EMBER
CHAPTER TWENTY
As I start regaining consciousness, I realize that I am sitting in a chair. My arms ache.
When I try to move them, I realize that they’ve been tied behind my back.
Each of my legs is tied to a leg of the chair.
I let out a whimper involuntarily and quickly try to shut my mouth.
I feel a fabric knot lodged there, preventing me from fully closing my mouth.
The feeling of being stuck is overwhelming, and I try as hard as I can to calm myself.
I am so fucked.
Surveying my surroundings, I see that there is only one window in the room I’m in, and only a sliver of light peeks from the sides of the curtain. It’s not pitch black, but it’s dark enough for me to be uncomfortable. I’m in the monster's lair. The monster enters the room at that moment.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Dean says, coming close and stroking his hand over my head.
He runs my hair through his hands and I shiver, feeling my eyes begin to water.
I don’t want to show him the fear that is settling deep in my stomach.
My mouth, still occupied with the gag, is unable to say anything.
I can only listen, and pray to the goddesses that someone has noticed I’m gone.
I have no idea what time it is, so I have no idea if Harley has stopped by the shop yet.
“You know, I tried to bring your little friend, too,” Dean says, sitting on the bed behind me. “But he took off before I could make it happen.”
My head snaps back as Dean yanks my hair, pulling my gaze up to the ceiling. Dean’s face fills my vision as he hovers above me. I try to talk around the gag; I need to know who he tried to take. My heart is thumping so loud I can hear it in my ears.
“I bet you’re asking yourself who I tried to take?” he says before coming around in front of me, squatting between my legs. He runs his hand up my thigh, and my body goes completely still. I can’t do this. I can’t let him take from me again.
“Rawley,” he says as he grabs my face. “He’s ours, isn’t he?”
My body processes faster than my brain, and I immediately throw up. The gag prevents me from spewing it out, so I sit there, choking on my vomit.
“God damn it, Ember,” Dean says as he yanks the gag out of my mouth. The contents of my stomach pour all over him. “Fucking sick.” He wipes the puke off himself and turns to leave.
“Dean…” I say, now that I'm not gagged, and he stops in his tracks.
He whirls around. “Say it again,” he commands without breaking eye contact. His eyes are literally shining.
“Dean,” I say. I don’t know what else to do. My fight or flight is restricted to fight, and my fight seems to be feeding into his delusional desires. Now that I know his true weakness, I know what I have to do to keep myself alive.
I have to want him. Or pretend to.
I see a slight bulge growing in his pants, and it makes me want to throw up again, but I hold back.
“Can you take me to the bathroom?” I ask him, trying to make myself sound calm.
“So I can clean up, please, Dean?” My voice saying his name seems to be his kryptonite.
I need to be aware of my surroundings, and see if I can recognize where he’s got me hidden away.
“Fuck,” he says before walking out of the room.
I drop my head in defeat. I look over at the closet, not recognizing it.
I turn my head as far as it can turn, and catch a picture frame on the wall over the bed.
It’s his mom and him. His mom was absolutely fucking insane.
She made my life hell any chance she could.
She has a long list of legal charges, and an even longer list of unethical instances.
She’s the reason Dean ended up living in the same house as me while I was pregnant.
She’s the reason he spent my entire pregnancy raping me.
I’ll dance on her grave when she goes.
Dean enters the room, filling my personal space before I can process it.
“You’ll go to the bathroom, I’ll put you in the shower, and then you’ll come right back here,” he says, no emotion detected in his tone.
He grabs my face, and I can feel his hot breath on my nose.
“Try anything, and I will make you pay.” I whimper without meaning to.
“I won’t,” I tell him. As long as he doesn’t go too far, I’ll listen to what he says.
Even though I want to be a strong, badass woman, Dean has at least a foot on me, and I know I don't stand a chance if he wants to overpower me.
“But can I ask you some questions?” I ask him.
He looks at me with a twitch in his eye.
“I won't tell you where you are. Not that it matters. Your phone is in the pond,” he says before he gets to work untying me.
I try to think of all the places where there is a pond.
I can only think of one that’s super busy with people, and I highly doubt he would chance that.
So, we must be at his grandparents' abandoned home, I decide.
I remember he took me fishing there once.
We were only ever on the water, so I never saw the inside of the house.
Dean finishes untying my arms and they fall limp to my sides. I bring them into my lap and rub them, trying to ease the pain. He kneels in front of me, untying my legs now.
Once he’s done, I try to stand up, but my legs give out and I collapse back into the chair. Dean rolls his eyes with annoyance as if he’s not the reason I’m weak.
He yanks me up to my feet, and he puts his arm around me.
“Put your arms around my waist,” he says before he starts walking, and I have no choice but to hang onto him.
I can do it myself, I just needed a minute for my legs to wake up after being immobile for goddess knows how long.
Dean has no interest in waiting and begins pulling me forward.
“Will you tell me what time it is?” I ask him. I am trying to take in as much as I can as we walk. Pictures line the walls of the hallway as we make our way to the dark bathroom.
Dean flips on the light, and it illuminates the grungy bathroom. I stay where I am, not wanting to trigger him. He walks over to the shower and turns on the water, sitting on the edge of the tub, his hand under the water.
“If you have a rag, I can just clean up.” I realize what he’d said about getting into the shower, and the thought of being naked makes me feel way too exposed and vulnerable to him. He ignores me. “I only threw up on my shirt,” I tell him, trying again to make him hear me.
“Fine,” he says before turning the water off. “But I'll need to put this in the washer. It fucking stinks.”
I let out the breath I was holding. But before I can finish that thought, Dean rips my shirt over my head and I’m standing there in just my purple bra. Chills run up my back.
“Here,” he says as he rips his own shirt off and puts it over my head.
He’s a solid extra large and I'm a medium at best, so it falls to my knees. “I always wanted to see you in nothing but my t-shirt,” he whispers into my ear before he walks away. His musty Old Spice smell invades my senses, and I hold in the gag I want so desperately to let out. “Don’t fucking move.”
I stay there but turn towards the hallway, trying to see if any of the doors to the other rooms are open.
Unfortunately, none are, but I see the light outside has dimmed significantly.
It’s getting late, and my lessening chances of being found are sending me into a panic.
I don’t know what his plans are for me. Harley would never stop looking.
And Atlas. My fucking heart. Atlas would burn the world down to find me.
My eyes begin to water, but I quickly wipe at them when I hear footsteps coming back towards me.
When I look up, Dean is walking towards me, and on his bare chest, I see my name tattooed across it. I am in absolute disbelief.
Holy shit. He’s actually fucking insane.
My eyes meet his, and a grin spreads across his face. “Do you like it? I got it done about a year ago.”
All I can manage is a small smile and a nod of my head. “What time is it, again?” I ask him since he never answered me earlier. I just want to know how long has passed since I’ve been gone.
“It’s about dinnertime. Are you hungry?” he asks, and even though my stomach is rumbling with hunger, I don’t see myself keeping anything down.
“I’m okay for now,” I tell him. “Can you show me around?” I don’t know that he will, but anything to avoid going back into the bedroom and being tied up again.
Dean looks at me, his eyes searching my face. Almost like he’s trying to see what I’m planning. The sad fact is, I have no plan right now. He holds all of the control here.
“Fine, but if you try anything, I’ll fucking take you and no one will ever know where to find you.” His words hit all the way to my bones, and I nod my head. He wraps an arm around me and pushes me forward.
We come to the end of the hall, and it opens up into a living room.
The furniture is covered with old sheets, and the kitchen light is on, showing all the dust that has settled in this old, forgotten house.
It’s definitely a trailer home. His grandparents were pretty well off, so this doesn’t scream like it would have been theirs.
Fuck, where the hell are we then?
“The big house is closer to the pond. They bought this one for my parents so we didn’t have to invade their space during summer visits,” Dean says as we walk deeper into the house.
Entering the kitchen now, I see that it’s been used more than the rest of the house.
I look over to the dining room and see two laptops sitting open on the table.
I see my house in a little square on the screen.
Another screen shows Harley’s house. Atlas’s house.
And the bookshop. He’s been watching every move I make.
Watching all of the people I love and care about.
“Can I ask what the plan is for me?” I ask boldly as his arm pulls me closer. My stomach clenches.
“Well, you took away my baby,” he says as he walks me over to the table.
He pulls out a chair and pushes me down onto it.
He pulls out the chair next to it, and reaches under mine and drags it closer, so I'm in between his knees. He’s trying so hard to force this intimacy, but all of his actions make me want to scream and throw my fists into his eyes.
“And since he’s not a baby anymore, I want another shot.
” His gaze leaves the screen, and he looks me dead in the eyes.
I can feel my soul leave my body. “I want us to be a family,” he says as he raises his hand and strokes my cheek in an attempt to mimic a loving and healthy partner.
My body, my brain, everything within me is screaming. I can’t do this.
“Dean—I…” I start, and then abruptly stop, because I know this is going to be the snapping point for him.
“I can’t have any more children,” I tell him, rushing the words out.
He looks down and back up, and before I can process what I see in his eyes, he backhands me across the face.
The force sends me back into my chair. I reach up to touch my face where his hand connected, and it's hot to the touch. He’s never physically hurt me before, and my brain and body are so shocked at his actions, I have no time to process what comes next.
“I only wanted to fucking love you. I wanted you to love me back!” Dean screams in my face. Without hesitation, he yanks me up from my chair, hands on each of my arms. His grip is so tight, there is no doubt there will be bruises.
“Why won’t you just fucking love me?” he continues to scream.
He turns me around and shoves me flat against the table, my upper body flush against it, bent over at the waist. My body goes into panic mode, and I start thrashing and kicking, doing absolutely anything to make him stop.
His hand comes up over my mouth, and I bite and spit as much as possible.
I fight like hell until Dean plugs my nose and mouth, his body over the top of mine.
His weight settles onto my back, and the loss of air to my lungs has me weak, but I try to keep fighting.
Much to my dismay, he’s bigger and stronger than me. And he wins.
Right before I lose consciousness, I feel a heavy hand yank my pants down, and air hits my backside.