36
Ten years ago
Sitting on the floor in her corner, Crystal held as still as possible, trying not to move her jaw so she’d avoid the shooting pains. The man had twice hit her hard in the face that morning when she’d refused to eat the sandwich he’d brought.
Now I can’t eat.
She wondered if her mandible was broken.
She’d been in the brute’s remote shack .
. . Batcave . . . Fortress of Solitude .
. . for two weeks, ever since he’d caught her in the forest after she watched him shoot that woman.
She’d started to doubt what she’d seen, knowing she’d been a little drunk, and was now wondering if she’d imagined it.
Maybe he’d only hit that other woman too.
Crystal carefully rested her head on her knees, flinching at the pain.
I heard the gun.
Tears threatened. She’d never felt so helpless. Even when Gage had beat her ass, she’d always known he’d eventually settle down and things would return to normal. This man was different.
His mannerisms didn’t make sense to her.
She was accustomed to Gage’s quick temper and roller-coaster emotions.
This man’s rage simmered long and hot; she could practically feel it.
It filled the room. But it didn’t explode in a loud, reckless show.
Instead, it was quiet for a long time and then bam.
A precision blow to the jaw out of nowhere.
She couldn’t read this man. He was quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself until he’d reached a decision. With Gage she relied on his diarrhea of the mouth to know what was going on in his head. It gave her time to plan to stay out of his way.
This guy doesn’t seem very sharp.
But I’m the one being held captive.
The first few days he’d kept a rope around her stomach tied to an iron bar embedded in the wall and her hands and feet tied together, only loosening them when she needed to use the bathroom, which meant going outside to an outhouse—which had to be as old as the building—with a rope tied in a slipknot around her neck.
He’d given her a painful demonstration of what the slipknot did when he yanked.
It’d made her vision tunnel as she fought for air.
Lately he’d eased up on her restraints a little bit, primarily for his benefit.
Her hands were now tied in front instead of in back, so she could drink and feed herself instead of him handling every bite, and he only tied her to the iron bar at night.
Speaking out of turn earned her a blow to the mouth.
At first he’d warned her. Now the fist simply came out of nowhere if she spoke.
Keeping her mouth shut had always been an issue for her.
Then this man would say stupid things like “Women shouldn’t talk.
” Or “Men’s words are more important.” And tell her she had to obey him.
I’m stuck with a patriarchal asshole.
Gage had tried similar lines on her at the beginning of their marriage, but she’d fought back with words, fists, and teeth. He’d quickly realized she wouldn’t cave to him. Withholding sex helped her get her way too.
Since there were no windows, it was hard to tell when night drew close, so Crystal judged time by the dinner meal and when she grew sleepy.
In the evenings he’d take a seat in front of the fire on the only chair.
He’d stare into the flames for hours, making her wonder what was going through his literally thick skull.
She was getting angrier by the day. He had no right to keep her like a prisoner.
“You know slavery is illegal, right?” Apparently she couldn’t keep her mouth shut tonight, even when it hurt to form the words.
He slowly turned his head to look at her, his black gaze sending a chill up her spine. “You’re not a slave.”
She held up her tied hands. “Sure looks like it.”
“You’re my wife.”
What?
That was new.
“Well, that’s the biggest load of crap I’ve heard lately. You know I’m already married, right? Clearly you know my husband since I saw you with him the other night.”
“You’re my wife.” He stared her down. He seemed to believe it was true. “You’ll listen to me and do what I say.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Yes, it does. You’re my wife.”
“You had to steal one? Can’t you get a wife the normal way? Like everyone else?” She knew she was walking on a dangerous edge, and the pain in her jaw increased.
His voice was calm, but the air was becoming thick with his growing anger. “Wife.”
“That word doesn’t mean what you think it means,” she said in a masculine voice.
He stared.
Never seen The Princess Bride? Not quite the right quote but close enough.
“Stop talking.” His head swung toward the door, and then Crystal heard tires coming closer on the old road. He got to his feet and strode heavily to the door. He flipped up the metal latch, and the door creaked and groaned as he pulled it open. He stepped out and slammed it shut.
Crystal carefully stood and crossed the room, placing an ear to the crack of the door.
She’d already scouted the old place for something to use as a weapon.
He kept a lot of supplies in locked trunks outside.
Firewood was the only thing she could use—if she ever got the chance.
But he was so big and thick, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to make a difference with the wood. She needed something small and sharp.
“Where’s Crystal?” said a voice outside.
That’s Gage!
He’ll get me of here!
She grinned. Gage still loved her. He’d hollered at her several times that he no longer did—and she’d yelled the same thing back—but obviously deep down he truly loved her and had come to save her. He’d show this big asshole how he felt about her.
“She’s my wife now,” stated her captor.
“I brought you a wife. That was our deal,” said Gage. “You rejected her.”
“I didn’t like that one. Her hair wasn’t blonde.”
Are they talking about the woman I saw him kill?
Crystal stiffened against the door, wondering what kind of man killed a woman based on the color of her hair.
“Crystal is married to me. You can’t just decide that she’s married to you. There’s legal stuff and shit you have to do.”
“No, I don’t. She’s mine.”
“Well, who’s gonna grocery shop and clean for me? I need someone to take care of Emma.”
Crystal’s eyes narrowed. Apparently Gage wasn’t missing her out of love; he wanted his worker bee back.
“How old is the child?” asked the big man.
“Nine.”
She’s eight, you idiot.
“That’s almost a woman,” he said. “You can train her to do what you need.”
“That’s fucking work too!”
Crystal put her tied hands on the door, ready to yank it open and scream at Gage for being a dick.
“I like her. She looks like Phoebe. She lasted a couple years.”
Lasted a couple years?
She stepped back, trying to understand his words, her hands gone to ice. She turned and darted back to her corner and crouched, wiping at the filthy floor, and then froze when she found what she’d noticed earlier. A small P and a C had been scratched into the floor together.
P for Phoebe?
Did she sit in this corner too?
Crystal’s legs gave way, and she sat hard on the floor, her mind spinning as she understood that another woman had possibly been held in this place for years.
She ran her hands over the wood again and then searched the stone walls in the corner.
And swore she could faintly read other sets of initials.
How many women has he held here?
And now it was her turn. Unless Gage persuaded the man to let her go.
He’s such a chickenshit.
Gage always did what other men told him. He never argued to their faces. Instead, he came home and bitched to Crystal about what some jerk had insisted he do at work, or someone who’d cut him off on the road, or a guy who’d stared him down in a bar. No backbone.
Why did Gage bring him a woman?
She wondered how this man had established control over Gage.
Sure, the man was huge and strong. Probably five inches taller and eighty pounds heavier than Gage. But Gage was pretty good at avoiding people who wanted to kick the shit out of him. Crystal had lied several times to people who came to the front door looking for her husband. Even the cops.
Especially the cops.
She hated cops. Before she and Gage moved to the Eagle’s Nest area, she’d been arrested too many times for DUI and possession.
Even for the smallest amounts! The cops would roll their eyes when her neighbors would call because she or Gage was drunk and screaming at the other.
Living in an apartment building had been the worst. She liked that their current house was remote: no neighbors.
They’d both managed to avoid the cops for the most part in Deschutes County.
“She stays with me,” said the man, his voice rising. “You will leave now. If not, I will tell the police what you did to those other women.”
She strained her ears to hear Gage’s response.
“You were there too,” Gage said. There was no power behind his words.
“But I didn’t leave anything behind. You did.”
“What? What the fuck did you do?” Gage’s voice was shrill.
“I know how to protect myself.”
Silence.
Crystal went back to the door to listen as Gage’s silence stretched on. Then she heard a vehicle door slam and the engine start.
“No!” she shouted, banging her tied hands on the door. “No! Gage! Don’t leave me here!” The throbbing in her jaw made her vision tunnel.
The door flew open, knocking her back, and a large, very angry man stood there. Behind him, dust from Gage’s tires was visible in the distance.
Crystal scuttled back to her corner and sat, her jaw throbbing.
I’m going to die.