Chapter 32 – Bellamy
BELLAMY
The worst part about this place—other than the fact that I’m trapped with no way out—is the silence.
I screamed my ass off for the better part of yesterday, but considering we drove for a while to get here and went down a pretty rough road, I’m guessing this structure is in the Middle of Nowhere, Messalina.
That’s actually not a difficult place to come by in this country either, so I know it’s very likely that there is no one around for miles and miles. At least no one close enough to hear me scream and come to my rescue.
I tried getting creative and tapping into old movies I’ve seen. Ones where the main character takes the bed linens, ties them in a knot to create a rope, somehow manages to affix it to the window, and then scales the wall to climb out.
I tried that.
I stripped the rough fabric from the mattress, knotted the ends together, and created a makeshift rope that I tossed toward the unreachable window, praying it’d catch on something.
It took about a dozen tries to even get the rope near the window, and when I was able to hit it, the rope simply bounced off the glass and fell back down onto the bed.
Probably because there is nothing up there for it to latch on to.
The window is this tiny, crud-covered piece of glass that seems to have been cemented in there somewhat recently as there are still fingerprints on it.
Even if I somehow got the rope up there and climbed my pregnant ass up the wall, I’m not even sure I’d be able to break the window or punch it out, and even then, I’m not sure I’d fit out of it, because I’m pregnant with twins and my proportions are a hot mess.
Which means I’m fully stuck here until Charlotte decides to come back and feed and water me like I’m a pet. If that even happens. For all I know, she could be cozying up to Sebastian, who is angry I left him, and that could be that.
Bellamy forgotten.
Except I know that won’t happen. I know Sebastian won’t do that, and when he realizes I’m gone and not just “taking a break,” he’ll move heaven and hell to come find me.
At least I hope he will.
Part of me already knows he’ll use this as another example of the curse.
It’ll be another reason to push me away and out of his life.
If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do other than be the most heartbroken woman on the planet.
But I can’t think like that right now. I have to stay positive.
I have to try to imagine Sebastian will figure this all out and come looking for me.
But, until then, I can’t sit idly like a damsel in distress and hope the king rescues me. As my life has proven, this isn’t a fairy tale. This is life and death. Again.
I sigh at that as I take in the room for the hundredth time, searching for something, anything, that can help.
I can’t rip the sink off the wall and the toilet is all one unit too, so that’s useless as a weapon.
All I can do with the sheets is throw them at her or strangle her with them, but I’m not sure that’s the best thing to do.
Plus, I have a belly to think about, and I can’t use my body for leverage if I do strangle her.
And I can’t believe this is where my thoughts are.
“Bellamy, a year ago at this time, you were a single lady, teaching English, broke as a joke, but at least you weren’t trapped in a goddamn fortress.”
I think the time alone along with the overproduction of adrenaline is getting to me.
“Come on!” I shout, needing to fill the silence. “There has to be something here I can use.”
I sit on the bed, the slats creaking under my weight, and immediately I shoot back off and stare down at it.
It’s made of wood. There are only two feet since the other side is built into the stone, but the feet are wood as are the slats.
I rip the flimsy mattress off and stare at the slats.
They’re thin and look like they’re easy to snap. Not substantial enough for my needs.
I move the mattress around on the floor and sit down on it, staring at the thick foot before me.
Then I kick it. Hard. As hard as I can, but it doesn’t do much other than moan.
A thought hits me, and I stare up at the ceiling, scanning the stone, but given the lighting and electrical setup of this place, I doubt there are cameras.
So I kick again. And again. And again and again and again.
I keep going, alternating legs as one begins to tire and hurt.
I’m covered in sweat, my body aches, tears pour from my eyes, but I don’t stop.
I make myself continue to hit this fucking piece of wood with everything I’ve got because it might just be my only chance at making it out of here alive.
And finally, after the millionth strike, I hear a crack in the thick base.
My eyes spring to life and I’m struck with newfound vigor and enthusiasm for my task.
I kick the shit out of that post, singing God only knows what at the top of my lungs to distract myself from the pain in my body.
With one last hard kick, the post breaks away, the bed collapses and tilts awkwardly, but I’m smiling like a villain.
Sweat trickles down my back as I step away, my breathing ragged but determined. I take a moment to admire the wood that’s thick and heavy. A glimmer of pride flickers within me, and I promise myself that I will face whatever comes with unwavering strength.
I put my weapon by the door and have some of the water and food, which is little more than protein bars and some crackers. There’s enough for maybe a week if I’m careful, and I have no idea if the water from the tap is drinkable or not, but I’m hoping I won’t be forced to find out.
But now I have nothing left to do but be stuck with my thoughts.
Toxic, ugly thoughts at that. I replay the last several months of my life.
Everything from when I first met Sebastian to the encounter with Samil.
Has Sebastian been right all this time and have I been…
I don’t know, too oblivious to see it? I don’t want to believe in a curse.
I don’t want to believe there is a mystical power out to get me. It’s just not how my brain works.
Americans don’t think like that. We were raised on making our own luck and paving our own path, but Sebastian is a Messalinian. They don’t think the way I do. They’re based in tradition stemming back to Roman times. A curse feels fantastical, not something to be based in reality.
But…am I stuck here?
And what happens if Charlotte doesn’t return?
The cold, unyielding stone walls of the prison cell close in around me, and I can’t help but shiver.
Persistent fear clings to my skin, and a knot of dread tightens in my gut.
The dank air fills my lungs as I lean against the rough wall, trying to comprehend how I ended up here.
My heart races, beating like a trapped bird against my chest. I know that without food and water, I won’t last long.
But what terrifies me even more is the thought that Sebastian might not come looking for me. I swallow hard, pushing back the tears that threaten to spill over. “This is what hours in solitude get you.”
But it’s true. The brain is an unforgiving organ. Unlike the heart, she is slow to forgive or forget. And here I find myself locked in a cell. Unsure if I’ll ever see that door open again. And what of my babies? What of them?
“Focus,” I whisper to myself, drawing strength from deep within. “You will not let this break you.”
I start singing some random songs, but that’s simply female empowerment. I take solace in the fact that I am still alive, and as long as I live, there is hope. Determination pulses through my veins, and I refuse to go down without a fight.
“Come on, Charlotte,” I mutter, my voice tinged with defiance. “I’m ready for you.”
The silence in the room is suffocating as I pace back and forth, my bare feet padding softly on the cold stone floor. My heart feels heavy with uncertainty, and I can’t shake the nagging doubt that gnaws at me like a relentless beast.
Will Sebastian come for me?
Will he even be able to find me here, trapped in this prison?
“God, please let him find me,” I whisper into the emptiness, my voice trembling with fear and desperation.
The memories of our last fight flood my mind, and I wince at how harshly we had spoken to each other.
Our words were like poison-filled arrows, each one fired with deadly precision, aimed to wound the other.
I remember the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of our shared pain.
I clench my fists, feeling the sting of regret deep within my chest.
Regardless, it’s not how I want things to end for me. No anger. No venom.
“Sebastian…” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
My thoughts spiral. I wonder if our marriage is salvageable after everything that has happened between us. But as I stand in my makeshift prison, I decide that if I ever get out of here, no matter the mistakes we’ve made, the love we share is worth fighting for.
“Come on, Bellamy,” I tell myself, steeling my resolve.
“You’ve survived worse than this. You can get through it.
” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the stale air of the cell, and I let it out slowly, visualizing the strength overcoming despair inside my heart.
Manifesting shit because that feels like the only thing to do.
As the hours pass, I continue to imagine scenarios where Sebastian finds me, sweeps me into his arms, and we start rebuilding our lives together. I cling to these fantasies like a lifeline, willing them to become reality.