Chapter 16
Chyanne
I’ve watched the days on the calendar as they slowly pass. Day after day of the same things. Derrick makes sure he feeds me three times a day, and I have access to the bathroom whenever I need it. He even somehow got my blood pressure medicine. I suppose I should be grateful for that, but I’m not because days have turned to months, and I’m still chained to this bed. My stomach grows every day and the baby gets bigger with time. I haven’t thought much about what I’m going to name him. I’ve been focused on trying to get out of here. I’ve almost talked Derrick into taking this chain off, even though he hits me every chance he gets. I play the good girl. I play the part I need to play in order to keep things slightly calm around here. And that includes playing nicely with him even while my face is bruised and broken.
Derrick walks in, and I force a smile as he sets the plate of food on the table next to the bed.
“How was your day?” I ask him as if I give a shit. I don’t. I wish he’d die. I wish he’d never come back, but then no one would ever know I’m here.
“It wasn’t bad. I’m so sick of construction work.”
“You should quit. Find something else,” I tell him. He runs his hand through his hair before looking over at me.
“You’re in a good mood.”
“I missed you. It gets lonely here,” I tell him lies. All lies.
“You missed me?” he asks, cocking his head.
“I did. It’s lonely.”
“If you weren’t trying to run, I could take the chain off.”
“I’m not trying to run, Derrick. I just want to be happy,” I lie a little more. I couldn’t be happy with him. I never truly was. He’s abusive and has been since he kidnapped me. I never thought he’d be the type to beat on a pregnant woman, but I suppose I should be thankful he hasn’t hit me in the stomach.
“Happy? You’re not happy?” he asks, sounding as if he truly believed I was.
“No. I’m chained to a bed. I can’t cook, watch TV, or anything.”
“You want more freedom?” he asks. I nod my head.
“I would like to be able to cook and clean up.”
“If I let you do that, you won’t run?” he asks, seemingly thinking about it. He seems a little calmer today. I’m almost positive he’s been using drugs, and that’s the stem of the anger in him. I’ve noticed the difference in him, but I haven’t commented on it.
“I won’t run. How could I?” I ask, nodding toward my stomach. He nods his head before pulling a key from his pocket and kneeling by my feet. He unhooks the cuff, and I listen as the chain hits the floor. I blow out a breath of relief when he stands back up and grabs my face in his hand.
“You run, and I’ll make you suffer. I will make that baby suffer,” he warns me as his fingers dig into the bruises that already linger on my skin. I nod my head, agreeing with him. I plan on running. I plan on getting the hell out of here, but I don’t know how yet. I don’t know where we are, although I remember how we got here. I could make it back to the clubhouse. Van would help me. I know he would.
“I won’t.” Lies. More lies leave my lips, but it’s what he wants to hear, and I’ll tell him anything at this point.
“Good. I’d hate to kill you before the baby is born. We’re naming him Junior.”
“We haven’t talked about names,” I tell him as he releases my face and steps back a little.
“We don’t need to. I already decided,” he declares before walking out of the room. I sit on the edge of the bed and roll my ankle around, testing it out without the damn chain hanging off it. I have to figure out a way out of here.
I stand back up and walk to the living room, finding Derrick sitting on the couch. I give him a soft smile as he looks up at me.
“Maybe you’ll listen better now that you’re free to walk around,” he says.
“I will.”
“Good. Go make dinner,” he orders. I nod my head and walk into the kitchen, searching for anything I could use against him. There are no knives here, nothing I can use to poison him. I sigh as I pull some noodles from the cabinet and a pan to boil them in. I could burn him with the hot water, but would I be able to run fast enough? Would I be able to get out of here? Shaking the thoughts away, I get to cooking dinner for him. Once it’s done, I put some on a plate and carry it to the living room, passing it to him.
“I think I like this better. I don’t have to cook for you,” he says as he eats the spaghetti I made. I sit down next to him, watching the TV for what seems like forever. I’m uncomfortable. There’s an ache inside of me, one I can’t get rid of. I miss Van. I miss Nicole. I miss working and breathing clean, fresh air.
I sigh as I sit back, and Derrick throws his arm around me.
“You can sleep with me tonight,” he says without looking over at me. My stomach recoils. I don’t want to sleep with him.
“I’m not feeling well,” I tell him. He sets his plate on the table and shifts so he’s looking at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t seen a doctor, Derrick. I don’t know what’s wrong. I just don’t feel well.” I have cramps, or what feels like cramps. Maybe that’s the Braxton hicks I’ve heard about. Or maybe it’s something more.
“You think you need a doctor? It’s too early,” he says, dismissing the idea something could be wrong.
“I think something’s wrong, Derrick.” Now, he shoves off the couch and paces the room, running his hand through his hair.
“It’s too early! You don’t need a doctor. I don’t have one ready yet!”
“I’m telling you something isn’t right, Derrick.”
“Fuck. Fuck!” He roars as he tugs at his hair now. He’s not what to do. He doesn’t know how to react, but I can feel it; something is off.
“If we go to the emergency room, you lie. Do you hear me? You fucking lie about your face!” I nod my head rapidly, knowing this is it. This is how I can get away from him. I can lie to him, but as soon as I can, I’ll call Van. He’ll know what to do. He’ll help me.
Derrick walks over and jerks me off the couch before leading me out the door. He ushers me into the car and then walks around to climb in. He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway quickly. He speeds through the streets on our way to the hospital as I worry about the baby. Is there something wrong with him? Could he be born early? I’m so wrapped up in worrying over him that I don’t pay attention when we pull up to the hospital. Derrick walks around and helps me out, leading me into the emergency room. The nurse looks up from her clipboard to my face and frowns. After taking my name and asking what’s going on, she pulls me away from Derrick, and I sigh. She leads me down a hallway while he’s escorted to the waiting room.
“Can you make a call for me, please?”
“Of course I can. The police will be notified as well,” she says as I shake my head.
“No, no cops, please. Just make this call for me.” I beg her. I’ll do whatever she wants me to do as long as she calls Van for me.
We get into a room, and she does what I asked. She calls Van.