“I’d never use it on you.” Spoken with a matter of fact tone that covered the darkness in his voice, he washed another plate before talking to her again. “But this house is impossible to escape unless you know the codes, and dying from starvation or thirst can’t be the most pleasant way to go. Killing me would only trap you in a cage, Alice, a cage you have no hope to escape in time.”
Her mind spun down a dizzying spiral, the truth of his words smacking against her every so often as they spun along right beside her. Thoughts brought back to her mind’s eye all the metallic panels and flashing lights that proved turning a simple key or deadbolt lock wouldn’t deliver her to freedom. She’d hated technology as she’d watch it manifest in the modern world while she grew, and she hated it now more than ever. Modern devices had served to put people all over the world in contact with each other at the touch of a button, while removing them from participating in their every day lives with the people who were sitting right next to them. Now, as the situation in her case had turned out, it also prevented her escape from a man she wished existed on some other part of the planet far away from where she or her sister had once lived their ordinary, non-tragic lives.
After finishing the last dish, he watched her as she polished off the beads of hot water and placed it in a rack.
“We’ve both had a difficult day. I think it’s time for us to see if we can get some sleep.”
A few seconds before and she would have sworn the situation couldn’t get worse, but he’d proven her wrong with two sentences.
Her legs became jelly beneath her, sticky sweat reaching out to grasp onto the fabric of her dress and hug it tightly against her skin. “Bed? Am I…are we…”
He studied her with amusement, the height he had over her making her feel like a small child. With a calculated gaze that was as mysterious and beautiful as an iceberg turned so that its belly breached the surface, his eyes were as cold and unforgiving as the ocean that harbored those deadly islands of ice that had sunk so many ships.
“Take the stairs up to the bedroom. Sit down on the edge of the bed. I’ll be up in a moment to give you your night clothes.”
Panic set in, her body trembling as she put distance between them, happy to walk away but not happy about where she was going.
She could refuse, could attempt to find a place to hide in the large three story house, but with the cameras and monitors she knew he had tucked away and hidden, she would only be risking another terrifying show like the one he’d played out for her earlier.
Mounting the stairs with a hesitant foot, she climbed them one by one, each step reminding her of what she’d seen on the television screen that stood proudly in the sitting room off the study. Max hadn’t wasted any time teaching her the valuable lesson of what would become of the woman he kept caged in a room that belittled a happy, functional childhood; a place where the pinks ran with blood and the bed sheets were stained by the evidence of his violence and lust.
Reaching the top floor, she shook her head of the images that were seared on her psyche, of the muffled screams and pleading words that she only understood because she would have been crying the same desperate pleas had a man bent her over to flip her skirt to her back and force himself inside.
Her hand grasped the doorway of the bedroom where she’d earlier gotten dressed, the chains above the bed still foreboding where they swung from a ceiling that arched up beautifully with thick wood beams that followed the curve of the domed roof that was so typical of a house as beautiful as this.
Forcing herself inside, she sat on the edge of the bed, her legs heavy where they were pressed together, her mind a wash of pain because, rather than breaking a window and screaming for help, she was planted right where he’d told her to go.
Her entire life she’d considered herself stronger than the woman she now discovered herself to be: a victim, a weakling, a liar.
She’d lied to herself on the day she promised she’d choose death over torture, on the day she swore she’d never allow a person to torment her as much as the nightmares that plagued her every night.
Yet, there she was waiting and anxious to see what bedtime in this man’s house would bring.
12:31 p.m.
Gray walls.
Black table.
"Alice? ... Ms. Beaumont? ... Alice Beaumont ..."
"Yes, Doctor."
Five steps across the room.
Still the same.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Alice. Our last session was less eventful than the one prior. Do you feel better today?"
The doctor sat hopeful in his chair, leg crossed at the knee, his trusty pen held ready over paper. He stared at her with an anxious set to his brow.
His question flew aimlessly about the room, a balloon released and forgotten by a spoiled child. Softly, it hovered there, caught in the draft of the air conditioner, until settling its ribbon string on Alice’s shoulder and bursting with a loud pop that jogged her attention.
"I'm fine. Frustrated, I guess, but fine."