Chapter 7
SEVEN
The plate in front of me is a plastic one. They’ve reused it for quite a while now, and I’d know because every time they feed me, I’d nip at the edge of the plate, thus marking how many days I’ve been in here.
This is the fourth plate, and each one had at least fifteen small nips.
Then again, I could’ve miscalculated a day or two.
And the food? Two boiled eggs, a slice of bread, and yogurt.
That’s everything they’d give me in a day.
Sometimes, if Zoe is around, she’d hand me something else: a banana, another slice of bread, or a small chocolate bar.
If I ever make it out of here, I’m never eating those again.
Everything they do is just to remind me that I’m their prisoner. Someone they’re forced to babysit, to watch over until Simmons decides it’s time for him to either kill me or use me for the purpose he brought me here for.
I’m still uncertain what that is.
The tension is at an all-time high here. Zoe’s constantly irritated, and she easily snaps at me. Which is odd, considering that at this point, she’s the only one giving me more food and keeping me alive. She’d let me bathe twice a week, all while being in the bathroom with me.
This house isn’t too big. It’s way smaller than Arlo’s mansion but definitely bigger than a normal person’s house.
Three floors, marble tiles, with golden details all across.
Old, expensive paintings scattered on the walls, subtle yet noticeable decorations, and those fucking plants that Zoe’s watering three times a day.
If I ever find a way out, I’m pissing in those pots first, then leaving.
There are fifteen bedrooms in total, some bigger, some smaller, and most unused, just furnished. I’m not allowed to move an inch without Zoe or one of their men being by my side. In fact, they’re monitoring the way I breathe.
The bedroom they’ve given me contrasts the rest of the house — it has nothing but a mattress on the floor, a pillow, a duvet, and a toilet in the corner.
The door is automatic, and it locks as soon as I’m inside.
If that wasn’t enough for them to ensure I wouldn’t try to escape, they added four cameras inside. Yes, four.
“Eat,’’ Zoe sneers, pushing the plate closer to me. Bile rises in my throat, and I have to force myself to bite into the bread. It’s not stale, but it’s too sweet for my liking. My stomach churns when the food hits it, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to handle this.
Zoe’s expression doesn’t change. There’s a scowl on her face, the same she’s had during my oh-so-lovely stay here.
From what I’ve gathered by eavesdropping, Adams hasn’t made contact since the night they kidnapped me.
She’s holding onto hope that he’s alive, but if Arlo has him, the chances of him still being around are slim.
My eyes subtly flick to the two men guarding the door, the guns safely holstered to their waists. A silent threat that I shouldn’t try anything. Their names are Sam and Cam — twins, and clearly, their parents weren’t very creative.
My thoughts wander off, and I try to distract myself from the terrible food. Yet, it’s next to impossible when all of my senses are filled with the taste and scent of boiled eggs. I swallow it down in one go, barely chewing, and gulp down the glass of water that’s next to the plate.
Impatiently, Zoe taps her fingers against the wooden table. Her eyes don’t leave my face, and she tries to school her features back to a neutral, stoic expression, but I can see right through her. It’s been over four months, and she’s getting restless.
Her hair is pulled into a tight bun, makeup done flawlessly, and she is dressed in the best quality clothes. Yet, none of that hides the fact that underneath the materialistic things, she’s unhappy.
She’s scared.
Because if there’s a possibility that Adams comes out of this mess alive, she’ll be on the receiving end of his anger. Somehow, I can’t find it in me to care. Arlo offered her a helping hand twice, and she stabbed him in the back. These are the consequences of her actions.
“All done.” I push the plate forward, and it takes her a moment to realize I’ve said something.
She sighs, picks it up, then puts it in one of the plastic bags, alongside the glass I’ve drunk from.
It’s to lessen my DNA on the kitchen appliances, and after I’m sent to bed, everything is wiped clean with bleach.
Every single surface of the house, all three floors, even the basement, to which I have no access.
“Good,’’ she nods. “Now, it’s bedtime. Cam, walk her to her room.’’
The man approaches me, grabs me by my elbow, and roughly pulls me from the chair. He starts dragging me in the direction of the bedroom, and I try my best to keep up with the pace he set. I can see a smirk tug on the corner of his lips, and my heart sinks to my feet.
Not again.
He pushes me into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. I back up, trying my best to create some distance between us, but in two quick steps, he closes the distance. The wicked gleam in his eyes makes me swallow thickly, and I know what’s in store for me.
His hand gently traces the contour of my collarbone, taunting me. In one swift motion, he rips my shirt open, and I close my eyes. They never go too far, just enough to scare me. To make me wonder just how far they’ll go, just how much of my sanity they’ll strip away.
His hands are all over me, and I’m paralyzed. My mind wanders off, and I dissociate. It’s something I learned to do on command, because otherwise, these people would’ve won. They would’ve seen me crumble, cry, and scream for them to stop.
Instead, it’s calm.
All I can think of in these situations is Arlo.
His laugh, that damned tooth gem that looks so perfect on him.
The memories we created together flood my brain, from the time I met him in prison to the time I bleached his hair.
All of it tugs on my heartstrings, and I’m praying I live long enough to see him again.
Even if I die some day, I want it to be next to him. In his arms, where I feel the safest. My personal Heaven, the reason I’m trying my best to stay alive.
“Silent, huh?” Cam’s voice reaches me, yet I can’t bring myself to respond. “Maybe I should actually fuck you one of these days. That ought to get a reaction out of you, huh?”
When I don’t respond, he chuckles. His hands drop from my body, and he steps back. His eyes linger on my bare upper body, and it’s disgusting the way he looks at me. Then again, I’ve been through so much worse before I went to prison — I can definitely handle this.
“Sleep. Simmons will come soon.’’
That snaps me out of the trance. Before I can ask anything, Cam leaves the room, and I hear the sound of the door locking behind him.
Questions start running through my head, and a sense of dread fills me.
I haven’t seen the motherfucker in too long, yet the fear slowly starts creeping up my body.
It’s always been there, hiding, waiting for him to reappear.
With a deep breath, I try to cover myself with the torn-up shirt, then realize it’s useless. Slowly, I climb onto the mattress, pulling the duvet up to my chin, curling into a ball underneath.
My eyes close, and the tears flow freely down my face.
The violation, the humiliation they’ve been putting me through are slowly starting to get to me.
I grew thicker skin, but it’s still not enough.
Anyone would break in a situation like this, and I’m no exception.
I just don’t let them see it. Because the moment they see it, it won’t matter what they do; they will have already won.
The moonlight shines through the wide window, falling right onto the corner of the room. I’m not sure what time it is, but I’d say between midnight and two in the morning, by the position of the moon. My eyes fall on the far corner of the room, the duvet covering everything but my eyes.
And there he is.
He’s sitting on the floor, knees lifted up, his arms resting on his knees. The rings I’m so accustomed to seeing are there, shining slightly. The turtleneck suits him perfectly, the white hair falling just down his nape.
“You’re here,” I murmur, careful not to stir too much.
“Aren’t I here every night?”
That voice soothes the ache in my chest. The deep, yet uncharacteristically soft sound reaches my ears, the most calming lullaby for my depraved soul. Arlo lifts a brow as he stares at me, the piercing eyes making my breath hitch.
Underneath the duvet, my fingers start twitching. I’m itching to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him. Just to be closer to him, to smell that signature scent of his, to hear the rumble of his chest as he laughs while hugging me tightly.
“You are,’’ I respond. “I miss you.”
“I know you do, butterfly,’’ his gaze and voice soften even more, and there’s a flick of longing in his eyes. “I miss you too. Every single day.’’
My chest tightens, and the pain shoots through my body. My vision gets blurred from tears, but I quickly wipe them away with trembling hands. I’m scared if I keep my eyes closed for too long, he’ll disappear.
“They’ve made you cry again.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the otherwise silent room. “You do know I’ll kill them all, right?”
“I know,” I whisper, voice cracking.
“I love you, Blair,” Arlo says, and somehow, that makes me cry harder. “I’m coming for you soon. Please, wait just a little bit more.”
“I know you are,” I respond, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hurry up, please.”
The plea reaches him, and his eyes are filled with agony I’ve never seen before. His throat bobs when he swallows thickly, but a look of determination replaces it.
“I’m coming, butterfly. Stay strong for me, please.’’
I nod, but when I blink, he’s gone.
A choked sob slips my lips, my throat aching. I know he’s not real. I know he isn’t here. But seeing him, night after night, is the only reason I’m still alive. It’s the only reason I still have a little sanity left, the reason I’m not letting these bastards see me break.
Because when the sun goes down and the moon is high up in the sky, it’s just the two of us. My Arlo, talking to me, walking me through this, not letting me crumble. Even when he’s just a fragment of my imagination, he’s still as attentive and as focused on me as the real one.
My hands tighten around the duvet, gripping it tightly. I snap my eyes shut, letting the tears soak the pillow under my head, and swallow thickly. I won’t die. I know he’s out there, waiting for me.
No, he’s looking for me.
I can feel it in my gut that Arlo won’t stop looking for me until he finds me. I know it will happen soon. My Arlo is coming to save me, yet again. It just goes to prove that I cannot live without him.
He’s my savior, the light in my dark world. The fallen angel that’s guiding me through all the twisted, through all the evil, and not letting me fall. Because if I do, he’ll be right there to catch me.