Chapter Four #2
“Are you gonna go to the doctor today at least?” he asks.
I’m surprised, shocked even. Why would he care whether I go to the doctor? His face is concerned, his voice sincere. I can’t read any manipulation from him. Either he’s a master at it, or he’s genuinely concerned.
“I’m okay, honestly. If I get any symptoms, I promise to go straight to the hospital.”
His brows knit together but he eventually gives me a small nod.
“Talk to your brother, Olivia.”
Ignoring his last suggestion, I pick up the plates and return upstairs to work through the rest of my list.
◆◆◆
Austin’s concern for my well-being threw me into somewhat of a tailspin. The warmth in my chest grew cold at the mention of my brother. He wasn’t going to let him go. That much was clear.
At least not yet.
It seems that, in addition to this parting gift, the universe saw fit to grace me with more challenges today. My mom always used to say bad news comes in threes, but I disagree. It comes in threes, and then you just start counting from one again.
Of course, I’ve been distracted, imagining ways to convince Austin to let my brother go, my thoughts drifting to some dark places: I could deprive him of food and water.
I could take away his mattress and blanket.
This could escalate into something truly torturous.
I have the imagination, but none of the follow-through.
I’m not a bad person. I’m just doing a bad thing.
And the worst part is I think he knows it.
I hope that’s enough to ensure there won’t be any long-lasting repercussions to locking a man in my basement. Because as soon as I stop imagining torture, the inevitable guilt kicks in.
I’ve tried reviewing a product sent by a local sports clothing store that’s building its brand.
They’re small, local, and a product I genuinely enjoy wearing.
They’ve given me a few things to try, and I’ve made sure to give honest reviews.
But this morning, with the weight of a five-pound dumbbell on my chest, I know I’ll have to redo the reviews tomorrow.
I jot down a few thoughts in my notepad for my next attempt.
Perhaps a small clip to show that the fabric doesn’t turn see-through when you bend over.
Sure, I’d have to show my ass, but I could make it a funny clip.
This is the kind of thing women would do in a changing room.
It’s one of the hardest things about ordering online.
You can’t tell how good the quality is unless you try it on.
After finishing up my notes regarding upcoming posts, I relax for the rest of the morning. My brain is too wired to do any genuine work, and my head is thumping from last night’s injury downstairs.
I’ve made a simple sandwich for lunch and, of course, one for the houseguest, replacing his water bottles, too.
I don’t say a word to him when I go down, the cowardly torture method I’ve gone with, and despite his somber expression, I can tell he wants to talk. I leave without a word and only hear a muffled fuck as I’m ascending the stairs.
My heart squeezes as my body naturally comes to a slow pause at the top of the stairs.
No.
He’s not your friend.
Or your houseguest, no matter how many times you call him that.
He’s holding your brother hostage.
Fuck him. Calm down—not literally.
When I return to the basement with dinner six hours later, my muscles ache from the poor workout and stretch I’ve done. My shoulder is burning, and my head is thumping. I throw back a few Advil to take the edge off and prepare myself for a silent dinner.
The afternoon has gone worse than the morning. I feel like crap, but I’ve received more bad news that has sent me into a tailspin. My rage is seeping out of me, and I know I won’t be able to hold it in around him. So I’ll give him his food, eat, and get out.
When I knew I was going to kidnap Austin, I had planned to eat with him. I knew it would be a good opportunity to lay some groundwork. And honestly? I enjoy eating with others. It seems so pitiful to eat alone watching some Netflix documentary or listening to a podcast. I miss having Danny around.
And after this afternoon’s events, I need a distraction, and what better one than the chained-up man in my basement?
I can hear Austin adjusting his position on the mattress as I’m walking down. The chains clink together like a cat with a bell around its neck. At least he’s still alive.
“Hey, how are you?” he asks softly as I hand him his dinner. Spaghetti bolognese, my mom’s recipe. The reminder of her warms my chest until my body feels somewhat renewed.
I pause for a moment, truly thinking about my day and how it’s gone from bad to worse.
“Fine.”
Lies.
I twist spaghetti around my fork and take a big bite, saving myself from answering truthfully.
Now, for the most part, I’d say I’m a positive person. I live in the now, but plan for the future. I love the business I’m building, but parts are repetitive, and parts are negative.
My channel started a year ago when I was learning the ropes at community college to get a degree in business.
I wanted so much to live my own life and be my own boss.
Working for someone else comes with a level of security, but honestly, I have too much rebellion running through my veins to be told what to do all day long.
Sure, you know when your next paycheck is coming, but the lack of flexibility and vacation days, not that I really took any of those, fills me with a sense of impending dread when I think about applying for real jobs.
When Danny and I were orphaned at such a young age, I knew I wanted to build something that was mine, that would take care of us.
So, I worked as a personal trainer on the side while I studied at college in the evenings. And when I realized how much I enjoyed doing it and wearing comfy workout clothes all day, I knew I had to incorporate it into my business plan.
After years of hard work, the videos really took off around six months ago.
I started doing short reels to entice followers on my other social media platforms, but ultimately, the bulk of my money is earned through my channel.
Currently, my subscriber list is around 400,000, but it’s steadily climbing each month.
Luckily, it’s started bringing in some revenue for me, which supplements my product review and affiliated marketing.
As well as circuit workout videos, which is what I initially started with, I’ve now done courses to be trained in pilates, stretching, and meditation to create a more holistic approach to health. As well as a short cooking series which did okay—focusing on easy, healthy snacks for work.
Most of the reception I get is positive. Some of it is lewd or crass. A lot of it is people making suggestions that I should improve my form or leave it to the experts, honey . I chalk it up to people being a little jealous or maybe just bored. The trolls are inevitable.
But then there are some seriously malicious attacks. And today, there have been a few repeat offenders.
Millie Gilbert is another fitness vlogger and my virtual nemesis. She’d started her channel a few years before I had, but I hadn’t heard of her until she began commenting on my videos, claiming that I’d stolen her routines and passed them off as my own. Despite my videos being posted before hers.
There was no truth in the matter, so I ignored her comments, allowing them to be drowned out by the more positive ones.
I’d ended up having to block her completely after her repeated attempts to brand me as a cheat and a thief.
It hurts because I’ve worked hard on my business, and I’m really proud of where I’ve got to today. But the video I was tagged in over one hundred times today was from her account, so I knew I’d be discussed at some point.
What I didn’t expect was to see Travis, my ex, sitting alongside Millie with a somber expression on his face.
Travis is a self-proclaimed finance bro.
However, I would like to point out that he’s not six-foot-five, nor does he have blue eyes or dark hair.
He is, however, a total douche. We dated for six months, and once he saw the success of my channel and the potential earnings, he was convinced he could become an influencer discussing finance and how to invest in stocks and crypto.
His videos lacked thought and intelligence, and he rambled about how men were just better than women at investing.
I tried to give him pointers to improve and reach his target audience, as in men like him. But he said if I could do it, it really wasn’t that hard, and I should stay in my lan e.
So I did. I kicked him out, stayed in my lane, and since dumping his ass, gained an additional 100,000 followers. I generally don’t like the energy that gloating puts out into the world, but revenge really is a dish best served cold.
His repeated attempts to get back into my life certainly helped my ego, but it got rather annoying with his incessant whining about how I was intimidating to him.
I’m not intimidating at all. He was intimidated, and that’s not something I can control.
So again, I just blocked him and moved on.
But after watching the eight-minute-and-twenty-three-second video, my stomach’s been rolling.
Bile is bubbling away, threatening to roll up my throat at any moment.
I am furious and stressed, and I can do nothing about it.
I have no one to turn to. No one is here to support me.
My parents are dead, and Danny is god knows where.
Millie had essentially recruited Travis to confirm her story. That I’d taken her ideas and profited off them. His bitterness at our break up and his subsequent lack of success is glaringly obvious to me, but to my followers? This could break my business.
So no, I’m not fine. But what am I supposed to say to the man sitting on my old mattress in my basement? I could hardly spill my guts to him and have a good old cry, which, if I’m honest, is desperately needed. I need my mom. I want her to tell me it is all going to be alright.
So I’ll lie, get what I need from him, and get him out of my life.