Chapter Eleven
No Going Back
Charlotte
W ith the exception of being handcuffed, this has been the best birthday I've ever had. I didn’t have to worry about my mother and her unpredictable moods. No more walking on eggshells around her or the men she brought home. For once, I felt like I could breathe.
I slept in, not waking up until after eleven.
I don't remember a time I ever felt safe enough to sleep at home, like really SLEEP.
There, deep sleep always eluded me. I'd lie awake, too anxious to fully let my guard down, hovering in that hazy limbo between sleep and wakefulness.
But last night, I slept soundly. No nightmares haunted me; no fear kept me awake.
The room was quiet, the bed was comfortable, and I felt a strange sense of safety and freedom being in it despite my situation.
Ironically, I felt freer than I had in a long time.
I felt free from the worry of where my next meal would come from, free from abuse and threats of men like Corey.
Those feelings of freedom and safety had nothing to do with the bed I slept in—it was the man I shared the bed with.
I feel so many conflicting emotions, as I lay here taking in my surroundings. On one hand, I’m at Silas's mercy, but on the other hand, he rescued me and offered me protection .
I know I should be afraid of him. I should want to escape, and a part of me does. But another part of me, the bigger part, doesn't want to ever leave this bed. I’m torn between knowing what's right and how I should feel, and my growing sense of gratitude and loyalty to Silas.
I’m not letting him in on that little secret—at least I’m trying not to. It's going to be easier said than done. Especially when I woke up to find he had made sure I was taken care of before he left. There are two sandwiches sitting on the nightstand, fruit, and a few granola bars.
Usually, anytime I have money, I try to make it stretch as far as possible. I would never splurge on fruit. With just a few dollars, I can buy a box of pasta and a loaf of bread. It isn’t much but it’s enough to fill my stomach and last me a few days.
It’s when I reach to pick up a sandwich, I notice the chain and the extra reach I have. It looks like Silas made sure I had enough length so I could freely use the bathroom. I can’t believe I slept through him doing that.
Biting into one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I notice he has even taken the time to make them with the peanut butter on both sides of the bread, so the jelly didn’t make the bread soggy. I finish the first sandwich in mere moments and immediately reach for the other.
I'm not just hungry for food, I realize. I'm hungry for the twisted version of protection and stability that Silas and his home can offer me. If earning his trust is what it takes, that’s exactly what I’ll do to keep it.
I turn on the TV and begin flipping through the channels until I land on the local news.
My eyes scan the screen anxiously. I watch, for what feels like an eternity, waiting for any mention of Corey's body being found, or the fire we started that consumed his house. I watch for over an hour, but there’s nothing.
No mention of a murder or an arson investigation.
Just as I’m about to give up and turn off the TV, a breaking news story flashes across the screen, immediately capturing my attention.
The news anchor announces they have a reporter live on the scene of a newly developing story.
My breath catches in my throat, and I expect to see the flashing lights of police cars sitting outside the charred remains of Corey’s home.
But when the live feed fills the screen, what I actually see surprises me even more.
Noticing a familiar figure, I lean forward to get a closer look. There standing confidently in the middle of chaos is Silas. He’s in the background behind the reporter, giving orders and directing the other officers around him.
"An emergency call came in earlier today, alerting Fairfield County authorities to a suspicious box left on a local farmers property." The reporter’s voice fills the room around me.
The camera zooms in on the large rectangular box, scorched in ash and soot.
But it isn’t the box the officers are gathered around that my eyes are drawn to.
No, it’s the single white rose lying on top of it.
My eyes dart across the room to the vase of white roses on Silas’s dresser, remembering his words from the night before.
I don't kill innocent people, Charlotte.
No, it's just a coincidence. But could it be...? No, that's crazy. I shake my head, trying to dismiss the thought. It's completely insane to think Silas could possibly be him—the serial killer who has been leaving victims behind in our community.
The reporter continues, "All we know at this time is that a single white rose has been found at the scene. We will bring you more information as it comes available throughout the day. Detectives have just arrived, and their investigation is underway. It’s being assumed by local authorities who did the initial walkthrough of the scene that this may be the newest victim of the White Reaper.
Tom, we will return to you in the studio until further details emerge. "
I switch off the tv and toss the remote onto the bed beside me. I sink back down onto the mattress and my eyes are drawn again, almost against my will, to the roses on Silas’s dresser. This is just my overactive imagination. It has taken the idea and is now running wild with it .
But what if it isn't just my imagination?
Everything I know about Silas contradicts the tales I've heard about the White Reaper.
The Reaper is described as a merciless, cold-blooded killer.
But Silas... He's not like that, at least not all of him. I witnessed a dark, ruthless side of him with Corey, but with me, he’s different.
He's been gentle. He saved me when he didn’t have to, and he cared for me when he had no reason to.
That doesn’t sound like a heartless killer, devoid of any humanity to me. He’s shown me the exact opposite over and over again.
I was angry and hurt when he cuffed me to the bed, but I also understood his reasons for doing it. I may be young, but I’m not stupid. But just because I understood, doesn’t mean I have to pretend to be okay with it either.
I begin to question my own sanity. Silas has been gone for hours, and I haven't made any attempts to escape. Maybe I am insane because I’ve only known him for a day and despite everything I’ve seen, I still trust him. I don't want to leave the safety of this house, or Silas.
"Char, wake up." Silas's deep voice sounds distant. I pull the covers tight over my head trying to block the light. I hear his low laugh just before I feel the mattress dip behind me.
"Charlotte," he says again, closer this time. I feel his hand grasp my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake. "Wake up. I brought you something. You have to open your eyes to get it. "
I want to resist and continue sleeping, but his words pique my curiosity. I groan as I turn away from him and onto my side. "I am awake," I mumble from beneath the sheet.
Silas pulls the sheet back down exposing my face, dragging the loose hairs that have escaped my ponytail across my face with it. I feel the rough pads of his fingers glide across my cheek, gently pushing the hair back from my face. I crack one eye open, and he chuckles.
"Not awake enough," he says playfully. Then with one swift motion the covers are ripped off of me and I’m being picked up from the bed and thrown over his shoulder.
"Silas, stop!” I smack his ass with my good arm. I’m not sure if I’m more annoyed with Silas for manhandling me or myself for noticing how firm his ass is. My legs kick involuntarily as he carries me with ease. “How often do you work out? And would you stop doing this!? I can walk, you know."
"I know you can.” The amusement I hear in his voice just annoys me further. “But I’m an impatient man."
I scowl and just as I'm about to swat his ass again, I notice we are no longer in the bedroom. We’ve entered the hallway and my chain is gone.
"Where is my chain and how in the hell do you keep getting it on and off without waking me up?" I question looking at my naked wrist.
He just laughs, the low rumble sending vibrations throughout my body.
"Miss it, do you? Don't you worry. My princess will have her jewelry back and will be returned safely to her tower soon enough."
I'm confused as to why we are walking out the back door of his home, but I'm too irritated by him right now to ask. That irritation seems to disappear, when I feel his hands grip my body as he slowly lowers me down until my bare feet hit the cool stone of the patio .
"You're such a—" My words are cut off when he spins me around so fast that I stumble. Silas catches me by the waist to steady me and keep me from falling over. I’m breathless for a moment, and it’s not from the sudden movement. What I see leaves me feeling so many emotions that I can’t even begin to name or explain and I’m struggling to make sense of the rush of foreign feelings.
On the wooden table in the center of the patio, sits the prettiest cake I've ever seen.
The table is filled with a plethora of takeout containers.
And if that wasn't enough, there's a present, too.
A large bright purple gift bag with a colorful balloon tied to its handle, bobbing gently in the breeze.
I stand there, my feet rooted to the ground, unable to move or speak.
This is all so unexpected, I can’t process it.
My hands curl into fists at my side, then relax, over and over, as I struggle to keep myself composed.
I don’t want to cry, and I definitely don’t want to give into the overwhelming urge to turn around and throw my arms around Silas.
I need something to occupy my hands, to stop myself from reaching for him.