4. Elyse
CHAPTER 4
ELYSE
I t never made sense to me why some people are afraid of the dark. Sure you can’t see anything, but I think there's a certain kind of peace which can only be found in the darkness. It isn’t what’s in the dark you should fear but instead the people hidden in plain sight. They’re the ones you never anticipate doing something bad. A friend, your parents, a police officer. It’s always the ones who are supposed to protect you who end up failing. So in my mind the real monsters aren't those hiding in the shadows but instead the ones sitting in the light.
My thoughts drift with the sudden sensation of floating. It’s hard to figure out if I’m awake or asleep. Everything feels the same. Dreams, or memories—who knows which?—spiral around me.
I'm in Sebastian's foyer, lying on something cold, but the edges of my vision are fuzzy. The room beyond is the study, where Sebastian works sometimes. Not often, though. Most of the time he seems to want to avoid the room.
He's there now, and something in me shifts, easing. I can breathe, except each breath hurts. How can he be so beautiful and so brutal at the same time? He's arguing with someone, but I can't see them through the hazy halo obscuring my vision. There's a bottle of alcohol in his hand, and he's waving it around. I want to call out to him. Beg him to come and get me. Save me, anything. But I can't speak. I can't move. I can barely breathe.
"You can't do this, owning people like this for your sick perversions!" Sebastian shouts, and the words echo in my head.
"Sick perversions, boy? You don't think I know what you get up to with your little school sluts? Or your own stepmother, for that matter?"
Sebastian goes rigid and takes a long drink of the alcohol. Something uneasy worms its way through my belly. There's a metallic clicking sound somewhere, maybe the man with the older deep voice. He steps closer to Sebastian, and finally his face comes into view.
White hair styled elegantly, a perfect tuxedo, collar undone at the throat.
There's not much of a resemblance to Sebastian outside of the way the man carries himself, so very restrained and rigid.
The memory fades, and I drift in and out, my world tilting on its axis even more.
Sebastian holding a gun. Sebastian kneeling by the crumpled form of his grandfather. Sebastian reeling around the room, drinking his bottle of alcohol in gasping gulps.
He killed him. Sebastian killed him. Horror shimmies its way up my spine.
Then nothing. Blessed blackness until I open my eyes and find myself back in the other nightmare. It's funny. I'd take Sebastian's nightmare over anyone else's. Even if it kills me.
Hot tears cascade down my cheeks, and it takes me a second to breathe through the sobs that seem to come unbidden. I press my hands over my mouth to stifle the sound so Yanov doesn't hear me.
The more attention I draw to myself the worse it is. My priority should be to get out of here but my body feels leaden, unable to move, to even think of a proper plan. The memory, because I know now that's what it was, keeps replaying in my mind, reminding me Sebastian is not my savior in all of this.
He’s as dark and fucked up as everyone else.
He killed his own grandfather.
Murdered him without thought or care and walked away.
I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. What kind of person are you to be capable of something like that? From what I remember, his grandfather was not a nice man, but still. We can’t play God. We just can’t.
Bile claws its way up my throat once more.
How could I have given myself to him?
He’s no better than my father, than Yanov. I squeeze my eyes shut and settle against the wall.
What’s the point? Where do I go from here?
Safety feels a million miles away. The hope of someone, anyone, saving me becomes a distant dream. I'm never going to get away from Yanov, and he's going to kill me in this nasty motel room. Worst of all, he’ll get away with it. No one will know I'm here except maybe my asshole father, and even then he's not going to do anything to stop him. To help. Nothing. There will be no justice for me.
The door swings open, and I try to pin myself to the back of the closet. It's a stupid idea since there is nowhere for me to escape. A tiny squeak of fear escapes me when Yanov reaches inside and sinks his meaty fingers into my arm with bruising force. With little effort, he tugs me across the crusty carpet like I’m a rag doll. I lash out, slapping at his hands. When my useless attempt doesn’t seem to work, I dig my nails into his skin, scratching him. He doesn’t even flinch.
In fact, he doesn’t appear to be bothered by it at all. It’s like he doesn’t even feel pain.
"Keep fighting, my little dove. It makes my cock hard as steel, because we both know that soon you will submit to me.” He smirks at me.
I tilt back to keep as much distance between us as I can. Even if I want to give up, to sit here and wait for death to find me, my brain's first instinct is to do something, to formulate a plan. I’m not a quitter. Never have been.
Then fight back. If you’re going to die, at least do it with some dignity.
He continues to drag me across the carpet, and the skin on my knees burns while I gather the strength to stand. I swallow a hiss of pain and know the only way I can fight back is if I get to my feet. My legs ache with the effort as I shove off the floor. I’m wobbly, and any semblance of balance is gone, but I don’t let it stop me.
“Please don’t…” I plead, even though begging has never worked in the past.
“Why? It’s more fun to watch you struggle.” He laughs.
For every stepforward he takes, I try to pull us backwards, at least slowing our progress. I grit my teeth against a wave of nausea clawing up my throat, the jarring movements making it worse.
I can’t give up, not yet.
Then suddenly, his hold on my arms disappears.
What the hell? With both hands he takes me by the shoulders and presses his thumbs deep into my collarbone. Searing pain radiates through my chest, and limbs, immobilizing me.
He tilts his head to the side, a sinister smile tugging at his lips. "I was trying to be nice, but you don’t like nice, do you?”
“Stop, you’re hurting me,” I cry out as he digs his thumbs in a little harder.
“Hurting you? All I wanted to do was give you a shower, but since you don’t want a shower I guess we can get right to it.”
He releases me with a shove, and my legs give out on me, and I fall to the floor, landing on my knees. Pain ripples up my thighs from the impact, and I clench my jaw to stop from whimpering.
Like a lion, he pounces on me. "Is that what you want, Ely? Would you rather have my cock than a shower?”
No. Stall. Find a way.
I duck my head, and tuck my chin to my chest, stopping the resistance. "Yes, no, please… I’m sorry. A shower sounds…” I gulp hard and try not to puke again. "It sounds nice."
Knowing that’s what he wants to hear and that I play into his fantasy so well makes me want to cry. I barely manage to blink back tears. If I start crying again, he’ll claim victory. Tears only mean he’s getting what he wants, that he’s breaking me down.
"That was my thought as well, but I don’t know that you deserve a shower. Not after the little fit you threw.” His fingers clasp my chin, and even if my instinct is to pull away, I don’t.
I let him touch me, because if I have any chance at surviving I need him to believe me. Believe I want this. I want him.
“Please…” I cringe, my insides tightening to the point of pain. “I’m sorry. It’s just…a lot has happened. I… I missed you.”
It’s a lie. A terrible lie I hate uttering, but if I can make him believe me then my chances of escape grow.
“Is that right, Little Dove? You missed me?”
I lift my head and look him in the eyes, “Yes. I missed you.”
Something soft flickers in his eyes, and then it’s gone. “Fine. Let me wash you, and then you can show me just how much you’ve missed me.”
I flinch at his response, but he doesn't appear to notice as we stumble into the bathroom together, him partially carrying me.
The bathroom is grungy to say the least, with only one out of the four lightbulbs above the mirror working. A shower stall in the corner barely fits us both and he steps inside first, fully clothed. I breathe through my nose and try to remain calm.
Reaching for me, he rips the scraps of shirt and my underwear off my hips. I squeeze my eyes closed, sinking deep into the confines of my mind to ignore what is happening in the present, like I used to all the other times he got his hands on me.
"I always forget how beautiful you are," he whispers against my neck and his erection digs into my ass. Please…if there is a God out there…spare me from this evil man .
He turns the handle for the water, and it stutters out in an uneven spray directly on my face. I sputter and gasp for air while he lets the water choke me.
"I'm going to release you so I can wash you properly. But I swear, if you try anything, you will regret it.” His voice is sharp, a barbed wire digging into my skin. It’s not a warning; it’s a promise.
I remain silent since I know it's what he wants. We’ve played this game before.
He grabs a washcloth and a bar of soap from the counter and then stares at me with a look of malice-tinged glee. "Let me clean you up, Little Dove.” He scrubs me with the cloth, his fingers spreading and working through the scratchy cotton until my skin is raw.
I’m helpless. It’s how he likes me. All I can do is stand here, swallowing soft cries, while I keep my eyes trained on him, watching...waiting...for the inevitable signs things will go bad.
My skin crawls as his hands skim up and down my sides, dipping between my thighs. I barely resist the urge to clamp my legs closed but remind myself of the consequences at the last moment. If I do, he'll punish me for denying him what he wants, what is his.
The longer I hold out, the easier it will be to escape.
He dips his fingers up to prod between my legs and then further back, and this time I can’t hold back the tears. Shame burns through me as those tears escape.
"Little Dove, he hasn't fucked you here yet?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, and merely continues as if he hadn’t asked me a question. “Hmm. Nevermind, I already know the answer. Good. This hole will be mine. All mine."
Gently, almost reverently, he prods against my asshole. Breathing becomes impossible as fear claws its way through my insides, using my ribcage as a ladder.
He’s going to hurt me again. Take until there is nothing left.
A whimper slips out of me, and his mouth slides along the side of my neck, and then it happens. Suddenly I’m outside my body, watching like a bystander on the street. I don’t get what is happening as I watch myself reach up and grab the shower head. A cold wave washes through me, soothing the aches and pains. Calming me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. It detaches from the wall after a brief struggle, and I stare at myself bringing the metal piece down on Yanov’s head.
He stumbles backward, as if dazed. A longing for revenge and peace rips me apart from the inside out. An anguished cry filters through the pounding drum of my heartbeat, and I lift the shower head and bring it down again, smashing it against his skull. I do it again. And again. More. Harder. Faster. Watching as he falls to his knees. Water continues to spray down on us, washing some of the blood splatter down the drain, while the rest smears and dots the tile wall.
Fight back, you coward. Be the man you always said you were. Hit me.
I want to scream the words, but they never escape. In the end, there is nothing left to say. Nothing will change what must happen. To truly be free, you must break the chains holding you in place. My hands are trembling as an involuntary shiver skates down my spine. I sink back into my body, the cold giving way to pain, a deep dark ache in my chest. Oh my God. What have I done?
Some part of me always knew how this would end. One of us dead. I should be thankful it’s not me...and yet. Nausea churns deep in my gut. His leg twitches, brushing mine.
End it. End him.
Raising his hands first, then he lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “Ely, don’t do this. You aren’t a killer. This isn’t you.”
His words slur, and he tries to stand, but he can’t seem to get his legs to work.
But his eyes. Those dark, soulless orbs tell another story. Even with his life hanging in the balance, the evilness inside of him bleeds through.
The promise of pain and retribution reflect back at me.
No. This ends now. Today. I will never be his plaything again.
“You have no idea who I am.” I grit the words through my teeth, and then I pull back and smash the metal against the side of his head again. Blood splatters across my stomach and the wall, and I stare down at it.
I should be freaking out, worried about what will happen next, but none of those things matter. A strange sense of calm coats me from the inside, healing some of the deep wounds he left so many years ago.
I’m safe, protected. After today he’ll never hurt me again. I’ll never be faced with running again.
I don’t think, don’t even feel as I raise the shower head and let it fall, hitting him with it again...over and over. Each blow is harder and faster than the previous. My lungs heave, and my muscles burn, my heart galloping in my chest.
“I will kill you, Elyse!” He says in a vicious growl as his hand clamps my arm in a death grip. I struggle in his grasp, and there’s a sharp crunch, then a wave of pain as something in my arm gives way. I know there should be more pain, that I should feel something, but I don’t.
It doesn’t register in my mind that I might have a broken bone, not while he’s still breathing. My only objective is to end his life, to ensure he can never hurt anyone else ever again.
My vision blurs, and I shove through the exhaustion, fear guiding me, reminding me that if I don’t kill him, he will surely end me when this is over. I’m not sure how much time passes, but soon he’s slumped against the floor. I wait. Barely breathing, watching until his chest no longer rises and falls. That I can’t hear his phlegm wheeze any longer.
I’m numb, unable to feel anything for the dead man in front of me. I look away from his body, and take a trembling step back, the shower head slipping from my hands.
The reality of what I’ve done finally catches up with me, and my heart lurches inside my chest.
I’ll never be free.
There is no escaping the consequences now. Pinpricks of pain zing up my arm as I lift it, pressing my hand to my stomach.
There's a throbbing there, a dull ache, but I know all too well that once the adrenaline wears off the pain will be more severe. I need to come up with a plan. I need to call for help. I stumble into the bedroom and freeze. There is no one to call for help. No one can save me.
Once my father finds out, everything will be over. I will be trapped in his dark web all over again. He'll use this against me. He'll hold it over my head until he can get everything he can out of me. My body, my life, my soul. All of it. I’ll be left with nothing.
Panic wraps around my throat, tightening its grip, until I can’t suck another breath into my lungs.
I’m a murderer.
I killed him.
My knees give out on me, and I crumble, my body landing on the floor. I don’t even feel the pain of falling, or the scratch of the carpet against my skin. There’s only the choking panic slowly strangling the life out of me.
Ahead, my shirt is on the floor.
No. Sebastian's shirt.
Sebastian.
The man I love, or rather loved .
I don’t know who he is, or if the version of him I knew was ever really real. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. There is no future for us. He’s nothing but a liar. A liar and a murderer. Of course, I’m a murderer now, too, but even thinking of him and how easily I fell for him makes me ashamed.
In some ways, he’s no better than my father or Yanov.
Gritting my teeth, I crawl across the floor, my hurt tucked to my side.
I sit back and reach for the shirt with my good arm. It takes everything inside me to remain sitting upright. I’ve never been so tired in my life.
Slowly, as if there is a heavy weight pressing down on my limbs, I tug the shirt over my head, using my uninjured arm. Halfway through I have to stop and catch my breath. The pain, the fear, the adrenaline catches up with me coiling in my chest, and my body betrays me.
Tears leave cold trails down my cheeks. The early morning sun peeks through the drapes, the rays of sunlight dragging my attention back to my hands. I stare at my fingers. Blood stains my pale skin. His blood. Panic, and urgency push all my other emotions aside. I need to get out of here. Leave before the cops show up, or worse, my father.
There will be plenty of time to contemplate my choices, to wonder if I did the right or wrong thing, but now is not the time for questions. Right now, I need to protect myself. To put as much distance between me and this place as I can.
Using the bed as an anchor, I stand. Then I walk across the room to the door, unlock the deadbolt, and tug it open. I’m momentarily blinded by the rising sun, but once my eyes adjust I peer around the mostly vacant parking lot.
I recognize Yanov’s car in one of the spots. I could take it, then ditch it later if need be. It would be the fastest way out of here. A quick, clean getaway. And right now that’s what I need.
Turning around, I head towards the nightstand to grab Yanov’s car keys.
Stupid. I’m so stupid. He wouldn’t leave his keys right out in the open. My heart sinks into my stomach when I reach the vacant nightstand. Taking his car would be the smartest option, but not if I have to touch him to get the keys. The mere thought of reaching into the pocket of his pants repulses me.
Oh God. I think I’m going to vomit. I press a hand to my mouth to stop myself and then head back to the door. Except this time when I go to walk out there’s someone standing in the doorway, blocking my exit. No, not someone, several someones.
I blink and focus all my attention on the one person that means the most to me. Is this real?
Sebastian.
It can’t be. He’s not really here. It’s all a terrible dream. But then he steps inside, his hand reaching for me, closing around my upper arm. It can’t be real. A sudden burst of joy fills me, but is just as fast swept away by the bitter tang of reality. He’s a killer. He killed his grandfather. He kept me in his house under the ruse that he was caring for me, but that was only half of it. He also needed to make sure I didn’t reveal his secret, and now that I remember... What will he do to me when he finds out I know?
I’ve escaped one monster, only to be captured by another.
"Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you."
I open my mouth to tell him it won’t be okay; I know what he did; but the memory of that night in his grandfather’s study slams into me, taking me out at the knees, leaving me paralyzed in the dark.