Skylar
“Your eye is looking better.”
It’s the only indication I have that time is passing.
I stay quiet, refusing to engage in conversation because I know how much the silent treatment pisses him off.
Placing his hands on his hips, he huffs out a breath. “We’re gonna have one of those days today, huh?”
Those days consist of him pretending to be nice. Only, when he realizes it does nothing to sway my bleak mood, he grows frustrated and does something that makes it worse.
So much worse.
“I thought we had a breakthrough yesterday.”
By breakthrough he means threatening to break every single limb in my body if I didn’t act happy when I talked to Storm on the phone.
I waited for a small opportunity to convey that I was in trouble, but Josh watched me like a hawk.
I briefly debated telling Storm that my favorite lipstick was SOS, but chickened out at the last second. I couldn’t run the risk of him not picking up on it.
Then I may never make it out of here.
“Did you fuck Storm behind my back, too?”
Yup. I knew that was coming sooner or later.
I answer in hopes that he won’t fly into another one of his jealousy-fueled psychotic episodes. “No.”
“Then why did he call you?”
“Just like you heard him say, he wanted to buy a present for Grams,” I remind him for the hundredth time since yesterday. “I’ve helped him pick out a few things for her before.”
Blue eyes narrow. “Strange.”
The only thing strange is him. “What is?”
Damn it. Don’t take the bait.
He sits down in a chair next to the bed. “You know Storm can’t stand you now, right? Neither can anyone else.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “I think Memphis is pretty fond of me.”
Guess that feisty girl is still somewhere inside me after all.
I wince when the back of his hand connects with my cheekbone.
“Do you want him to come out again?”
Ha. The demon is already out.
The current exchange reminds me of another one we’ve had.
Once, after a particularly grueling night of partying, I had a complete breakdown and asked him why he felt the need to get drunk and high all the time.
Why we couldn’t just be a normal couple who watched movies and ordered takeout on a Saturday night.
And why couldn’t he see that he was becoming an addict and letting it take over his life.
After avoiding me and my concerns for the better part of the night, he finally confessed that he needed substances to numb himself.
Or rather, the demon inside him.
The one his father caused.
He didn’t like who he was or what he felt and needed something to take the edge off.
He claimed it was better for everyone this way.
While I didn’t condone his drug use after that, at least I could understand the reasoning behind it.
Which is awfully ironic because aside from a few beers and joints, he’s been relatively sober.
Sober and miserable.
“A week after we signed our contracts, Vic and Alexis sat us down and we had an emergency meeting about you,” Josh prattles on.
That’s news to me.
“Alexis wanted all of us to be single and all but demanded I break up with you. She told me having a girlfriend was a bad PR move and Vic agreed with her.” He holds my gaze. “So did the rest of the guys.”
What? I mean, I get it from a PR standpoint.
“Phoenix and Storm said they weren’t going to let some country slut ruin their dreams and that I needed to dump you.
Even Memphis agreed with them.” He slaps his chest. “But you know who had your back? Me. I looked those bastards in the eyes and told them to go fuck themselves. That you and I were a team, and I wasn’t leaving you behind. ”
He grips my chin forcefully. “Remember that the next time you think they’re your friends. Because trust me when I say that every single one of those assholes would drop you like a bad habit in order to keep their careers. Memphis included.”
My heart twists as those blue orbs lock on mine. “You aren’t important to them. The only reason they even tolerate having you around is because of me.”
I want to chalk this all up to the ramblings of a madman, but deep down I know there’s merit to what he’s saying.
Even if they like this country slut now, the guys would never give up their dreams for me.
I’d never want them to.
Which means I have no one to turn to.
At the end of the day their loyalty will always be to the band first and foremost.
Josh sniffs the air and makes a face like he smells something rancid. “Damn. You fucking reek.”
That’s what happens when you’re not allowed to bathe in God only knows how long.
When you’re forced to lay in sweat-soaked sheets for nearly every minute of the day and night.
When you’ve been stripped of your humanity.
“I’d let you take a shower, but you still haven’t earned my trust.”
Ha. I don’t want it.
But I need it.
It’s the only difference between being a prisoner in actual handcuffs, and that’s allowed to use the bathroom and inhale fresh air.
“I’m not going to run away.”
He points to his face. “Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
“No,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “But you look like you could easily overpower me if you wanted to. Oh, that’s right…you can. Because that’s exactly how I ended up here.”
Rubbing his chin, he thinks about this for a minute. “You have a point.”
It’s hardly leverage, but I’ll take it.
Maybe there’s a way to get more of it.
“Doesn’t matter.” I close my eyes. “I’d much rather sleep.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Eventually my hygiene will become so bad you won’t even want to come in here anymore.”
I can’t wait.
“Fuck this. I’m tired of you sleeping all the time.” He takes a key out of his pocket. “Your rank, lazy ass is going in the shower.”
Good ol’ reverse psychology.
I practically whimper when he undoes the cuffs. My poor wrists are raw, and I can’t remember the last time my arms had this much blood flow.
Especially the poor arm Josh had to pop back into its socket.
It hurt so much I almost asked for drugs. Too bad he didn’t have any.
The thought has a lightbulb turning on in my brain. With it comes a new surge of resolve.
We’re halfway to the bathroom when I cry out and make my body go slack.
“What the fuck?”
“It hurts.”
“What does?”
I scrunch my face, thinking of all the things that never fail to make me cry.
Animals and children in distress. Kids with fatal diseases. My mom dying. Clowns. Missing out on an awesome sale. Losing Memphis.
“My arm,” I scream in agony.
“I fixed it,” he argues. “It—”
“Hurts,” I wail. “Something’s wrong. I think it might be broken.”
“Shit.” It’s clear the possibility that I’d need medical care after his abuse never even occurred to him. Shocker. “It’s not like I can take you to a goddamn doctor.”
“Can’t you get one to come here?”
“Hell no.”
Because they’d have an awful lot of questions regarding how I got my injury and why the hell he’s holding someone hostage.
Truth be told, someone in his position could easily pay a doctor off, but Josh no longer has the kind of money it would take to buy their silence.
“Please,” I beg. “I’m gonna pass out from the pain.”
“I’m sure it will be better tomorrow.” He rubs his neck and sighs. “You’re just gonna have to tough it out.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
Despite his temper growing, I push harder.
“I know you’re angry with me. I deserve it after what I did to you. But I thought you still loved me.”
I peer up at him with desperate, tear-stained eyes, hoping I resemble the crying girl in the window.
The one he claimed to fall in love with instantly.
I had no idea he saw me that night…not until he told me years later.
Right before he convinced me to finally have sex with him.
God, I’m such a fucking idiot. If I ever make it out of this hellhole, I’m getting the word tattooed on my forehead.
“I do love you,” he says.
You don’t know what love is. “Then help me. Please.”
“I can’t.”
Despite his protests, I can feel him caving.
“Yes, you can.”
“How?” He pulls at his hair. “How the fuck can I help you?”
It’s now or never.
“I don’t know.” I sniffle, trying my hardest to muster up more tears. “Can’t you at least give me something for the pain?”
“Like what?”
“How should I know? You’re the one with drug dealers on speed dial, remember?”
He takes a step back. “You want me to get you drugs?”
I want freedom.
Maybe the lack of food and sunlight is eating away at my brain, but I can’t help but think that maybe Josh’s party-boy hiatus has less to do with him wanting to refrain from using and everything to do with him wanting to be in full control.
When he’s high and drunk, he’s the life of the party.
Nine out of ten times, he’s happy. Relaxed.
Impulsive and foolish.
Sloppy.
On his worst night, he’ll yell incoherent obscenities and stumble around until he finally passes out.
I can practically see his fingers itching with the urge to call his dealer.
Talk about a mind fuck.
Once upon a time, I used to be the angel on his shoulder. Trying my absolute hardest to convince him not to do drugs.
“The pain is killing me, Josh.”
Now I’m the devil whispering in his ear, tempting him to give in.
The moment he takes his phone out of his pocket I feel something I haven’t felt since the moment Memphis told me he loved me.
Hope.
I feel his stare moments before he speaks. “Feel any better?”
“A little. Thank you.”
I was able to take a shower and eat. For a few precious moments I felt like a human being again.
Right before the bastard handcuffed me to the bed. Naked.
But the tides are changing in my favor again because now he’s holding a mirror with some white powder on it.
Come on. Just do it. You know you want to.
Hesitating, he taps the edge of the mirror…like he’s trying to muster the willpower to resist.
A flicker of victory goes through me when he finally lowers his head and snorts.
“Good.” Placing the mirror down, he rises to his feet. “Hope it was worth it.”
The ominous tone of his voice has the tiny hairs on my arms lifting as he walks over to the dresser.
The air around him changes. Heavy. Unpredictable.
“W-what are you doing?”
He opens a drawer. Metal slides against wood.
“You got dick from my brother on the side, but you said yes to marrying me…so I was willing to forgive you.”
Why is he speaking in past tense?
The flash of silver from the knife he pulls out of the drawer steals my breath. “Josh—”
“You want honesty, right?” His voice is eerily steady. “So here it is…I kept tabs on you.” He pulls out a rag, polishing the blade with it. “I needed to know your loyalty still lay with me. So, I set up shop in a hotel room and did a little…surveillance.”
There aren’t enough words in the human language to convey just how much I hate him.
“I saw all the calls you made to him while I was gone. Begging.” Anxiety spikes through me when he points the knife at my face. “I watched you drive to his apartment.”
Fuck. I had no idea he was spying on me.
I should have known.
He tosses something onto the bed. My stomach twists when I realize it’s a balled-up tissue containing the pill I didn’t swallow. “You think I didn’t see this?”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
I was scared it would make me drowsy and I’d lose my only opportunity to convince him to free me.
Clearly, that was a mistake.
Because he knew. He always knows.
“Once again, you proved you’re not only a cheating whore, but a fucking liar.
” A sinister smile bends his lips before he pops the pill into his mouth.
“My baby thought she could outsmart me.” He laughs without humor.
“That she could crawl inside my head and twist it like she twists everyone else’s. ”
Dumb. So fucking dumb.
The knife presses against my skin in warning.
I stop breathing.
“Sorry to break it to you, but the demon is in me no matter what, Skylar. If anything, being high just makes him a little more wild.”
Every instinct screams at me to move, but fear keeps me rooted to the spot. If I so much as flinch, I’ll bleed.
“Josh, please.”
I yelp when he nicks my collarbone.
“Don’t.” The venom in his voice is sharper than the blade. “You had your chance to be honest.”
Sheer terror wraps around me when he presses the knife to my neck. “Please—”
I gag when he thrusts the rag into my mouth.
“Relax, baby. I’m just conducting a little experiment. Can Josh still be in control when he’s high off his ass? Or will he accidentally stab his fiancée to death?”
I force my body to go still, too afraid the slightest little movement will slash my throat.
“You said you wanted a doctor before.” I recoil when he pokes my breast with the knife. “Maybe I’ll become a surgeon and cut out these tits I paid for. Maybe then you’ll stop letting other men enjoy them.”
I whimper against the rag which only pleases him more.
Clicking his tongue, he taps my hip with the blade. “We both know that’s not a bass guitar.”
The room narrows. There’s only him, the glint of metal…and the pounding of my heart.
“Did you ever stop to think about how much your betrayal would hurt me?”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, but it’s muffled by the rag.
I’m sorry I ever fell in love with him.
I’m sorry I never left him until it was too late.
I’m sorry I chose him.
“Save it. I’m not interested in hearing you speak.
Every time you do, it’s nothing but lies.
” He snatches a fistful of my hair, forcing me to look into his cold, heartless eyes.
“But you’re not the only one who can tell a lie.
The demon’s always here, Skylar. Even when I’m sober. Especially when I’m not.”
My mind begins to float. Disconnecting from my body. Searching for somewhere—anywhere—else to be.
“What’s the matter, baby girl? I thought you wanted to leave me?” he mocks. “Did you have a sudden change of heart?”
Don’t give him your fear. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
I focus on my breathing. On the tiny sliver of moonlight peeking beneath the curtains.
A perverse satisfaction washes over his features, and he grips my throat. “Too bad for you, the only way you’re leaving me is in a body bag.”
My vision fills with spots as he squeezes tighter.
The tiny bit of hope I was clinging to dissolves.
I can’t trick him. I can’t fight him off…
Because he’s a monster.
And in the end, they always win.