12. Penelope
Penelope
Hands. Pressure. Touch.
I cried out from the pain, slipping away again just as fast. I kept doing that. It was like I was there one moment and getting bombarded with agony overload the next. Then, I was back in the darkness. Back in moments I didn’t want to remember.
“Father, please! Father—”
The repeating kicks to my side had me gagging. Pain tore into my scalp, and I was jerked up, only for him to hit my face while he let my weight bring me crashing to the ground.
Another kick.
Another threat.
Another degradation.
“You’re worthless! You make me sick. You can’t do anything right!”
Kick!
Whack!
Shaking.
Screaming
“Embarrassment!”
I gasped. My lids tried opening, but pressure registered. All I could see was darkness.
Had my father blinded me from the hits? Had he gone too far this time?
Panic reared and a light throb had me wanting to hold to my stomach. My hands tried to come down, only to stop after an inch. I was so heavy, but I was trapped.
My head jerked back and forth, and again, pressure along my face made itself known. Memories came barreling through so quickly, I could barely process them. A hand settled on my shoulder, gripping gently.
“Calm. You’re okay.”
“W-What is this? Why can’t I see?” I thrashed, feeling my legs get trapped as well.
“You’re hurt and you need to heal. I can’t have you running for the stairs or hiding from me. I’ll set you free when you’re better.”
“Free?”
“From the restraints. Not from me or this place. You live here now, Penelope. With me.”
My mouth opened to speak, but nothing came. The shock was too much, even if something… clicked. It was right there. So… obvious. And yet it eluded me.
“How’s the pain?”
I tuned into my body.
“Better. Manageable. What did you do?”
“You’re hooked up to an IV. It’s feeding you pain medication. Are you hungry?”
I ignored his question. I had too many of my own.
“You said I live here now?” My voice cracked at the end. Again, I pulled against the restraints. No matter how much I tried to keep out the fear, I couldn’t.
“Yes.”
“Until when?”
A long pause.
“Until I decide.”
“Decide what? That I’m good for nothing? That I’m clumsy or an embarrassment? I’ll save you the trouble, I am.”
Pressure gripped hard, holding to my face at my chin. I jumped at the contact and cried out as pain flared to life from my injuries.
“Never say that again. You are not good for nothing. You are not clumsy nor an embarrassment. Do you understand?”
Wetness soaked into the material covering my eyes. Fear that I’d be punished had me quickly nodding my head in fear.
“Yes.”
The grip eased, and a soft caress traveled over my throbbing skin. The man didn’t speak. He seemed content just to touch me.
“Can you take off the mask? … I don’t like the dark.”
A pause.
“Why? Are you afraid of it?”
“No. I am afraid of not knowing what’s around me. I want to see. To… be ready.”
“Ah.”
That’s all he said as a light brush traced the length of my finger. I jerked, crying out from the pain that rushed back.
“Listen.” I stopped, swallowing hard. I braved on, even though my mind begged that I be compliant.
“I’d like to leave. I know—” Again, I stopped.
“I won’t tell anyone what happened. Keep the blindfold on.
Tie me up and dump me on the side of the street.
Place me in a field. I don’t care, truly.
Just, please… you have to let me go. I-I.
” More wetness soaked into the material over my eyes.
“Thank you for… helping me. I know you see it that way. I just—I just want to leave.”
The touch returned to my finger causing me to jump all over again.
“Please.” I sniffled. “I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. If I’m lying, you can come back and take me again. You can kill me,” I forced out. “I don’t lie. I just want to leave.”
Time.
More.
The touch returned, trailing my finger. He even hooked his around mine for the briefest moment.
My brow crinkled and warmth flooded my chest. Time seemed to stall at the odd sensations.
I kept quiet, tuning into the touch that didn’t seem to want to leave me.
Pressure squeezed the tip between two of his fingers, and I let my mind finally slow and study everything about what I knew of this man.
There was something. Something I couldn’t shake.
Even if I couldn’t understand it, it was as though some distant part of me could.
Think.
My mind was still so anxious.
My body was in a constant need to flee.
I slowed my breathing, trying to relax as I replayed the moment I woke up in this room.
“Are you falling back asleep, Penelope?”
His hand engulfed mine, and I sucked in air as teeth grazed my fingertip. Heat exploded over my body as my heart hammered in my chest. That odd sensation came back. It blanketed me. Engulfed me. Fed… something.
“No.”
Rough stubble prickled my fingers as his face rubbed against my hand.
Although I should have been terrified like I had been with John, something was different about this man.
He’d killed the men who had assaulted me.
At any point, this captor could have hurt me, but he hadn’t.
I was restrained because he didn’t want me to hurt myself.
I licked my lips, trying to decipher the conflicting emotions of what was right and what was wrong.
This man killed my parents. He killed John.
Killing was bad. But he’d done it. Because of me.
For… me. And the touching. The cryptic claiming.
This couldn’t be real. It didn’t seem real. There’d only been one person—
I stiffened, feeling my chest rise and fall faster. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“I think I might be getting hungry after all.”
The man stopped from snuggling against my hand, and I could feel him lift.
“Is the pain coming back?”
That voice. That smooth, deep tone was so familiar. The slight accent mixing with his British one. A small cry left me.
More tears. More wetness. I wasn’t sure what to think.
Blame was drowning me, and yet, something else was trying to push to the front.
Some sick adoration that I couldn’t understand.
Was I so messed up? So desperate and broken that I’d feel attraction or even admiration for what this murderer had done?
“No. I mean, a little. I’ll be fine.”
A sob. I couldn’t keep it in. There was something truly wrong with me.
…I like you… Maybe… we can meet?
Had I said that? Asked it? Had I truly exposed how much I loved talking to him? Even oddly fantasized about him? I waited on his calls. Depended on them. He was a stranger. Yes, we’d talked off and on for weeks, but I still didn’t know this man.
Fabric rustled and footsteps got further away.
What was I going to do? I clearly had to escape but how? Where would I go? Surely, the police had already discovered my parents. Rose would have found them. And me… gone. Would they think I killed them? My father abused me. Everyone knew it. Maybe they thought I snapped.
Another sob came, even if I tried to stay as quiet as I could.
They’d suspect me. I would if the circumstances were different. But… him. Could it really be who I thought it was? Or did I secretly wish it was so I could find some sort of comfort within this nightmare? How sick was that?
“They deserved it.”
The voice was further away, but still in the room.
“You don’t see it now, Penelope, but this isn’t your fault. Do you remember me talking about the design?”
“Yes.”
“This is part of it. At some point, life would have brought us all together. Everyone I’ve killed would have died eventually. It was in the core of who they were.”
“…I don’t understand.”
“I know. Someday you will.”
Clinking sounded. After a few moments, the footsteps came closer.
I kept my head down, listening, tracking his movements with my senses.
“I’m going to adjust these cuffs so that I can prop you up. If you fight—”
“I won’t. I promise.”
There was a hesitation as a small bang sounded.
Clothes and steps were registering next to me, and I kept still as the mattress shifted from him leaning against it.
Tugs left my arms loosening, but an exotic spicy scent had me moving in closer.
It was mouthwatering. Alluring, almost hypnotic.
It was like cologne or some sort of manly body wash, and I wanted to take it deeper into my lungs.
What felt like sandpaper ground into my cheek.
I froze, jumping at the hand that wrapped around the back of my head.
It held me in place, and I quickly realized he and I were cheek to cheek.
He turned in, breathing deeply as his lips parted and he breathed out, sending warm breath against my ear.
“That should do.”
He kept me close as he slid his other arm behind my lower back, lifting the top half of my body. A mound of pillows was placed behind me, and only then did he let go and ease back.
Words. Rationality. Sense. They all left me as I stared into the darkness of my mind. I could feel myself falling. Falling down some dark abyss full of these affections.
“Can you take the mask off now so I can eat? Please.”
“I will feed you.”
There was a finality in his tone, but he didn’t sound mad. His mind was made up. He wanted to do this, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“How long?”
Clinking sounded, but I could sense a pause in what he was doing.
“How long for what?”
“How long have you known me? Or about me?” I turned my face in his direction, even though I couldn’t see him. “You do know me?”
“Months.”
Nodding, I bit my bottom lip.
“I see. Do I know you?”
“No.”
“Have we met?”
Nothing.
“V, why did you do it?” Silence. “It is you. I recognize your voice.”
More time. Fear flared, and that scared girl who lived inside me was cursing my mistake. Should I have not told him I knew? From what I could tell, escaping was impossible. The only chance I had was somehow winning this guy over and convincing him to let me go. Which… also seemed impossible.
Lips pressed into mine—soft yet demanding. When they pulled back, I could still feel V’s breath against my skin. I could smell coffee and that spicy scent. It had me leaning in the smallest amount to breathe more of him in before I could get control of myself.
V cleared his throat, and I could hear him move back.
“You’re smart. You’re observant. I almost answered you. You almost had me.”
“Why did you kill them?”
A good minute passed.
“The design, Penelope. Your parents, John… aside from them deserving death for hurting you, they were collateral. Be content with that. For now, it’s the best answer you’re going to get.”