7. Kazia
7
KAZIA
I tugged on the nylon rope for the twelfth time, hoping that by some small miracle, it would unravel and I wouldn't be stuck in this bed.
Collapsing onto the bed, I puffed out a humorless laugh. This was how people went crazy. Trying and trying and never getting an inch closer to release. I sank my fist into the goose-down pillow and took my frustration out until a knock came at the door.
Jolting back as fast as I could, I ensured my back was against the wall, facing the door before it cracked open, and my guard immediately went up. The last man I thought I would see walked in.
“Hey, sweetheart.” The soft cocky smile crafted along his face both had my heart pumping and my eyes narrowing. He reminded me of all the guys at my college who had the looks of the swag but also had a number in their minds they needed to hit before they settled down with the woman their parents picked out for them.
Mr. Slick lifted a bottle of water. “You thirsty? Thought you might be after the drugs.”
What? Is it laced with poison? I bit my tongue, shaking off those thoughts. The stoic-looking one, Nicu, seemed to want to get more information out of me, which meant they wouldn't get rid of me yet.
He stepped closer, and I got a real good look at him. Man, was this man dripping in good looks. Perfectly combed hair with just a few strands of out of place, which gave him a devil-may-care look. His eyes swirled under the light, flashes of brown, green, and blue like they couldn't decide what color to be. It made a grand package with a perfectly proportioned face and chiseled jaw.
Leaning up against the bedpost, he threw the bottle next to me. His shirt was different than the one he came in with. This one was black, with the buttons all undone down his chest. The fabric clung to him, his muscles on display in just the right way to be tantalizing.
A piece of me wanted to roll my eyes and tell him off, tell him that his face and body couldn't cover up what he'd already shown, but then that would put me at a disadvantage, so I picked up the bottle, cracked it open and took a sip.
“If you couldn't tell, Cezar is a little…different.” His charming smile twitched before righting itself again. “We've tried to teach him how to treat a lady, but it just didn't stick.”
Kicking off the wall, the bed dipped next to me, and the urge to move away rode me hard. He lifted his hand, and I flinched, not knowing what game he was playing. I didn’t expect him to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I'm sorry you had to go through something like that.” His hand drifted down my shoulder, and I bit the inside of my lip, keeping the grimace from forming across my face. “Then having to deal with my older, scary brother. That’s a lot to take in twenty-four hours.”
What was his game? His angle? What was he after for him to switch the script? I needed to figure out what was happening, so I played along.
Looking down, I nodded my head quickly. “I-I just d-don't know w-what you guys want from me.”
He scooted so close that his sweet musk filled my lungs, making it hard to think of anything but him. It was both intoxicating and revolting. Don't you dare get Stockholm syndrome from this mother fucker, Kazia?
“That's why I want to help you.” His hot breath on my neck was enough to tantalize one's thoughts. His hand rested not on my knee but my upper thigh, his thumb rubbing slow small circles on my outer thigh.
He was good. Better than those frat bros I fended off at every party, in my classrooms. Hell, they even tried in line at the coffee shop, but they had nothing compared to this man. Even his eyes held a softness they could never pull off. He knew just the right buttons to push to make you want more while he skirted the line.
The only thing he couldn't hide was the tightness in his shoulders. He could hide the strain of playing his part if he wore more than a thin, tailored button-down.
I trembled, not from fear or because I was that good of an actress, but because I was trying to hold in my nervous laughter from busting out. Hold that shit in Kazia, you can’t break character. Trying to keep everything in was getting harder and harder to do. Something I promised myself I wouldn't need to do ever again.
His hand cupped my chin, lifting my face gently to his. His ever-changing eyes swirled from light to dark as he looked down at me. His lips tipped up, giving me a winning smile before he rested his head on mine, whispering to me like an old lover, but it was all a carefully crafted lie. “Let me make it up to you.” His caress on my thigh got warmer as the pressure increased, and my body liked it more than I wanted to admit. “Let me erase them from your mind.”
My body turned towards him like a flower to the sun, wanting to soak up those calculated words. Growing up without a father and the incident with my mom’s boyfriend all caused me to have a complicated relationship with men, one I didn't even realize until graduating with my bachelor's in psychology. Even knowing this, I still craved the attention, which made me hate this facade all the more.
If I was a better liar, I might’ve taken his offer and tried some seduction tactics, but I was not that girl. It was better to work with my strengths than my weaknesses. Cold hard bitch it was.
Letting a coldness settle in my words, I responded with the words I guessed would hurt him the most and put him off balance. “And how can you do that when you’re just the errand boy for your brother?”
His eyes flashed with a surge of rage, his jaw clenching as his hand got tighter on my leg. For a split second, I debated whether this was the right move. Did I want to go there with this man? Thinking about Cezar and his fight with him earlier, my fear and anger at my situation simmered along the surface, and my patience was running thin. I made a calculated move to poke the bear even more, I asked. “Seduce the woman and get her to spill all her secrets… isn't that a prostitute's game? Is that what you are?”
He shoved away from me so hard I fell backward; my body bounced on the bed as he stood there growling down at me. “What the fuck do you know, huh?!” He stared at me for a second; his body shook as hunger flickered in his eyes. Before I could dissect that, he was on me a second later, pinning my hands to the side of my head, the weight of his body crushing down on mine. The side of his face crashed into mine, his lips touching my ears as his vitriol filled his words. “If you know what's good for you, you’ll tell me everything you know about your mother.”
My wrists burned as he tightened his hands harder. He had the advantage, and I wasn't going to lie. I was scared. He seemed like he was unraveling, but I didn't know why. He couldn't have been rattled by my words, right?
Focusing on him and his body's reactions, I felt a wetness plop on my skin. Giving just a little flight, I moved my head to look at his face. Sweat collected on his forehead, his eyes shifted, and his breathing became erratic, like he couldn't get enough air. Something was going on with him, and it wasn't about me. Does this mean I have an opening?
If he’s not thinking straight, I might get a chance to get something out of him if I put enough pressure. Something I could use as some kind of leverage against the other brother, who seemed to be in charge. It was dangerous, but so was this whole situation.
“Are you okay? Do you need help?” I tried to switch my tone to be softer, but it came out judgmental and wrong.
His eyes narrowed on me before he slammed his forehead into mine. Pain split my head in two, and I couldn't keep a battered cry from spilling out of my mouth. “That's right,” his voice went dark and dangerous, and my heart skipped a beat, “That's the kind of sound you need to make when I'm on top of you.”
Shoving the pain and fear into the background, my anger reared its head at the most inopportune time. Baring my clenched teeth, I lifted my head just enough to get into his face. “I didn't think a fuck boy would be so happy to hear pitiful cries of pain. I should’ve known a small dick fucker can’t get any response from a woman but that.”
His eyes grew wide, almost like he couldn't believe what was coming out of my mouth, but I knew that once I got to a certain point when my anger took over, I would say whatever vicious thing I could, no thoughts for the repercussions. It's something I'm working on.
As soon as it came out, I braced myself for his retaliations. I imagined these men didn't have any qualms about hitting a woman.
When the pain I was expecting didn't come, and instead, I felt something long and hard grow against my thigh that threw my mind in a loop. That couldn’t be right. I just insulted him badly. His bewildered face told me that he wasn't expecting that either.
“Scorpions shouldn't play with mice… or was it a fly?” I snapped my head around to see Cezar leaning against the doorway. “No, that's crazy!” He furiously shook his head, stepping inside the room and letting the door shut. “Scorpions can't play with flies! They can't catch them. God, you're dumb, Cal!”
Ion popped up off me so fast it was almost like he was never there. Facing his brother with a brow lift, he spat out, “Don’t start your shit. I was just doing my job.”
As Cezar got closer, I saw blood dripping from the side of his head, and my first thought was to ask if he was okay… that was until a second later when I saw his pants splattered with it. “I was too, dear brother.” He waved at himself, “We’re the chess pieces for the others to play with.” He stopped before Ion, laughing one minute and growling in his face the next, “But I also warned you. Scorpions don't have good listening skills.”
The threat was apparent as he pulled out a bloody knife from the back of his pants and pointed it at his eye, Ion going still as Cezar continued. “And now I need to de-fang the scorpion.”
Instead of being scared or telling him off, Ion stood taller, stepping closer. Both brothers were toe to toe, and neither was willing to back down.
Maybe it was because I was tired of the blood, threats, and knives. Maybe I was just glad to see Cezar, the psycho who won’t let anyone hurt me. Maybe Stockholm syndrome was peeking its ugly head. I have no idea, but the words fell from my mouth before I could catch them.
“I’m fine Cezar. He didn’t harm me.”
His eyes finally slid over to me. His whole attention was intimidating as he scoured my body without a word. I doubled down. “I’m happy to see you're okay. I was worried about you.”
A giant jackal of a smile crept up his face before he arched the knife, Ion still not moving an inch when he stabbed it into the wall. He whispered something to Ion and then did a full turn before bouncing over to me. “Did you really, my wild Roma? That gives me spiders in my belly!”
“Do you mean butterflies?”
I noticed a pattern of his for mixing up well-known sayings. He probably didn't remember them.
“Nope.” He popped the P, motioning to his belly with both hands. “It's spiders because this slow crawl of excitement roams around in my belly when I'm around you.” He added his touch of psycho by spreading and curling his fingers over his belly, walking them around like spiders. “Then, every once in a while, you talk to me, and the spiders bite me.” His fingers dig into his abdomen to emphasize the bite. “Then I feel a euphoria as the poison surges through my veins.” His head lifted to the ceiling as he closed his eyes and swayed.
It was the most erotic, disturbing, cutesy, and psychotic definition of feelings I’ve ever heard. My heart was pumping harder as my mind was tipping to the side, saying, huh?
Studying in class, I never understood how psychotic killers had women who would gush about them and fantasize about them, even as they were in jail for their crimes. If they were anything like this, I think I now understand.
“Fucking hell. Don't tell me you like that insane babble?”
Ion's perfect face morphed into an ugly snarl, looking at me like I betrayed him. Did he forget that seconds ago, he was threatening me? That I said he couldn't please a woman?
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked away in a huff, not allowing me to answer, when Cezar got to his knees and rubbed his head in my lap like a puppy seeking attention. Good riddance, I thought as the door slammed shut.
A soft sigh came from below, and I looked down, seeing Cezar in utter bliss as my hands ran through his amber-golden locks. I didn't even know I was doing that. Even as it felt like my hand betrayed me, I kept going because it pleased the beast in my lap, and every inch I could get him on my side was worth it.
“They quiet when you touch me.”
“What?” I asked, not understanding what he meant.
“The voices. They stop talking when you touch me.” His hands slid up my thighs, cupping my ass, but it felt more like he was trying to hold on to me than it being sexual like Ion's touch. “They’re always yay yay yapping. Cal's the worst,” his nose scrunched up like a child being forced to eat broccoli.
The ‘voices’ made me curious, so I combed his hair, asking, “How many voices do you hear?”
He turned to the side; his eyes went far off, devoid of life, as he whispered, “Three. It's always the same three. Forever and ever.”
I kept silent, not knowing if I should push for more or take what I was given and wait for another opportunity. The more I learned about these men, the better my chances of getting away were.
His voice cracked, causing me to look down as he buried his face in my lap. “It's my fault. It always will be. Even if they say it's not, I know they're lying.” His fingers dug into me painfully; anger filled his voice in a split second. “I was weak! Pathetic!”
Before I could say a word, his hands moved, carving down the comforter like he had claws and was trying to rip it to shreds. “I won't let myself be like that ever again.” His hand rose, and I flinched, but it never came. Instead, I heard several smacks in a row, his hand slamming into his head repeatedly as he chanted, “Never again. Weak. Never again. Weak. Never again. Weak.”
With my heart pounding, I watched in horror for a few seconds. I’ve watched recorded episodes before and read articles from the point of view of the patient… but seeing it with my own eyes was another reality.
The fear I've been constantly hiding melted away with each hitting sound. Something about his deep anguish and pain called not to the woman who wanted to analyze him but to the soul inside of me. The echoes of pain in his eyes transported me to a time I tried to forget, to a little girl who was weak against those who wished her harm. My chest burned as those old scars on my soul ripped open, bleeding alongside the man who was punishing himself over and over for the same sin—the sin of being innocent and weak in a cruel world.
Thud. Thud. Thud. I jerked at each pounding of his fists like he was striking me. Something inside of me rose, telling me that this was wrong. We were not the problem; it was the world we lived in. Circumstances that were out of our control.
No. No more.
Not thinking about the consequences, I grabbed his hands, pulling at them with all my might to stop him. Words circled my brain, screaming at him. To stop hurting yourself. Stop blaming yourself. You didn't know any better!
Cezar jerked to a stop, surprising me when his face turned up. Did I say that out loud? Feeling swirled inside me, old wounds of my desperation mixed with the empathy I felt for this soul before me. I couldn't stand here and do nothing anymore.
Blood ran in rivets down his face, a gruesome, scary look that would make anyone run for the hills to get away, but I wasn't scared when I looked into his wide eyes that held something even more dangerous—a sliver of hope.
“Did they tell you that, my Roma? Did the voices tell you to say that?”
His voice hitched at the end, and the mixture of disbelief and reverence rang clear. My bleeding heart couldn't lie to him, so I shook my head, wishing I could hear them. “No. I didn't hear your voices.” Looking down at my lap, cheeks flushed at having my feelings, ones I have kept locked up tight, on display. “I know what it's like to feel weak and alone. To find ways to blame yourself just to cope, but…” I took a deep breath, reminding myself that at least if I died, only the crazy one saw this side of me.
Lifting my hand, I cupped the check of the rapid beast dripping in blood, making my own hands run red again. “It's a lie.” I fell forward, resting my forehead on his as I tried to tell him the truth, one survivor to another. “We need to accept our situation and tell ourselves we did our best. That's it.”
His eyes closed as he shook his head, not wanting to believe me. The school books would tell me to back off and let the client realize on their own, and I should do that, especially in my situation, but my heart wouldn't let me.
Grabbing his face with both hands, nails digging into his skin, I yanked his head. “Look at me, Cezar.” He cracked open his eyes, his hands hovering over mine, but I had his full attention. “You did nothing wrong.”
“But you don't know, wild Roma, you don't know what I did!”
The agony from his voice filled the room, making it hard to breathe, but I pushed through. Something deep inside of me craved those same words. “Did you do it because you wanted to? Was it your idea? Was your hand not forced?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not me… but…”
“But what?”
His hands clutched at his chest. “It's in me. In my blood.” He tugged at his shirt collar, scratching his nails so deep they were making bloody tracks. “I can't escape it.” His eyes went wild, skittering around the room, getting distant, lost in his head, and not how I was used to.
An idea hit me, one that could snap him out of it. I grabbed hold, not thinking of the consequences, just wanting to see that look disappear from his face. Tugging on the back of his neck, I proclaimed, “Yes, you can,” and slammed my lips onto his.
An acidic copper taste hit my lips, and I pushed through it, desperate to snap him out of his episode.
Using my teeth on his lips, I bite down, hoping the extra jolt of pain will help get his head straight…or at least enough to get him to his regular state. He let out a long, torturous moan before he grabbed me, deepening the kiss further than I originally wanted, but I didn't stop him.
His lips were surprisingly soft. For a second, I pulled him in tighter, losing myself in the feel of a man. Once he kissed me back, the kiss took on a whole nother tone.
His hand slid down my back, pushing just enough to get me bending to his will. He turned my frantic, rough kiss into a smooth, sensual exploration. The copper taste disappeared, turning sweet, and I found my hands curling into his shoulders, clinging to that sweetness.
I haven't been with a man in so long, having only a couple of one-night stands to scratch that itch. Men always told me I was too ‘on guard’ and ‘focusing on my studies’ to have a meaningful relationship. While they weren't wrong, I also didn't feel that everlasting spark my mom always talked about, but for some reason, this crazy man had stirred my soul, and I don't know what it meant.
His hands skimmed my waist, causing my skin to shiver. That bolt of lust that took over me jolted my body, and a bolt of reality hit me. I was making out with an insane person. Someone who kidnapped me. Whose brothers won't hesitate to hurt me? What the fuck are you doing, Kazia?!
Even worse, I could be seen as taking advantage of him in his unstable state. It was unethical. Wrong.
Breaking away from him, my breathing came out in huffs, and I realized that I needed to approach this carefully. I looked into his emerald jeweled eyes, trying to keep my mind off what my body craved. “Cezar, I didn't-”
“It's alright, my Roma. We can take it slow.” He set his cheek on my collarbone, sighing out, “You're my anchor. I know that now. Even when I sail far, far away into the deep blue sea, you are the chain that brings me back to shore. Those nasty sharks and pirates can’t get to me with you around.”
The more he spoke, the worse I felt. What was wrong with me? Taking advantage of him like that. I know better and was taught better. Maybe…. I'm going through an episode, trying to survive and romanticizing it all in my head. Yes. I was trauma responding.
Then why did the Romani soul inside tell me I was wrong?
Cezar's head popped up, getting right in my face with a lopsided smile, “I knew when they spoke, I needed to listen, especially when M speaks.” His finger trailed down my neck, stopping at the top right above my breast. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don't want to hear the voices again just yet. I like it when it's just me and you in here.” He pointed to his head as he chuckled, waiting for my answer.
“Sure.”
I wanted to kick myself. I had an out, a way to create some distance and boundaries, and instead, I went with the gut answer again. Fuck me.
He turned my legs, putting them on the bed as he made room for himself, covering both of us with the blanket.
I needed to make sure he understood nothing else would happen, so I had to have some small bit of morals tonight. Before I could open my mouth to lay down the law, he pushed me down and curled into my side with one arm over my stomach and his chin on my shoulder.
He yawned, “Usually, the sleep bugs buzz around my head, and I swat them away, but tonight I think I’ll let them win.” Burrowing in deeper, he laid still, mumbling about anchors and demons until his breathing became even, and I knew he was asleep.
After a while of berating myself internally, his steady, warm breathing against my skin caused my eyes to drop. Grabbing the blanket to pull it up, my eyes caught on red streaks. It was a clear reminder that while he might be like a puppy right now, he was a rottweiler waiting for his master's command.
A voice crept up in the back of my head… You could be that master.
Shaking the thoughts away, I adjusted the blanket so I didn't have the blood on my face, and I fell asleep in the arms of a psycho.