Chapter Three
Romy
I t’s me, Caius.
The whispered words, in a deep, familiar voice, wake me with a jolt. I can almost smell his scent lingering in the air—one I think I know well.
Who are you, secret lover?
Why can’t I remember you?
The baby in my belly kicks and my heart rate quickens. What if this mysterious Caius is the father of my baby? Maybe I have amnesia and have a whole life away from this prison-like home with my “husband.” What if my real husband is looking for me?
This is where, in the past, I’d chide myself for weaving fantastical stories that aren’t true. But things are different now.
Something’s wrong with my life.
It’s a fraud.
Seth may seem to be my husband, but I feel no love for him. I noticed this yesterday when I’d come out of the mental fog I’d been in.
I can remember the past several months, but I don’t feel like I was an active participant.
What changed yesterday and woke me up?
Slowly, I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Seth. Last night, after pizza, he was back to his usual friendly self. And though I played a game of pretend, my mind continued to sort pieces of the puzzle that is my life.
I make it to the bathroom to pee because this baby stays on my bladder and let my mind wander, closing my eyes to conjure up the mysterious Caius.
Nothing.
Not even a partial glimpse of a memory.
It’s like he’s been erased from my mind.
I wonder if Seth has something to do with that. He has that app on his phone. And when it doesn’t work, he takes me into the lab. After the visit, I end up leaving feeling like a slate wiped clean. Empty. Blank. Vanished.
Yesterday, the app didn’t work, but I pretended it did.
What changed?
Is it broken? Does it need an update?
There’s a clue here and it’s an important one. I need to put my finger on it. Think, Romy!
Thunder rumbles outside loud enough the light fixture in the bathroom rattles. It’s then I come up with a logical theory.
Internet access.
What if there’s something inside me that relies on Wi-Fi, but since it’s been storming off and on the past two days, it’s not been able to connect?
I quickly finish up on the toilet, wash my hands, and then splash water on my face. The chill against my skin chases away the dregs of sleep, creating more intellectual awareness.
I’m being held here against my will.
The thought is painful, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to be here. And I know if I try to leave, Seth will do everything in his power to stop me.
If only I could get a hold of my dad, then maybe he could rescue me. Bastian, a known brawler from his youth, would take great pleasure in beating Seth’s ass for hurting me.
Did he hurt you?
I have bruises. And last night, at bedtime, I endured sex with him. Disgusted during the act, I silently cried. I know, in my heart, I hate that man. If only I knew exactly why.
With no phone, no car, no money, I’m at a loss as to where to begin with this great escape I’m planning. If only I could figure out a way to reach out to someone—anyone.
When I finish up in the bathroom, I walk silently through the darkened bedroom, noting the rhythmic snoring of my bedmate. Since he’s still asleep, I can continue with my attempt to break free of this mental prison.
First off, where am I?
Our home is not far from the lab. In fact, I could walk to it if I really wanted to. They’re on the same property. This means something.
Am I a part of some strange experiment?
That’s the only logical explanation.
What about Kaitlyn?
It’s not just me and my baby who are prisoners here. Kaitlyn is too. I’m going to have to get all three of us away from this man.
Seth has a home office, but he only uses it to pay bills and check emails. His real work takes place at the facility nearby. But there might be something I can glean from his office.
I sneak into the small, sparse room that’s off-limits for Kaitlyn to play in and sit at his desk chair. The desktop computer screen comes to life when I move the mouse. Unfortunately, it’s password protected. Since I can’t seem to recall anything of value that would help me, I give up after two incorrect tries. I’m not sure if it’ll lock him out and don’t want to take that chance.
Spinning around in the chair, I scan the room that the screen lights up dimly. No books, no notebooks, no clues. When my eyes land on the closet, an icy feeling of dread freezes me in place. At first, I think it’s because there’s something in there that might scare me. But then I’m hit with a barrage of memories.
Me as a little girl.
The monster.
Fingernails on me.
Terror.
A hot tear races down my cheek, and I swipe it away. I remember my nanny molesting me. Her face, her shoes, her voice. I’m able to recall every sickening detail as if I’ve opened the lid of a tightly shut box.
And then I see my father’s face as I yell at him.
He knew and tried to brainwash me into thinking it didn’t happen.
Vivienne.
Her name was Vivienne.
Flashes of a hotel room where I sit and talk to Kaitlyn come to mind. She shows me with her dolls the terrible things this woman also did to her and…
I draw a blank.
Her father.
Seth?
No. Seth’s not her real father.
My pulse quickens at that realization. Has this man kidnapped us? How did we get here?
I close my eyes, desperate to remember more, even the sick parts of Vivienne. As clear as day, I see a journal written in female swoops and curls. There are pictures of me and this woman. We look so much alike.
Mother.
Now I know my mind is playing tricks on me. Vivienne was my nanny, not my mom. My real mom left us.
So I was told.
Your mind plays tricks on you, Romy.
Maura, my previous therapist, is in my head, telling me to sit down and shut up. There was a time when I did just that. I swallowed the pills she gave me and did the psychological work in an effort to go along with the brainwashing my father insisted upon.
I have another fragment of a memory in my bedroom back home. Me and Bastian are arguing. I’m furious at him. And then I see his rage-filled face as he slams my head against a wall.
Megan got away.
Who’s Megan?
A woman in an evening gown runs through the city, the wind blasting her hair, making it whip all around her.
Relief floods through me, though I don’t know who Megan is.
I feel as though she’s somehow connected with my brother. Maybe I saved her and he was angry about it.
Overwhelming dread crushes me into the chair. Do I even have any friends or allies or family who would want to help me?
Caius?
I wish I could remember his face—anything about him. The harder I try, the more shadowed my brain gets.
I need to get access to the internet somehow.
Seth’s phone.
Rising to my feet, I dry my wet cheeks with the heel of my hands and make my way back to the bedroom where my captor sleeps. His snoring is the same as before. As stealthily as a pregnant woman can be, I prowl over to his side of the bed where his phone is plugged into the charger. When I pick it up, it lights up the dark room but instantly denies me access.
It has a face scanner.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest as I come to terms with what I must do. Seth is on his side, facing the middle of the bed. To get to his face, I’ll need to lean over him while trying not to mash him with my big belly.
Carefully, I do just that, stretching my arm as far as I can while keeping my body from touching his, and line the phone up with his face.
Denied.
He snorts out a louder snore, briefly opening his eyes. I freeze, horrified at being caught. The phone unlocks. His eyes flutter closed again, not truly waking up. I snatch the phone back and step away from him, shuddering in fear.
I quickly look for the mysterious app. The one that strikes me as odd is a brain-shaped one that’s called Stem Lock. Once inside, I see two profiles. Subject R. Subject K.
Romy. Kaitlyn.
Bile rushes up my throat.
I’m going to be sick. Morning sickness has chosen the wrong time to make its appearance.
I open my profile. It’s a bunch of scientific jargon that is confusing to me, but I do my best to read every part, memorizing all the details. Then I do the same for Kaitlyn. There’s no way to disable it from what I can tell. Knowing it’s there, though, is enough for now.
Seth groans in his sleep, making me freeze. Even my heart ceases to beat. Then I let out a relieved breath when he continues to snore.
The internet browser is easy to access. I search up Seth Portman. There are tons of articles with him and Doc Junior. They’re touted as “up and coming brilliant psychiatrists.” And I learn Doc Junior is the president’s son.
Somehow, that’s not a surprise to me.
I knew this.
How?
There’s a plethora of information inside of me. I just need to figure out a way to release it all. Stem Lock or whatever it is Seth and Doc Junior are doing to me is what’s keeping it from coming out.
I do a search for Caius but can’t come up with anything. It’s too broad. There has to be more I can use to search for him.
Unfortunately, my mind remains blank where he’s concerned.
When I try to access my social media accounts, they’ve been password protected and apparently I don’t know the password.
What do I do now?
Contact the police?
For all I know, they’ll think I’m crazy. Seth and Doc Junior could probably prove it, too. Besides, will the police believe me or the president’s son?
It takes a minute to create a social media account through the browser rather than its app, but I manage to do so. Dawn’s light begins to illuminate the bedroom, reminding me of my dwindling time.
Once I’ve finally set up the account, I locate my stepmother’s social media account and send her a friend request. Then I start typing out a message, hoping it doesn’t drop into a junk folder so she’ll actually read it.
It’s me, Romy. I’m being held captive by
The snoring stops, as does my typing. I remain stiff like a deer in the middle of the road as headlights careen for me. Seth’s hand stretches out and he pats my side of the bed.
He’s awake.
I send the half-written message, close the browser, and do my best to delete my evidence—all within about three seconds worth of time. I’m setting the phone down, just as Seth rolls toward me.
“Morning,” I murmur, crawling onto the bed with him. “What do you want for breakfast?”
His eyebrows are furled as if he’s suspicious of my behavior. I don’t let him question it, forcing my mouth to his, kissing him deeply as if he’s the love of my life.
I want to puke down his throat.
He relaxes and starts pawing at my sleepwear. The last thing I want to do is have sex with this man. I know he’s a monster, but if I don’t, he might discover my awareness.
I’ll be forced back to the lab.
The next time he and Doc Junior do their magic could be the last. I may never know the real Romy again.
So I let him remove my clothes, I let him crawl on top of me, and I let him stick his mediocre cock into me.
It’s then, with my eyes tightly closed shut as I endure the disgusting act, I think of him.
Caius.
Dark eyes that slice into me, cutting my heart and soul open.
Firm lips on mine, kissing me possessively.
His tongue between my thighs, lapping and tasting and sucking.
I can’t fully see his face, but I know I belong to him.
I have to find Caius.