicorn t-shirt, a ball gown…I feel like it wouldn’t matter to him. No matter if my family lived in a trailer park, waiting on their government check every month.

  He wouldn’t care.

  Outside the house, things are strewn everywhere. Tools and logs are tossed into trees. There’s broken branches, an ax handle snapped in half. It wasn’t like this when I left, and my chest is tight, wondering what’s gone on since I pulled away early this morning.

  Bear isn’t in his bed or anywhere I see as I step inside the porch, and the house seems unusually quiet.

  “Hello?” I knock on the inside door, but there’s only silence, so I try the handle. The door opens, swinging back, and I kick off my boots before stepping inside, the slam of my heartbeat making my chest feel like it’s being hit with a hammer. “Hello? Oh my God—”

  The inside of the house is filled with wildflowers, arranged in vases and glass jars, on the floor, on every surface I see. They are wildflowers, but this is no haphazardly strewn flurry of color. Nothing like the chaos outside.

  No, they’re carefully placed, dark blues and reds by the door flowing to light greens and yellows heading up the stairs like a rainbow. It’s astounding. The amount of work that must have gone into collecting and arranging them blows my mind.

  I wander through in a daze, fighting off disbelief.

  Wildflowers.

  Like the ones left on my doorstep.

  Was it Vincent?

  But that’s impossible. We only met two days ago. The flowers have been arriving for months, almost since the first day I arrived in town.

  It’s you.

  He said that, when he’d found me on the ground being licked to death by Bear.

  How long had he been stalking me? Since I moved to Lewiston? Before?

  A shiver runs down my spine, but it’s not fear—surely the appropriate response. No. I’m excited.

  Way excited, and it only adds to my confusion. I’ve changed since I met the reclusive mountain man I called Daddy while he took my virginity, hard and without remorse.

  I know how I should react right now. I should be running.

  Instead, I feel like I’m walking on clouds as I head through to the kitchen, biting into my cheek as I stare at the table where I sacrificed myself to him. There are flowers here, too, pure white and blood red, and I grin as my heart flutters.

  White, virginal, bloody. The symbolism is undeniable. The pinch between my legs turns to a longing again as I head back out and through the door into that hall.

  In a daze, I retrace my footsteps from last night, heading down the gentle slope to the room I never entered, determined this time to find out what’s beyond.

  A minute later, it’s there, in front of me, and I reach out and turn the h
andle, pushing it open.

  And what I see chills my blood.

  It’s a small room, barely six feet square, with no windows. A light flickers to life above me as I stare inside, illuminating in short bursts the objects arranged on the table…or altar…in front of me. It’s a shrine.

  As the fluorescent light steadies, I recognize my panties, lovingly laid out on the wooden top, my hairbrush with a few strands of hair still stuck on the prongs. There are stacks of open empty envelopes addressed to me. Three empty cans of Spaghetti-O’s, my go-to cheap dinner, along with other odd things that I know I threw in the garbage or went missing from my apartment. Magazines, an empty prescription bottle from when I had Strep throat a few months ago…he’s collecting my garbage? He’s been inside my place…

  I cover my mouth, pinching my nose, trying to bite back the weird shiver threatening to take over my whole body, but that’s not all.

  Black and white photos are scattered around, pinned to the walls. Hundreds of them, taken with a long lens, looking like they are home developed on curled white photo paper.

  All are pictures of me, some around town, in my car, me inside my apartment, through the window, walking from room to room.

  “What did I say about snooping, Goldilocks?” The boom of his voice shakes me and I spin.

  But this time I’m not scared. Not intimidated. Even with the insanity displayed before me, I’m not afraid.

  I shake my head as he takes a step forward, fixing him with a stare, and he stops short. “No. Not this time. No distracting me. I have questions and I need answers...if you say no lying from me, then there’s no lying from you either.”

  He draws a slow breath through his nose, staring down at me his chest heaving. Then he closes his eyes and nods. “I’ll tell you everything, little one. Just promise to hear me out.”

  9

  Vincent

  I wonder where to begin as I watch her face, her features pinched tight. She hasn’t fled. That has to be a good sign, right? But how do I explain my obsession? What can I say that won’t make her hate me? What can I say so she won’t be afraid?