41. Chapter 41
41
Sophie
What the fuck happened?
The surface beneath my right arm is hard and rough with what feels like little bits of gravel digging into my skin. My head hangs awkwardly to one side. I’m clearly not in my bed. When I open my eyes to darkness, my pulse quickens. Did I go blind too? No, wait. My eyelashes brush against some kind of cloth. I’m blindfolded. My heartbeat is like a painful drum in my head, concentrated in one spot on the left side. I try to raise my hand to feel what I expect is a cartoonish lump, but something tightens around my wrists. It’s rough, burning when I turn my hands. Rope?
Seriously, what the fuck happened?
Since I can’t physically do it, I focus through the pounding ache in my head to mentally examine the rest of my body. My ankles must be bound too, likely by the same rough material. I can’t straighten my legs. Something must be connecting my wrists and ankles. Using my elbow to push myself, I roll onto my back, bringing my hands to rest on my stomach and pulling my ankles up.
“Sooophie.”
Caleb might as well have doused me in ice water for the cold fear that takes hold of me. The elongated pronunciation of my name breaks through the fog of pain in an instant.
“Sophie.”
This one is short and quick .
Of fucking course .
“We were worried you’d sleep all day.”
Jesse’s here too, I gather.
“Nothing to say?” asks Caleb.
My mouth is dry, but even if I could speak, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I won’t scream. I won’t beg. I’m fucking terrified, there’s no denying that. Caleb has proven he’s a dangerous man and his brother is worse, but I refuse to wither in his clutches.
“I came to find you, baby.” His tone is overly sweet and my stomach churns. “You’ve been gone so long. I’ve been so lonely.”
Even as I steel myself, questions race through my mind.
Did Natalie realize something was wrong when I didn’t come home to see her off? It’s not weird that I didn’t come home, given where she knew I’d be all night.
Will Brody and Miles hate me for disappearing? Will they think I freaked out after last night and ghosted them? Will they search for me?
My best guess is Caleb plans to return me to Oklahoma, maybe keep me locked up like that girl in Room . He’s lost his goddamn mind if he thinks I won’t scratch his eyes out the first chance I get.
My blood boils at the thought of leaving Natalie and the guys– my guys–to wonder about my fate. How fucking dare Caleb do this? How dare he threaten the life I worked so hard to build? I could fucking kill him.
Cold fear is replaced by burning rage, taking hold in my chest and radiating to my limbs. He won’t break me. I won’t let him. He forced me to put up walls around my heart, but Brody and Miles already tore those down, brick by brick. I’ve never been cared for– loved –the way I am by them. Caleb Cunt Rag Davis has no right to take me from them.
A foot connects with my side and I cry out in pain, despite my promise to myself to keep silent.
“She does have a voice,” Jesse snickers. If he was within reach, I’d jam my thumbs in his beady little eyeballs.
“Does your boyfriend know what you are?” asks Caleb.
“Which one?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Caleb sneers.
“I’m gonna enjoy punishing you, you know that? You ran from me. That’s not what good girlfriends do. ”
I’m not your fucking girlfriend.
Rough hands grip my chin and I hear someone spit just before a wet splat lands on my nose and cheek. I wonder if he was aiming for my mouth. Dumbass.
“You got any idea how long I’ve been looking for you, bitch?” Caleb snarls when I don’t respond, “I’m talking to you.” His hand collides with my cheek, my face turning abruptly to the side. It doesn’t help my headache. “I’ll teach you to respect me.”
Fat chance of that. Disrespect is all he’s ever getting from me again.
“Say something.” Caleb smacks me again. My teeth slice into my lower lip and the taste of blood fills my mouth. I right my head but remain silent. “Let’s get her in the chair.”
Two sets of hands grab my upper arms to haul me off of the floor. I’m forced to crouch on the balls of my feet until the tether connecting my wrists and ankles is released. The sound of a knife sawing through the rope precedes a final snap and I’m able to stand, though I still need steadying.
Rather than free my ankles, the brothers drag me backward and throw me in a chair. Cold metal almost stings my skin where my shirt has ridden up in the back. I hiss at the contact.
The blindfold is removed from my eyes, allowing me to examine my prison cell. We’re surrounded by what looks like an unfinished construction site. It clearly hasn’t been touched in years. Past Caleb, a good fifteen feet in front of me, is a large window spray-painted with colorful graffiti. I can’t see through the paint. For all I know, we could be on the second or the twenty-second floor. Above the graffiti, the sun is setting. The sky to the left is already purple near the top of the window.
To my right is a folding table and two matching chairs. On the other side of the cheap furniture is a closed, white door.
My eyes focus on Caleb when he squats in front of me. He sneers like he’s some evil genius who’s just revealed a grand plot twist in a superhero movie. I haven’t forgotten his beady, little brown eyes, just a little too close together. His nose is crooked. It’s been broken more times than even he probably knows, mostly by his brother. His gym bro build is about his only redeeming physical quality, but it looks like he hasn’t found the time to work out as much lately. Probably something to do with stalking me for two months.
They can’t have been staying here. This place is obviously abandoned–they’d have no running water or facilities. I want to ask, but I don’t want to make it seem like I care, like it’s been driving me mad not knowing when he’d attack. I don’t care. They could have been staying here or in a five-star hotel. It wouldn’t make any difference to me.
Caleb reaches out to brush his fingers over my knee and when I flinch, he takes it in his grasp and squeezes. He studies me while his fingers tighten, but all I do is swallow and maintain eye contact. His jaw clenches, the side of his nose twitching with anger when I don’t react again, even though his grip is beginning to hurt.
“Guess I should be grateful you finally learned to shut your whore mouth.” The back of his other hand makes contact with my cheek before wrapping around my throat when I turn my eyes back to him. “Did the notes scare you?” he asks, clearly trying to sound scary.
“Quit talking,” Jesse grumbles from behind me. I had almost forgotten he was here. “I wanna play.” Caleb’s hand drops from my throat, the other loosening its grip on my knee.
The way he says that word– play –as if it means something far more sinister sends a shiver through me. My anger from before has started to cool, despite staring at the man who made me flee my home. Who made me feel weak. Who made me feel less than.
“You told me we’d have fun with her.”
I close my eyes against Jesse’s words. These fucking brothers. Ruining my goddamn life even after I ran halfway across the country to leave Caleb’s violent ass. I want to scream. I want to rage and break things and push Caleb and his cunt of a brother off the goddamn roof.
When I open my eyes again, Caleb is grinning. He obviously believes he finally got a reaction from me. He has to know that it was Jesse who did it, though. Has to know that it was Jesse’s words that forced a response.
Jesse’s hand falls on my shoulder, but I don’t look at it. I focus my eyes on the graffiti on the window, memorizing it like it’s a beautiful piece of art in a museum. The hand on my shoulder slides toward my neck, leaving a trail of decidedly creepy goosebumps in its wake. When he reaches the back of my neck, Jesse moves quickly, fisting my hair, his grip tight. He yanks backward and I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain.
“Look at me, you worthless bitch.”
No. I refuse.
“I fucking said look at me.”
Jesse’s fingers begin to pry open one of my eyelids. Caleb laughs in front of me and I give in, opening my eyes to avoid further pain or worse. Jesse stares down at me, grimacing–or maybe smiling? With him, it’s hard to tell. He looks like his brother, only several inches taller. His muscular build doesn’t seem to have suffered during their stay in LA and I wonder if Jesse has been here the whole time or if that’s what Caleb was waiting for. Maybe that’s why it took him so long to act. He needed his guard dog.
“I dunno what my brother ever saw in you,” Jesse mutters, studying me. I notice his eyes stray to my tank top.
“She was a good little slut for me,” Caleb muses. I can’t look at him with Jesse’s hand still stuck in my hair. “Until she started fucking other people.”
“That was for work ,” I snarl. Fuck being silent. I supported his chronically unemployed ass.
“Don’t lie.” Jess pulls harder on my hair. “You liked it. You wanted to make a fool of my brother.”
“Shut up, Jesse.”
“I don’t think your brother likes that,” I sneer. It earns my hair another tug. If Jesse doesn’t let up, he’s going to rip it out in chunks, but I can’t stop now. “Are you just gonna keep insulting me all day?”
Jesse finally lets go of my hair.
“Still too early to start the real fun,” says Caleb, glancing out the window.
The blindfold descends over my eyes and then a ball gag is being shoved into my mouth, forcing my jaw open. It’s buckled behind my head and then I’m left alone. Whether the Davis brothers actually leave or simply remain silent over the next few hours, I’m not sure. It gives me time to swing between rage and despair. Rage at Caleb for ruining a life I worked hard to construct and despair that I’ll never again feel Miles’ hands on my face or Brody’s arms around me.