Chapter 15
I’m not sure what’s worse, staring at a blank canvas uninspired or being alone with nothing to do while Zane’s at work. My boredom has become so bad I’ve actually considered exercising with my new collared freedom.
“Maybe I can convince Zane to go to my house to get my art supplies for me. Do you think he’ll do that?
” I say to Piet. “If he’s going to keep me trapped here forever, the least he could do is let me work.
I do still have bills to pay. Everything is set up for autopay, but he doesn’t know that, and the funds will run out eventually.
I don’t think he’ll want to take those on in addition to his mortgage, but who knows, he could surprise me. ”
Piet doesn’t acknowledge me, as usual when I have one-sided conversations with him-slash-myself.
“Hey, maybe you could ask him? He seems to do whatever you want, doesn’t he?
While you’re at it, maybe you could put in a good word for me to get him to allow me to sleep in his bed? I could be a good little puppy, too.”
I wish I could blame the whole “talking to myself” thing on this kidnapping situation, but that’d be a lie.
I’ve done it my entire life. Growing up, I didn’t have any siblings, and my parents tried to keep me entertained, but they were really focused on their careers.
They haven’t explicitly said, but I think I was an “oopsie” baby.
I mean, my mom was already forty, and they’ve never talked about wanting children or trying for me.
I didn’t exactly fit in with the other kids in my small, blue-collar town.
I’ve never been great at blending in. Even before I realized I was attracted to the other boys, I think other people assumed I was gay.
Talking to myself became a way to make the world less lonely, and apparently my childhood was actually great practice for me to prepare for the solitude of being stuck in Zane’s basement indefinitely.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s listening to one of the audiobooks I suggested.
He tries to act uninterested, but I can see right through him.
It’s clear he likes the books we’ve listened to so far.
He’s an awful liar. Which is why I’m so confident he won’t kill me.
There’s no way he’d ever actually be able to get away with murder.
It’s almost cute he thinks he could, though.
The telltale squeak of the door opening steals my attention. Finally! “Murder Daddy!” I call out to him, desperate to see him and break up the monotony of my time alone here. I can’t imagine what I’d do without Piet to keep me company.
Zane’s footsteps get louder as he gets closer to the door, and the old floorboards creak under his feet. As soon as he’s in my line of view, I notice he’s soaked.
“Daddy, why are you all wet?”
“I decided to hose myself off before coming in the house,” he deadpans. “Obviously, it’s raining out. And I’m not your fucking Daddy.”
“It’s not obvious to me. I’m trapped in your basement with no window, remember?” I nod toward the plywood that’s hidden the only natural light from me. I also sigh at the Daddy dismissal once again. Clearly, I need to find a title he likes more…
“Yeah, yeah. Do you actually need something, or did you just call me down here for fun?”
“Okay, rude. Why are you being so grumpy?”
“I’m not,” he dismisses quickly, looking away, but once again, I know he’s lying.
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk to you anyway.” Now I’m a liar. But I was excited to see him, damn it, and his dismissive behavior hurts my feelings even if it probably shouldn’t.
“Sure you don’t.” Zane turns to retreat back up the stairs, the heavy thuds of his feet reminding me of his total freedom and annoying me even more.
Two can play at this game, though. If he wants to be grumpy when I’ve been the perfect kidnappee, I’ll give him a reason to be.
I can’t keep sitting down here alone doing nothing all day and night, or I’ll actually go crazy.
He might have told me I was psycho before, but he hasn’t seen anything yet.
I need to get him to admit he isn’t going to kill me so we can figure out what our next steps are. And to get him to do that, maybe I need to push him a little more.
Or maybe he will panic and kill me, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
I pout because there isn’t much I can do in my position, unfortunately.
But I can definitely ignore him, and I can demand my art supplies until he gets them for me.
Maybe I should see how long I can scream before he comes back down.
It’s not like I can withhold sex when he pretends he wouldn’t be into it in the first place.
Ugh, but screaming would bother Piet and probably me too, so that doesn’t seem worth it.
It feels like hours pass when the door finally creaks open again, but honestly it could have only been a few minutes. Who knows. Time doesn’t exist down here. Zane descends the stairs, carrying a bowl with what looks like pasta and bread.
“Eat,” he demands gruffly.
I cross my arms and turn away from him.
“Mason, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Don’t start shit.”
“I’m not starting anything,” I snap, turning back to face him.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Look, it’s been a long day. I just… there’s a lot happening right now in my life, and I’m not exactly handling things well.”
I snort. “Join the fucking club. At least you get to leave the basement.” For a moment, I think he might actually apologize or explain, but instead he just sighs and squats down to set the food in front of me. I give him an unamused look. “Seriously? Nothing else you’d like to say?”
“What now, Mason?”
“My art supplies,” I demand, crossing my arms, but he looks puzzled as he stands.
“If I’m going to be your permanent basement decoration, the least you could do is let me paint while I’m alone down here.
” His expression is almost unreadable, but he doesn’t shut down the idea.
I think he’s considering it, so I push. “That is unless you want to pay my bills for me?”
“Fuck!” he shouts. “Why is kidnapping someone so fucking complicated?”
“Need I remind you that you’re the only one making this complicated. You could’ve let me go. You also could’ve pinned me down and fucked my throat, but I officially rescind my offer now that you’re being a grumpy asshole. I don’t like it.”
“You know I can’t let you go.”
“Either you go to my house and get my supplies, or I’m going to make your life hell,” I say, my voice dropping to a serious tone.
“I’ve been an absolute angel so far, but I can show you just how psychotic I can be.
I will sing at the top of my lungs in the middle of the night, bang my chain against the metal beam. I’ll refuse to eat, I’ll—”
“Fine!” he explodes. “I’ll get your damn art stuff.”
A triumphant smirk spreads across my face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“Or what?” I challenge. “You’ll chain me up tighter?” His eyes darken for a moment, and I push harder.
“Oh, what, now you like the idea? Are you imagining all the things you could have been doing to me? You suddenly want to fuck my face? Put your straight dick right down my throat? Too bad. My offer is off the table.”
He scoffs and shakes his head before disappearing up the stairs, leaving me alone with what feels like a small victory and hopefully the promise of my art supplies.
I settle back against the air mattress with all my pillows and blankets, feeling accomplished as I take bites of the hot food he made for me.
Being a bit pushy might not get me freedom, but it certainly gets me what I want in other ways. And if Zane thinks he can resist my charm forever, he’s got another thing coming.