Chapter 43 Laynie
You have type 1 diabetes kept running through my head. That’s why I had been so thirsty and sick lately. The doctor looking at my scars was humiliating, and I wanted to disappear. Linc was on his phone taking notes anytime someone entered the room and gave us more information. It was honestly adorable. I heard what they were saying, but it was too much information and I was grateful for his presence. He kept my ice water filled and helped me in the bathroom each time I needed to go. I had become more comfortable around him, but when he touched my scars earlier, I recoiled. I had seen them in the mirror and also have seen men’s expressions when they see them. But Linc’s was always different, and he never looked at me with disgust.
“Come, lay with me.” I said.
He got up and curled into the bed next to me, pulling me close to him. I relaxed against him and grabbed onto his muscular arms.
“You smell good,” he whispered.
“Oh, that’s because I used your body wash.”
He laughed and nuzzled into my neck, taking in a large whiff. We both laughed.
The nurse came back in and she wasn’t friendly with either of us, but did her job.
“Sir, sit in the chair, not in her bed,” she said in a clipped tone.
“Why does it matter where I sit?”
“She needs rest and you’re impeding on that.” She took the blood pressure cuff and put it around my arm.
I nudged him to go and not argue with her.
I had my finger poked at least 8 times since we’d been here and I was honestly over it now. My sugar levels had come down a bit but were higher than the doctor liked to see. He wanted to keep me overnight and possibly the next night. I obliged, but not without a complaint.
When the nurse left, another woman entered the room. She wasn’t in scrubs but a business suit with a small pad for notes.
“Hi, Mrs. Morris?”
“Yes…?”
“I’m detective Bates with NYPD special victims unit. I need to ask you a few questions.”
I glanced at Linc, but he nodded his head to tell me it was okay.
She turned to him. “Can you step outside, please?”
Linc didn’t argue and politely excused himself.
Once he was outside the door, she turned back to me. “Mrs. Morris, you understand you’ve been a missing person since 2018?”
“Obviously, but I’m not missing anymore.”
“I can see that. Where have you been?”
“I was in a warehouse.”
“Who’s the man outside?”
“Lincoln. He helped me get out.”
“Is that right?” She eyed me.
“I see it like this. This man has held you captive for the last 5 years and needed to bring you to the hospital since you were sick, so you came up with some elaborate lie to protect him.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Alayna, do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?”
“Yes, I do, and that is not what’s happening here. I want you to leave. I have nothing else to say. Linc!” I called out loudly so he would hear me.
He walked in almost immediately.
“I want her to leave.”
“Get out,” he snarled at her.
“I bet you’d like that, you sick freak. Arrest him,” she ordered to two police officers who entered right after Linc.
“What? Stop!” I tried to climb out of the bed, but the IV lines pulled against me.
They put Linc’s arms behind his back and cuffed him. “Laynie it’s okay. Call J.C. There’s a phone in my bag.”
“Please, please don’t take him,” I begged, but he was gone before I could say another word. I screamed and I think everyone in the hospital heard me.
* * *
The next two days passed, excruciatingly slow. I had no way to call Linc or talk to him. He also hadn’t called me from jail. He left me what I think was a burner phone. I called my mom and told her what had happened. She even attempted to call the police department on his behalf, but they had not booked him yet.
J.C. was on her way to get me, so I packed up my things as they issued the discharge paperwork. I knew they would release Linc within the 72 hours. They had no evidence to hold him, and I wasn’t corroborating the police’s theory. I only needed to get through the next 24 hours and see if J.C. could just take me to his apartment. I would be fine there until he came back.
I looked at my phone to text her I was ready when I heard a familiar sound of boots clacking against the floor. I looked up and saw Don. Why was he here?
“J.C. couldn’t come. I heard you got my son arrested?”
“No, that’s not what happened.”
“Let’s go.”
I reluctantly followed behind him.
In the car, I asked him if he could take me to Linc’s, but he didn’t respond. Thirty minutes later we pulled up to his house and something in me wanted to run. I didn’t want to be here for 1 hour or 24 hours.
I had my bag of items, including needles and insulin. Linc had been the one taking notes and keeping track of the things I needed to do, and now I was having to rack my brain for the information. They told me to follow up within 24 hours with an endocrinologist. Not sure how I could do that now.
I could hear music coming from the house as we walked up the steps. When I entered, I saw three men sitting around the kitchen table playing cards and smoking. One of them I recognized, and I turned around to run, but Don caught me.
“Where are you going?”
“Please let me leave. I don’t need your help. I can find my way back.”
“I think you’ve forgotten who really owns you.” He shoved me forward.
The man who recognized me smiled at me and pulled his dick out of his pants and started rubbing it. I wanted to throw up. How did I end up here?
“Take your clothes off.” Don ordered.
“Please, please don’t do this,” I begged.
He grabbed my cheeks and squeezed hard. “Don’t make me leave more marks on you. And if you say a word to Linc about this, I’ll make sure you end up in a warehouse overseas where no one will find you. If you think I’m lying, I can show you my shipping container full of girls right now.”
I wiped my tears and pulled down Linc’s pajama pants that he let me borrow and took my shirt off.
“Ew, what the fuck happened to her?” one man said, staring at my scars.
“Fuck you,” I said.
That got me a slap from Don and I cowered down, anticipating another blow, but it didn’t come.
Don made me fuck each man at that table while he watched. It took forever, and I felt exhausted afterward. I wanted to die.
My needles and insulin had fallen to the floor earlier, and I attempted to collect them all back in my bag before departing to the room.
I pushed my feelings aside for now and showered and scrubbed my body. I couldn’t sleep so I just sat in the bed trying to call Linc’s phone every 30 minutes, but it kept going to voicemail.
Movement outside the window caught my attention. Approaching the window, I pushed the sheer curtains back. I could see the street from here and noticed no locks were on the windows. I could easily slide the window open and push the screen out. What was stopping me? The gripping fear was holding my hands behind me. My fear was like wearing cuffs behind my back. Would he be able to find me before Linc got out? I doubted it. I could probably make it to Linc’s and see if the doorman would let me up to the penthouse. It was a stretch, but it was better than sitting in this rotting house.
I gathered the wrinkled brown bag that held my insulin and syringes and shoved it into my jacket pocket. The window was cold to the touch, and I tried to slide it open slowly. My head kept jerking back to the bedroom door, expecting Don to catch me. The window opened like butter and I had no choice but to push out the screen. I hiked one leg over the side of the window and a few people laughed as they walked by. They probably thought I was a teen sneaking out of her parents’ house. With my brown bag secured to me, I jumped down on the ground. I looked back up at the window and saw the wind pushing the curtains closed. I ran.
The metro was only a few blocks up on the same street and I had no idea which train to get on, but I noticed earlier that Linc’s credit card was tucked behind my phone case. He thought of everything. I popped the phone case off and slid the card out. Even if I got lost, being lost on the train would keep me safer than being lost on the street, so I wasn’t stressing as I plopped down on one of the empty orange seats. I pulled my hoodie over my head, trying to make myself invisible. I hadn’t checked my sugar levels since leaving the hospital, so I was sure they were on the rise.
I wanted to fall asleep on the train, but I knew that was a bad idea, so I flicked through Linc’s phone, trying to occupy my mind. I wanted to text Charlie but didn’t know her number off the top of my head. She was still in Spain, and I didn’t have the energy to tell her about everything that was going on anyway. The train dropped me at the station. I figured was closest to Linc’s and since it was 4 AM few trains were running.
I walked about 2 miles until I finally navigated to the front of his building. The relief flooded through me as I thought about curling up in Linc’s bed. I pulled the enormous doors open and entered the lobby. The man behind the desk immediately stood, and I realized I didn’t recognize him.
“Hey, I’m a guest of Lincoln Hayes. He told me you would let me up to his penthouse,” I lied.
He eyed me with suspicion and clicked a few things on his computer and dialed Linc’s number; I assumed. Of course, he would not answer. Fuck.
“No answer. I can’t let you up.” He looked sympathetic, but I wasn’t one to beg.
I pulled myself together. “Can I sit here for a few minutes?” I directed my vision to the cream couch across from his desk.
He looked around, scanning the empty lobby, and I could see he was anxious. He combed his blonde hair back with his fingers. “I’m really not supposed to do this, but I’ll give you 5 minutes.”
I looked down at the phone and saw it was at 2%. Even if he had a charger, 5 minutes would get me nothing. I texted Linc what was going on so he’d have a clue when he got released.
Hey, I left Don’s. I couldn’t stay there anymore. Came to penthouse but they won’t let me up. Phone is at 2%. Will try to come back in the morning and see if you’re here. I’m okay.
I added the last part because I knew he was going to worry when he saw this and also probably rip the head off of this security guy.
I sat down on the couch and stuffed the phone in my pocket. I took out my discharge paperwork and read over the instructions again. If I had eaten a certain amount of carbs, I needed to calculate this amount of insulin. They gave me my insulin dosages based on my weight already. I took my glucometer out of the bag and pricked my finger. I felt the security guy watching me out of the corner of his eye.
My glucose was 320, and I hadn’t even eaten since I left the hospital. I gave myself the dose I calculated from the sheet. I used my thigh to inject the insulin. When I finished, I leaned back in the chair and took a shaky breath.
“Ma’am, you have to leave now,” he said from behind me.
“Right, yeah, sorry.” I gathered up my belongings and pushed open the huge double glass doors.
The chill in the air slammed into my cheeks as I entered back on the sidewalk. I checked the time on the phone, now at 1%. 5:20 AM. It was pointless to get a hotel this early, so I needed to find somewhere warm to hide and wait. Since tomorrow was Monday, I knew Linc could probably see the judge and get released, or rather if they were holding him for questioning, they couldn’t do so for more than a certain number of hours. At least that’s what Law and Order told me.
I walked 6 blocks to a coffee shop. It had a cute, red little door with cursive script above it. The smell was a welcoming blend of coffee bean and vanilla. I joined the line and ordered a cappuccino and took a seat near the window on a little velvet green chair that looked like it came from the 70s.
The coffee was elegant and warm. They made a design that looked like a little heart with the cream. I would have taken a picture in different circumstances.