9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
STARLET
* 10 MONTHS IN CAPTIVITY *
T hings have been eerily quiet the last few months. Zavier’s silence has become deafening and hasn’t touched me since that day I fell. According to him, I’m ‘damaged goods’, which suits me. I’ve never felt more at ease than I do right now. Our interactions now consist of mere murmurs of “Hey” and “thank you” when he brings me food or water to wash myself. It’s safe to say I’ve been a good girl and not giving him any reason to beat the daylights out of me .
Gazing down at my hands, I notice how my nails have become unkempt and unsightly. I console myself with the thought that one day I will escape this nightmare, and Chloe and I will indulge in a long-overdue spa day. We’ll have our hair and nails pampered, just like we used to. The mere thought of all the experiences I’ve missed out on brings tears to my eyes.
I wonder how Chloe is doing. But above all, thoughts of Argent consumed my mind. It has been almost a year since I last held onto the flicker of being found when the police came knocking. I still can’t fathom how they missed the basement, how they overlooked the door. How could something so crucial elude their attention?
My racing thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Zavier descends the stairs carrying a bag of food. He hasn’t bothered cooking for me, instead, he brings me takeout from The Diner. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel that he does it intentionally, a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost, what he has taken away.
“Here, and when you’re finished eating, knock on the door,” he instructs, handing me the bag before ascending the stairs once more. His words puzzle me. Why would he want me to do that? I hastily snatch the burger from the bag and devour it hungrily, trying to distract myself from the unsettling request.
I feel like a damn animal.
After polishing the entire burger in what must be a world record time, I throw the cozy blanket off my legs and slowly rise to my feet. As I come to a halt in front of the staircase, I gaze up at it with eager anticipation.
Could this be it?
Is he letting me go?
Inhaling deeply, I begin ascending the steps one by one, feeling the smooth wooden surface beneath my feet. Doubts start to creep into my mind. Perhaps this is a cruel trick. Maybe today is the day he kills me… finally.
With trembling hands, I gently knock on the sturdy wooden door, my heart pounding in my chest. A few moments later, I hear the satisfying click of the door unlocking and Zavier slowly pulls it open. “You’ve been good, so I thought you might enjoy a proper shower,” he declares, a faint smile gracing his fatigued face. Heavy bags weigh his eyes down, his disheveled hair resembling a bird’s nest, and his clothes appear as if they were plucked from a laundry basket.
“Wow, um, thank you,” I manage to reply, my voice quivering with both fear and gratitude. I would’ve loved it if he just let me go, but realistically, that would never happen. But being able to cleanse myself properly after months is a relief.
“Just remember, no tricks,” he warns, stepping aside to allow me to exit through the door. However, as soon as I step out, confusion washes over me, furrowing my brow. To the left, there is another set of steps. Slowly, I ascend them, the bright light from outside the narrow staircase blinding me momentarily. I haven’t basked in natural light for what feels like an eternity.
Squinting my eyes, I attempt to adjust to the sudden brightness, its warmth caressing my skin. As my vision begins to focus, I turn and cast a bewildered gaze and look at where I came from. My eyes widen with disbelief. The couch is suspended halfway in the air, transformed into a makeshift door with a metallic panel affixed beneath it.
You must be fucking joking ?
Right underneath the worn-out, faded couch is where the hidden staircase leads to the damp basement. The sight before me leaves me dumbfounded, realizing why the cops never discovered the secret space. The couch, cleverly designed, serves as a disguised door. When lowered to the ground, it seamlessly blends in, concealing any trace of what lies beneath.
Smart, Zavier. I’ll give you that.
He appears behind me, gently nudging me forward, and guiding me toward the bathroom. I take a moment to absorb my surroundings. The cabin exudes a sense of neglect, evident in the small oak kitchen, coated in a layer of grime that hasn’t seen the touch of soap in quite some time. The lounge area boasts three worn-out couches, their cushions sagging, and a crooked wooden coffee table in the middle, and next to the window stands a fireplace, its bricks charred and blackened from countless fires. Zavier leads me down a dimly lit hallway, revealing two bedrooms, but before I can explore further, his firm grip on my arm brings me to a halt.
“I’ll lock the door. Just knock when you’re done,” he instructs, gesturing towards the bathroom on my left. I nod, and as I enter, the door closes behind me along with the click of the lock.
The dim lighting of the bathroom casts an eerie ambiance, revealing the neglect that permeates the cabin. It has been a while since I’ve been in one of these. As my eyes scan the room, I notice the cracked tiles on the floor and the peeling wallpaper.
A gasp escapes my lips as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the grimy mirror. The last time I looked at myself was the morning before my world shattered. My hair hangs greasily, clinging to my face, while my eyes stare back at me, hollow and devoid of any emotion. Dry, cracked lips and parched, peeling skin reflect the toll this ordeal has taken on me. The sight is horrifying. Tears immediately start streaming down my face. Unable to bear the sight any longer, I turn away, my gaze falling upon a bathtub against the wall. It stands there, worn and stained, with a shower head mounted on the wall above it.
As I approach, my eyes catch a glimpse of a small window above the bath, its glass smeared with dirt and grime blocking any view of the outside world.
No way .
My heart skips a beat with disbelief as I stare at the glass window, its surface glistening in the sunlight. I hastily step into the bath, my hands finding the cold, smooth window frame. I can already smell the fresh outside air, carrying hints of blooming flowers, as I try to open the latch. No matter how hard I pull, it won’t budge. A frustrating groan rumbles through me as I stand on my toes, feeling the cool tiles beneath my feet, and try to inspect what the reason is for the struggle.
Of course.
Not only is it locked, but he glued the damn thing too. Tears pool in my eyes, blurring my vision, as disappointment weighs on me. Even if I managed to get the latch, how would I even fit through?
I’m such an idiot.
Slowly stepping out of the bath, I turn on the warm water of the shower, the sound of the rushing water filling the room, bringing a sense of comfort. Sighing with defeat, I catch myself staring into the mirror again, its surface reflecting the dimly lit room. My eyes scan over my reflection, stopping at the horrific scar on my thigh sticking out of my shorts .
Quickly, I remove my pants, grazing my trembling fingers over the scar where Argent’s initial once was, feeling the unevenness of the skin beneath my touch. I can still hear his voice, his words echoing in my mind.
'Don’t move, baby'
'Perfect'
'You’re mine, little star'
Shutting my eyes tightly, trying to contain the tears and the thoughts, a rush of adrenaline courses through me. And almost instantly, an idea hits me in the face. I walk towards the mirror, gazing around for any object I can use, and I spot a plunger next to the toilet, its handle worn and faded. I reach out and grab it, the coolness of the rubber suction cup contrasting with the warmth of my hands, my eyes shifting between the wooden part of the plunger and the mirror. The shower is still running; the sound growing louder, which is gonna help drown out any loud noises. Taking a deep breath, I clench the wooden stick tightly with both my hands before swinging it and hitting the mirror as hard as I can. The mirror shatters, shards of glass falling on the sink and to the ground, their sharp edges glinting in the light .
I freeze momentarily before my eyes fall on a large piece of glass on the sink, its jagged edges reflecting a distorted image of myself. Grabbing it, I take a seat on the toilet, propping my leg up against the edge of the bathtub, feeling the cold porcelain against my skin.
My heart is pounding in my chest, its rhythmic thumping reverberating through my body as I struggle to find the courage to do it. To basically re-mark myself.
This is insane.
Taking in a shaky breath, I feel the cold, sharp edge of the glass pressing into my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The stinging sensation intensifies, and I can hear the sound of my own gasp escaping my lips. The pain shoots through my fingertips, making them tingle with discomfort. All I can hear is Argent’s voice, his words echoing in my ears like a haunting symphony.
'Don't move, baby'
With each cut, I feel warm blood trickling down my legs, staining the floor beneath me. The searing pain in my thigh becomes unbearable, causing tears to well up in my eyes. It’s not just the physical pain that brings me to tears, but the overwhelming emotional anguish I had to endure without him. At least now, I have something of him again.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I force myself to let go of the blood-stained glass, and it shatters on the floor, creating a sharp, jarring sound that fills the room. My eyes fixate on my thigh, the rapid thuds of my heart echoing in my chest, creating a pulsating rhythm. With each deep breath, I delicately trace the outline of the freshly cut ‘A’ on my leg, feeling the texture of the raw wound beneath my fingertips.
'Perfect'
“Perfect,” I whisper softly, my voice echoing his in my mind, as if he is still with me in this moment, guiding my every move.
Startled by the sudden bang on the door, a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, heightening my senses. I quickly stand up, feeling a rush of dizziness as I regain my balance. “What’s taking so long?” Zavier’s voice echoes from outside the door, filled with concern.
I remain silent, my heart pounding in my ears, the sound drowning out any other noise. I hear the jingling of keys as they fumble with the lock, each metallic clink sending a shiver down my spine. The next few moments feel surreal, like a hazy dream.
As the door swings open, Zavier freezes, his eyes widening in shock. Tears stream down my face, but I can’t tear my gaze away from him. Holding the same bloody glass to my throat.