Chapter Sixteen
Scarlett
The first thing I remember is the faint smell of roses.
I try not to panic though breathing through my mask is hard.
My eyes feel raw and heavy. I am in a car cramped up with my bound legs tucked under me and my wrists handcuffed.
My head rolls and bounces with the uneven road.
We cannot still be in the city because the car is driving at a fairly fast pace.
With my mouth gagged, I struggle to breathe.
My whole body is numb and frozen in panic.
There is no way out of the car or out of my restraints.
I try to keep my wits about me and breathe as best as I can but my heart feels like it is going to explode.
I miss my baby. Where is Mia? Does Beckett know that I was taken?
I must have been given some kind of drug because I feel heavy and hazy.
I also have the urge to throw up. My injuries don't hurt as much anymore as long as I am careful with them.
Rolling around in the back of a car, banging and jostling, my ribs and broken leg throb.
My head also aches with worry, stress, and sadness.
Disoriented, I try to see through the mask on my face but no light is filtering in.
The only thing in front of me is pitch blackness.
After a while, the car finally comes to a stop which makes my heart leap in my chest. I hear the faint sound of footsteps outside the car and then a clicking noise that confirms I am in the trunk.
“Come on out, princess,” a modulated voice says.
I understand I have been kidnapped. Likely it is someone Beckett is acquainted with.
Mia told me a little about Beckett's life.
He is a celebrated doctor who recently discovered a drug that could pave the way for a definitive cure for cancer.
While the trials are still being conducted, accolades are being withheld until final results are in but Mia said the medical community hails Beckett as a hero.
You would never know from the way Beckett conducts himself that he is the man who cured cancer.
He has a dangerous kind of aloofness that presents more as mob boss than savior.
Because of the importance of Beckett's work, there are some in his club (that’s how Mia refers to it) who want Beckett in their back pocket to create things that he may not want to be a part of.
I am lifted harshly into a man's arms. It is not the same man who grabbed me in the restaurant, this one is massive; he lifts me as if I were a leafless twig.
With swift broad steps we move forward and, while I do not want to make a sound, he is holding me too tightly and it squeezes my broken ribs causing me to moan in pain.
“Does the little dancer not like being carried? Or is this giving you a bigger bang than your fake husband?”
Since I am gagged, I don't say anything. I am not sure what is happening but the end goal has to be something terrifying. Most women who are abducted don't survive. He doesn't carry me for long and soon we are in a house or structure. It is stiflingly hot and I immediately feel uncomfortable.
The man drops me from his arms and I free fall until I bounce onto a stiff mattress. My ribs scream in pain as does my leg. Both are healed but landing so harshly sends bolts of agony through every nerve.
The man is on top of me in moments and I try to wriggle away, almost forgetting my injuries. I didn't even think about someone violating me while I was in this condition. I try begging through the gag but it does no good.
“Shut up bitch, I'm not here for your snatch,” the metallic voice scolds. “Maybe later, after things settle down, you’ll get a taste of what a real man feels like.” He grabs my breast and squeezes hard, making my milk come out.
A sudden wave of sadness crashes over me. Having a man paw at my breasts breaks my heart because those were for my baby. I didn't have a lot of milk, but what I had I gave her. Knowing she is so far away is enough to destroy the tiny semblance of sanity I cling to.
“Oh shit, what the fuck is that?” The robotic voice exclaims, sounding more human.
Another metal-sounding voice, one lower and more like Darth Vader, chimes in somewhere on the other side of the room. “Breast milk. Beckett knocked up a one-night stand and married it.”
Fuck, ‘it.’ I am not going to survive this.
I have no way of even getting the men’s attention.
With my arms and legs bound, my eyes covered, and my mouth gagged, I can't engage with them enough to see me as anything more than a lump of flesh.
Despite the fact that I am probably just about to die, hearing myself referred to as a knocked-up one-night stand that Beckett seemed obligated to marry reduces my entire life and my motherhood to nothing but an unfortunate inconvenience.
I didn’t take Beckett's money that night because I wanted to be respected as a woman, as his equal. I hoped to be seen as an adult having consensual sex for fun without strings, without judgment, and without one person being more influential than the other. How badly had I fucked that up?
While I am battling with myself and my inner demons, the two men holding me captive are whispering to each other.
“She can’t go longer than a day without water. It's been a few hours, we might as well let her have a little.”
A little water doesn't necessarily mean they plan on keeping me alive, but they aren't going to kill me just yet. Letting me have water means giving me a chance to move my mouth so I can say something. Now the pressure is to think of what to say.
Both men leave the room for a short period of time. A while later, I hear footsteps return. It is the big guy. I can tell by the way the mattress dips beside me as he kneels on it.
“If you scream no one will hear you. It’ll just piss me off and I’ll probably punch you in the face. If you talk to me I might do the same. I have no power in this situation so don't ask me to help you,” the man says with his voice still modulated.
OK, so clearly he’s abducted people before.
It takes the pressure off of saying something clever since talking at all could get my face bashed in, but not making a plea also feels wrong.
He lifts me up by the arms and props me against a wall.
I can feel the stony hardness and texture against my hair. It feels like concrete.
The man pulls the ski mask off of my head and I am hit by a wave of warm, stuffy air. Before I can get a chance to look at the man his hand flies to my face. I scream through the gag and reel back thinking he is just going to punch me for no reason, but instead, he is covering my eyes.
“Hold still. I’m not going to hit you. Don’t move and keep your eyes closed, I have to put this on.” His voice is still rough, but a little softer.
I do what he asks. Though my heart is beating out of my chest, I finally am connecting with my feelings. Perhaps having the mask off makes me feel more human. But then he presses a sleep mask to my face and wraps it with something else to tie behind my head.
It all becomes too much. I start to cry.
I have remained silent as requested, but for the duration of time it takes to secure a blindfold around my eyes I sob. I know I shouldn't have started crying because it makes it harder to breathe.
“Shut the fuck up,” is his response.
“Leee,” I try to speak through the gag because I am about to throw up. “Ayyeee.” I make a sound to try to express that I am about to be sick.
“Fuck,” he shouts, gets up off the mattress and kicks my foot. “Are you gonna puke?” I nod my head to his question. “Goddam it.”
If he doesn't hurry I am going to puke all over the mattress and myself. Luckily he comes back with a bucket that smells like paint. I must be in the basement of a house. He shoves it up under my face and yanks my head forward then unties my gag and rips it from my face just in time for me to throw up. And boy do I throw up. The stress of everything I’d endured accumulates in that bucket.
I am surprised he holds it for me as long as he does.
But when I finally finish I start shaking all over.
I don't feel well at all. Perhaps the drugs they'd used to knock me out are reacting with my pain medication.
I must have been asleep for a very long time because crazy things are happening to my body.
“Just relax,” he says and gently places my head back against the wall.
I try to relax and breathe.
“Thank you,” I rasp quietly trying to wipe my face on my shoulder, but unable to reach it.
“Don’t,” the man barks at me and I stop and swallow, now really needing the water.
I lay my head back and don’t move with the remnants of whatever I just gacked up slicking my chin. I feel vulnerable and disgusting. Then a coarse rag that smells like gasoline roughs over my face. At least I don't have puke on me anymore, but now I smell like an auto mechanic.
I don't thank him again but the next thing to come to my face is a plastic glass with a rough edge that he places between my lips. The water smells like bleach and chemicals. I don't care of course; I’d drink piss at this point I am so thirsty.
“Drink slow or you’ll puke again and next time, I’ll let you fucking rot in it.” Though his words are harsh, his actions are a little kinder. He doesn't just pour the water down my face; he takes his time letting me have small sips and little breaks between drinks.
“Do you have kids?” I ask softly, suddenly realizing he must because of the way he waits between drinks.
Either he has given water to plenty of captives, which is possible, or he has a young child who can't drink water on their own.
With the tender way he offers the water, juxtaposed with the harshness of his words, I know he has children, a toddler at least.
“I told you not to fucking speak, bitch.” He pulls my ear.
“I hope they don’t have to live without their momma,” I say softly, feeling the tears again.
He doesn't say anything, just gives me one more sip and lifts himself up off the mattress. Within moments, he is gone. The fact that he didn’t say anything to my last comment means I got to him. One point for me, no points for the monster.
I sit for the rest of the day with my thoughts. It is hard not to let my mind spiral into dark and terrifying places. Instead of ruining my own mental health, I focus on Rayne’s little face and fingers, Mia's laughter, and well, embarrassing as it is to admit, Beckett's cock.
There is more to remember and miss about Beckett, but that is a complicated string of feelings.
I am not sure if he hates me and likes my body, or likes me and my body but doesn't want to commit to the fake wife he married.
Beckett is very hard to understand. The easiest way for me to feel safe and loved around him is to tease him and push him away.
That is not the way adults have relationships, but I am confused when it comes to Beckett.
He is mature and sexy, kind of like Zeus, Adonis, or an omnipotent lord.
I really just want to fall at his feet and love him but that is just as much a fantasy as getting out of that basement alive.