5. Sara
Sara
I awake to a pounding head, fuzzy memories, and a heavy manacle clamped around my neck.
The chain is bolted to the wall at a sadistic height.
Just tall enough to stop me from lying down yet too low for me to stand.
Apparently, I spent the night trapped on my knees, and I have the aching bones to prove it.
With no window in my cell, I have no sense of whether it’s day or night or how much time has passed.
The part that haunts me the most is that I don’t understand how or why we got here.
I fell in love with a man who saved me from some assholes hassling me on my way home one night, back when I worked as a receptionist at the teaching hospital on Staten Island.
Seven months after we started seeing each other, I arrived at the apartment where Dante and I always met only for him to no-show.
I waited inside for hours. Days, actually, all the while racked with guilt over leaving Jeremy alone.
Sent text after text with no reply. The more time that passed without a response, the more my anxiety spiraled.
Because I knew Dante, and he would never ghost me. He loved me. We were planning a future together.
Funny how I never realized just how little I knew about his life until he disappeared.
Floating in the dreamy haze of true love, the fact that Dante never introduced me to his friends or family failed to register.
When he vanished, that reality was driven home, because I had no one to contact to check on him.
Even though I was aware that the apartment served as a convenient meeting spot for us rather than his actual home, he never mentioned another address.
I mean, had I been thinking clearly, that alone should have been a big red flag. But I fell completely under his spell and trusted him implicitly.
The truth of his deception began to dawn on me when I called the company he claimed to work for. They had no record of an employee named Dante Arlington, and Google provided no hits for a man matching his name and appearance. My growing doubts multiplied when my messages to him bounced.
Recipient not found.
The second-to-last blow came from the print-out of a celebrity gossip site that someone left for me inside the apartment. The article featured a photo of Dante in a tux from some charity event, dancing with his arms wrapped tightly around a beautiful raven-haired woman in a red dress.
The headline screamed, “Elusive multi-millionaire Dante Argento attends yet another gala with the ravishing Lorenzo heiress on his arm. Are wedding bells in their future?”
The date of the gala? The eve of Dante’s disappearance.
Still, I clung to my disbelief as I searched Google. The pain that tore through my chest once I ascertained the article’s authenticity and credibility felt like it would split me in two.
Even his last name was a lie.
After that, I was like the walking dead. Especially after I returned to the apartment for one last visit and found the locks changed.
The message couldn’t be clearer. Dante was done with us, and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me.
And as if all that wasn’t terrible enough, two men with guns threatened Jeremy in our apartment a day later. They insisted that “my friend” was over me, and I needed to take my brother, leave town, and stay away from Dante.
When a recruiter called with a fantastic job offer from Toledo the following morning, I jumped at the chance. The hospital would cover all my relocation expenses and even hire a moving company. They also offered a significant bonus and pay raise.
As much as I hated allowing thugs with small dick energy to scare us into fleeing, staying in New York carried the possibility of running into Dante. Or my willpower to stay off Google failing me just in time for his engagement announcement.
In Ohio, the distance and new surroundings would help me forget about him. Once and for all.
Forgetting him didn’t quite pan out the way I’d hoped, but I was at least able to keep his name out of my search bar.
Jeremy was never a fan of the move, so when he was offered his dream job here in New York, how could I say no? I figured enough time had passed for the scary men to have forgotten about us, and for us to have a chance at a fresh start. A chance to rewrite the joy this city stole from me.
Instead, my optimism only earned me an involuntary stay in a dungeon with an evil prince. Jeremy and I never should have returned to the city.
I am so incredibly screwed. The real kicker is, I don’t even know why.
My stomach heaves with pain so intense that I can barely breathe. In those articles I did read before I fled to Ohio, I came across several vague mentions of Dante’s involvement in something dangerous. I never once suspected he was the threat.
As I scan my cramped cell, nausea rises in my throat.
The sooner I accept that the Dante from my memories was a fictional persona, the less what he does to me now will hurt.
A mechanical click precedes the lights flickering on.
I jerk upright, tensing as I wait for Dante to enter my cell. Only, he’s not the one who strides inside with a tray of waffles, a cup of orange juice, and a pitcher of water.
“Good morning, beautiful.” Angela sets the plate and cup on the concrete floor next to my cot. “I hope you managed to get at least a little sleep.” Her mouth tightens as she inspects my collared neck. “That asshole.”
I’m still gaping when she unlocks the manacle. The metal releases and clangs against the wall.
“Better?” She asks the question hesitantly, and I shove her aside, scrambling for the metal toilet. A few steps away from my goal, I heave the contents of my stomach onto the floor.
My breathing saws in and out, the air stabbing my lungs. I retch again, the drugs and liquor expelling themselves from my system in the most violent way possible.
The urge to scream nearly overwhelms me. So much so that I fear my heart might burst from the mounting pressure.
What’s happening? Why is Angela here? Did she abuse my trust too? Did the two of them plan this together? The only reason I showed up at that club in the first place was because Angela all but twisted my arm.
“You’re one hell of a performer, aren’t you?
” I press the back of my hand against my mouth, fighting off the sickening sense of betrayal that threatens to consume me.
“‘Look, some guy is staring at you. Isn’t he hot?’” I mock.
Then I recall my wooziness and inability to think straight…
which started before Dante ever handed me that glass of wine. “Holy hell…did you drug me too?”
Angela reels back at my uncharacteristic outburst, her eyes growing wide as if I were the one who’d hurt her instead of the other way around. Guilt raises its head before I remember she’s a liar.
That’s when the realization hits me like a wrecking ball. I don’t have anyone. I can’t trust a single person in this world except for Jeremy, and at this rate, I might never see him again.
Curling into myself, I rest my forehead against the floor, my neck still stiff from the uncomfortable night. What else does Dante have in store for me? If I punched Angela in her lying mouth and rushed out the door, what would he do to Jeremy?
Dante’s clearly been planning this for a while, so escaping won’t be that simple. I need to gather as much information about my situation as possible before I try to flee. Which may prove to be a bitch because I have no idea where the hell I am.
Angela’s cool fingers on the back of my neck startle me. I whip around, slapping away her touch. I want to shout, to cry, to throw up some more, but I’m empty inside, my mind struggling to catch-up to all the blows.
“Breathe, Sara.” She holds up both palms in surrender, and for the first time since she walked in, her smile drops. “Breathe.”
Her eyes dart toward the ceiling, and I track the motion without turning my head. A camera points directly at me, the red light blinking like a devil’s eye. How did I miss that before?
Angela grasps my hand, and I let her because I don’t know what else to do.
“How long?” I brace myself for the answer. “How long have you and Dante…”
She scoffs. “Don’t word it like that. You make me sound like a home-wrecker.”
At my glare, Angela licks her bottom lip, flushing with shame.
“Almost a year.”
“Get out.”
“Sara, just listen to me—”
“Why?” I battle to draw air through my tight throat, refusing to let myself cry again. Not in front of her. “So you can feed me more lies? Pass. I’d rather choke down a necrotic appendix.”
Angela’s hand curls around mine, and she lowers her voice even more. “I swear it’s not what you think.”
Unconsciously, I lean in. “Then what the hell is it, Angela?”
She closes her eyes. When she speaks again, she does so in a hurry.
“I’m not sure how he found me, but less than a year ago, Dante came into the hospital and asked if I knew you.
I told him that we went to school together.
I didn’t think it was a big deal, but a few days later, he was waiting for me outside work.
He told me that you’d be moving back for a job in the ER and that when you did, I needed to rekindle our friendship again or else…
and then, once I did, I’d need to cut back my hospital hours and work here… ” She trails off in misery.
My expression softens. “He threatened you too.”
Angela nods while sucking down a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t have a choice. He didn’t give me a choice.”
I don’t ask what Dante held over her head because I’m too overwhelmed. First Jeremy, and now Angela? While her betrayal is a slap to the face, the guilt stings even worse. This, too, is my fault. She’s another person caught up in the cross fire.
I’m stunned by just how thoroughly Dante has violated every aspect of my life.
He lured us back to this city with a job for me. A job for Jeremy at the company he owned. He tracked down Angela, an innocent woman, and intimidated her into spying on me.
The level of cold calculation that went into this, all just for a chance to trap me here, is chilling, and I realize with a start that this goes far beyond hate. Why, though? And why have his men scare me off only to lure me back five years later?
I study my cell, my mind racing. The effects of whatever they dosed me with are wearing off.
Great in theory, but I’m also pretty sure it’s one of the reasons why I’m feeling worse as time goes on instead of better.
Without drugs in my system, there’s nothing left to pad the residual pain inflicted by the collar and chain.
Or dampen the psychological horror of my situation.
At least seeing Angela confirms my suspicions that we’re still in New York. Maybe not even that far from the club.
The lack of windows in my cell and the artificial light beyond the door suggest we’re in a basement.
“Angela. Do you know where we are?”
She shakes her head. “No. Not really. Whenever he needs me, one of his goons shows up out of nowhere and blindfolds me.”
Sighing, I brace myself against the wall as I climb to my feet.
As much as I would love to succumb to my emotions, that comes with a price tag I can ill afford.
If I hope to escape this place, I need to compartmentalize by separating myself from the terrible things happening, the same way I do at work.
Analyze the situation, gather information, and do whatever the scenario requires.
If I play my cards right, I can save Jeremy from Dante. Angela too.
Stretching, I grit my teeth against the pain until the agony dulls to a manageable level.
Angela joins me, supporting my elbow when my legs wobble again. “Your blood sugar is probably low. You need to eat.”
She leads me over to the cot, but I can’t bring myself to sit down just yet. Instead, I clutch the plate against my abdomen and scarf down the waffles one by one. No fork, for obvious reasons, so my hands will have to do.
I reach for the glass with syrupy-sticky fingers and down the juice in just a few gulps. When I’m finished, I wipe my hands off with a wet napkin and allow my head to fall back. Despair threatens to pull me under. I try my best not to drown, but every breath feels like an uphill climb.
“I can’t let him chain me up again tonight.” I need to be ready at a moment’s notice and strong enough to fight back. Kneeling all night takes too much of a toll.
“We need to convince him to keep the manacle off. If I can—” I cut myself off, hesitating.
How can I trust Angela after the way she lied to me?
I’m questioning so much about our friendship now, but my options are limited.
“Will you help me? Please, Angela. I have to get home to Jeremy. He needs me.”
Angela purses her lips and averts her eyes. “I don’t know, Sara. Dante, he’s…god…if you only knew what he was capable of…”
She trails off, and for the first time in all the years I’ve known her, her shine dims. The hopelessness radiating from her sinks my stomach.
“Just what, exactly, am I capable of?”
A startled Angela jumps and whips around. At the sight of Dante leaning in the doorway, my body goes cold.
How long was he lingering there? How much did he hear? More than enough, going by the dark displeasure on his face.
“Dante, I can explain.” He doesn’t permit Angela to finish. Instead, he grabs her by the upper arm and wrenches her out of the cell. I chase after them, but my weakened legs collapse just as the door slams in my face and the locks engage.
I hear her yelp behind the steel, and I raise my voice. “Don’t hurt her!”
I punch at the door, bruising my knuckles, before my strength gives out. Every joint in my body burns, and my muscles wobble as if they’ve already atrophied.
Pressing my forehead against the steel, I try to remember how to breathe.
He’ll go easy on her. He has to.
No matter how much he might hate me, Dante can’t afford to have two nurses from the same hospital go missing within a few hours of one another.
Not when people may have spotted the two of us together last night at the club.
It’ll attract too much attention. Unless he has men on the inside at the hospital who can create a good cover story.
So far, his hostility is strategic. I’m his target, not Angela, and any man calculating and patient enough to plot out a kidnapping years in advance won’t jeopardize things by lashing out over a few whispered words.
On the other hand, maybe I’m totally wrong and he’s about to strangle her.