If they wanted to cut out my tongue or my voice box, then let them. At least it might bring an end to the hell I was living in, if by any stroke of luck I bled to death.
“What’s your name? Or shall I just call you Wednesday Addams? You have the same hair.” He reached forward and brushed my hair aside, tucking it behind my ear, and leaving my face exposed.
“I know why you hide, but you don’t need to hide from me.” He bent his head down to look into my eyes. “I see you,” he said, but I shifted away, not wanting to meet his gaze.
“I get why they like you. You’re very pretty underneath the veil of hair.” He circled his finger in the air around my face as he spoke. “You’ve got that cute little button nose and Kardashian lip thing going on. Don’t even ask me how I know about that. I watch way too many YouTube videos.”
He leant back again and put his hands behind his head like he was on vacation.
“I might be going out on a limb here, but I think they have you here against your will.” He levelled me with a stern look this time and clenched his jaw.
“Which leaves me with a dilemma. You see, I can’t sit here with you, chatting away and being all friendly, and then send you back to those fuckers out there, if you don’t want to be with them. It’ll go against my principles, who I am. If you tell me you want out of here, then I’ll get you the fuck out of here.”
He frowned at me, as if willing me to speak. I couldn’t do it though. How did I know he meant what he said? What if it was all a trap?
“Talk to me. Do you need help getting out of here? Do you want to get away from them?”
This was not what I’d expected when I walked through those doors a few minutes ago. Why was he doing this? What would he get out of saving me? Other than the obvious; to be my new owner. I knew the old saying, better the devil you know, or devils in my case. I knew nothing about this man. He could be part of something deadlier and more depraved than anything the brothers had brought to my door.
But he could be your saviour.
My subconscious was all out of whack. But I wasn’t about to compromise my long game for some stranger with good patter. He was smooth, I’d give him that. However, I wasn’t easily swayed by a bit of smooth talk and a pretty face. I wasn’t like the othertoys.
“I’ll tell you what, if you want to leave now, tap your foot once. If you want to stay, tap twice.”
I wasn’t falling for his silly games. There would be no foot tapping. I wasn’t engaging in this man’s crazy. My exaggerated eye roll told him as much.
“Okay, no to the foot tapping. Got it. Let’s try something else. Do you have family or loved ones you’d like me to contact?”
I held my breath, feeling my throat constrict in pain. My family were my salvation and my downfall. I didn’t want to think about them whilst I was here, being dragged through the depths of hell. I kept them locked away in a safe place in my mind. Frozen in time, perfectly preserved until I could remember them without fear this world would taint my sacred memories. I wasn’t about to give that most treasured possession over to a stranger.
“Family’s a touchy subject, duly noted.”
This guy was getting good at reading my veiled signals. Too good. It was starting to unnerve me.
“Now, I know this one is going to have me dodging all kind of non-verbal bullets you’ll shoot my way, but I need to know. Are they hurting you?”
Are they hurting me? Did he really need to ask me that? I hadn’t seen a mirror in months, but I was guessing I looked pretty shocking. I had bruises painting my whole body in shades of purple, yellow, and green. Everything about me felt smaller, weaker and dirtier than I’d ever thought possible. And the scars you couldn’t see? I tended to those internally, every damn day, putting metaphorical sticking plasters over gaping bloody wounds.
Did they hurt me?
Yes, they did. But I would survive, and someday, when all of this was over, I would come back and hurt them twice as hard.
“You need to start fighting,” he whispered in a mournful, low voice. “Fight back. Get your life back.”
I’d heard enough.
I shot up off the bed, my nostrils flaring as I took deep, ragged breaths.
Fight back?
I fought harder than anything and anyone I knew, every second of every day. I was a fighter. He had no idea what the fuck he was talking about. There were different ways to fight your demons, and my way was the smart way. I might look like a weak and feeble mess, but I was strong. Just because I wasn’t clawing my way out, or screaming from the rooftops, didn’t mean I wasn’t continually plotting my escape. I had plans.
“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you’re weak. I just don’t understand why you aren’t using this time, this opportunity I’ve given you to escape, or do something, anything.”
He climbed off the bed and walked over to the door, opening it wide and standing back.
“There you go. There it is.” He waved his hand towards the corridor. “Your freedom. And you’re welcome.”
