Taken by fate

Chapter 8

Air blowing, tussling my hair. I must have left my window open, yawning as I sat up, stretching my arms out, opening my eyes to see wooden posts and cement walls.
"Good morning."
Jumping away from you and your cheery voice.
Why were you still down here, realizing that I was asleep on your chest.
Had you done something to me while I was out? Looking down to see that my shirt was still only halfway buttoned. There was no blood on the sheets, turning away from you I quickly fastened the rest of the shirt before pulling my knees to my chest.
Recalling last night, the story you told about me and about you and me.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Not sure, I don't have a watch, couple hours maybe."
"Don't you have things to do?"
"I'm good right here."
Bed tipping down as you scooted closer. Gripping my knees tighter as your hands moved across my back separating my hair before you began to massage my shoulders.
Damned if I said it didn't feel good. Your thumbs, expertly moving along my muscles working out the cramps.
"Your tense, relax."
Head resting on my knees, arms wrapped around my shins, realizing that I was doing just that. Relaxing under your touch. Just like I had yesterday.
Shouldn't I be completely appalled by you? You were the reason that I was here. The reason why I couldn't contact my family. Though I found myself not wanting to move away.
"Please stop."My voice came out small and distant. Once again you listened and removed your hands.
Turning, placing my feet on the cool ground, my head still turned away from you as my sight caught onto the indents in the wood. Marked up just like your back. Curious I looked back towards you seeing that you hadn't moved, though your eyes were intently on me.
Biting my bottom lip, unsure if I really wanted to ask. Not sure how you would react, so far you hadn't shown any ounce of anger. Though that could just be because you were hiding that feeling, did I really want to take that chance on changing that?
What else did I have left to lose?
My life, I had already lost that the day that you took me.
"What is it?"
Shaking my head no, frustrated by the fact that you could already read my face that well.
"You can ask me anything. It's alright, I know you have questions."
Internally scoffing as my hands laid jittery in my lap. Of course I had questions, but you had already answered the most important one.
If I was never leaving, if you were going to keep me then eventually I would ask, why not now?
"What...what happened to your back?"
Silence filled the room and I dared to look up at your face. Stone hard, eyes a million miles away. Then one word came from your mouth.
"Lessons."
Lessons? What did that mean, someone had done that to you?
Unable to comprehend anyone else having that kind of power over you. Was it something that you did to yourself? There were people out there that enjoyed pain so much that they would harm themselves.
An image of you flinching away from my touch, eyes shut.
No, I realized, someone had hurt you.
"What do you mean?"
A deep sigh seeping past your lips, I knew that you didn't want to talk, the way that your body was tense.
You looked how I felt inside.
For just a second I felt bad for asking.
"When I was little. My father had a leather belt that he tucked away in his dresser drawer. At first he would only bring out the belt when I had done something bad, like if I didn't get my room cleaned in time or if I refused to fold the laundry. He would tell me to take off my shirt and he would hit me and make me say why."
"I hated that thing, tried to hide it once but when he found out the lesson was learned. Twenty strikes, I had to count each one allowed. That was the first time my skin bled."
If you had been looking at me you would have seen the look of horror that I knew was etched onto my face.
"After my mother passed, the lessons came more often, sometimes for no reason at all. There were times when he would hit me days in a row. Said he was preparing me for the world."
My mouth gaped open, how could a father beat his own son? Hitting him so hard that it caused actual scars?
"How old were you?"
"Young, probably six when he first used the belt. I had turned thirteen before I decided to take off, never looking back."
"Why didn't you call the police? They would have helped you, gotten you away from him."
"I did. Multiple times. They did nothing but make the situation worse so I stopped trying."
No wonder you didn't think the police were going to find me, they hadn't helped you when you needed them.
"He should have never hit you."
"He was a selfish son of a bitch who liked to drink."
Hatred in your voice, I could hear the difference in tone, so strange from how you usually were.
"Still, that's no excuse, not for something like that. I'm sorry." Knowing that I meant those words even before I said them.
Your eyes focused on me, your whole face softened. "It wasn't your fault." All the anger gone.
"I'm sorry that it happened to you, I couldn't even imagine my dad ever hitting, at all. Your parents are supposed to be the ones to care for you, to keep you safe."
A disgruntled laugh. "The only thing that man cared for was his alcohol."
"Can I see?"
"What!?"
Hiding the bit of enjoyment from completely throwing you off. Seeing your face turn to shock as your hand gripped the pillow.
"Please."
Searching my eyes, watching your Adam's apple bob as you took a gulp. Nodding your head slightly after a few minutes had passed.
"You're sure?"
Was I?
Nodding my head before I even had time to think over the question.
Watching as you reached behind your head grabbing on to the collar of your t-shirt before pulling the whole thing off over your head in one swift move revealing dark smooth skin that dipped in with each ab that you had.
Your chest expanded as you took in another breath, pecks tightening as you stretched your arms to turn your body around, giving me a full view of your back.
There were more than I thought.
Crawling closer to take a better look, noticing all the different shades and sizes.
Running my eyes along one that went between your shoulder blades all the way down to your hip. Of course that was kind of difficult because so many other scars laid on top of the line.
Some were dark but the ones that were raised were so light that the skin didn't even match anymore.
Gulping as I tried to count them, losing track of all the overlapping angry lines, knowing that there were more than a hundred at least.
The ones that were raised were jagged and thick.
Hovering my fingers over the ridges.
The center of your back was the worst, unrecognizable.
Pain. So much anger and force. How hard would that belt have to come down on you in order to split your skin open?
X's all over, newer marks covering the old. How long had all of this taken to heal? All that scar tissue, did it still hurt?
How could anyone do this, let alone to a child!?
Letting my fingers float closer too scared to touch afraid that I might hurt you. Brushing my fingertips carefully over a raised scar barely able to feel the curve before you bolted around towards me grabbing ahold of my wrist.
"I'm sorry." That was all I could say as I stared into eyes that were so filled with pain and fear, tears creeping at the corners of your eyes.
In that moment it was like I could feel exactly what you were feeling, our eyes locked together.
Rough calloused skin resting on my cheek, your thumb running across my chin right under my lips.
Frozen in place as you started to lean closer, until your lips were on mine. Soft but firm as my lips parted slightly against yours, naturally.
In that second everything was gone. The pain, the sense of loss, there was nothing but the coursing heat that moved steadily through my body.
Too soon you pulled away resting your forehead on mine still caressing my cheek.
"Thank you." Your words coming out in one long breath.
Not sure why you had said that, still fazed by the kiss itself. My first one. Wondering why I hadn't tried to back away, head buzzing as if I was shot up with electricity.
Opening my eyes seeing that you were still holding onto my wrist. Fingers wrapping all the way around, my hand so pale compared to yours, losing all my color from the lack of sun.
Flexing my fingers, causing you to look down, immediately letting go.
White marks, ghosts of where your hand was. Weird, I honestly didn't think that you were holding me that hard. Hearing your gasp as you lifted my hand up.
"Did I hurt you?" Sounding worried as you turned my wrist over checking the other side.
"No, it's ok."
"No it's not. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I shouldn't.."
Cutting you off mid sentence because you were getting hysterical.
"You didn't hurt me."
Lifting your eyes up to mine carefully checking over my face to see if I was lying. Watching as your pupils quickly darted left to right looking at each eye one at a time until they became steady once again.
Slowly you raised my wrist up but I didn't break eye contact to see what you were doing.
Seeing you hold my hand to your face, your lips lightly pressing down against the marks on my wrist. Your eyes still on mine as you turned my wrist over your soft lips met my skin once again. 
Sitting there unmoving, skin tingling from here your lips had touched, my hand limp in yours as you trailed higher. Kissing my forearm then my elbow, gently pressing the sleeve of my shirt higher.
Breaths coming out in short spurts as my heart pounded faster in my chest and I continued to watch each time your lips made contact.
Head lifting, so close to mine, your eyes cast downwards towards my lips then back up to my eyes, silently asking. So close that I could see specs of green around your irises.
Your tone, deep and airy. "Do you want me to kiss you?"
"I.." biting my bottom lip as I looked down at yours. "I.." shrugging my shoulders, unable to think clearly with you so close.
Suddenly your lips were on mine, light at first then pressing further, tongue sliding along my lips. Without thinking my mouth opened inviting you in, our breaths matching as your hands skimmed around my lower back. 
Skin heating up, as you touched me, pulling me closer.
In that moment I was gone, no longer trapped in the room, free.
Excitement bursted through me as I placed my hands around your neck needing to touch, to feel. Fingers threading through your hair tugging at the ends causing a low groan to escape from your throat.
Smiling against your lips wanting to be closer, intoxicated by you. As if you had read my mind your hands went lower cupping my butt lifting me up onto your lap. Chills ran along my spine as your hands move higher. As if I was floating.
Then a switch clicked.
Pressing my palms onto your chest moving away from you.
What had I just done!?
Both of us were breathing heavily.
Being here was changing me and not in a way that I liked, but I had wanted your touch, I liked the way it felt.
Somehow you had brainwashed me. Though I couldn't figure out how. Sitting there silently, you didn't move, didn't speak.
You had kissed me first and I hadn't stopped you, hell I hadn't even tried to pull away. More importantly I kissed you back. Leaning next to  the bed grabbing the half empty water and chugging the rest in one gulp.
"I don't understand." Speaking aloud mainly to myself.
"Don't understand what?" Your voice was completely calm. As if what just happened was totally fine.
"This!" Shouting as I gestured towards you. "You took me away from everything that I know, from everyone that I love! You chained me like a dog!" Jerking the chain to prove my point. "You refuse to let me go and somehow I don't hate you! I should HATE you! I just wanted to go home!" Pacing in a circle as I talked.
"Wanted?"
"What!?" Irritated, as I stopped in place.
"You just said that you "wanted" to go home."
"See that's exactly what I mean, you confuse me! I don't even know how long I've been here, there's no sun, no light besides that lightbulb!" Swallowing. Thinking about how much time I must have missed. How long I haven't been to school, all the diners with my parents, the homecoming dance. Has that already happened? Did Amara go? Did my best friend have fun while I was stuck here? Were my parents ok?
Trapped here, time kept moving forward oblivious that I wasn't going with it. The world outside, still turning. All that time lost while I've been chained in this prison.
I was alive, there was still time to get out.
"What do you want?" Asking as you tried to move towards me but I shot up from the bed away from your touch. Furious that you didn't already know the answer to that question.
"To see my parents again." If I did then that would mean that I would have my life back. No longer having to live inside these four concrete walls. Able to go where I wanted when I wanted. Seeing my parents meant that I would have been saved, set free from you and back where I was supposed to be.
"Tell me about them."
Realizing then that you had no idea about my life before you. You had told me things about your parents but you knew next to nothing about me. You didn't know anything about the life you took me from. One where I was surrounded by people who loved and cared about me.
If you knew how much my parents loved me, would that help convince you to let me go?
Would you be able to understand that kind of emotion considering the trauma your own parents caused you?
You had told me that you were close with your mom.
Was that the soft spot that I needed to hit?
Though did I really want to open up to you?
If it meant getting out then yes.
Wasn't that the plan already?
"My mom." Taking a pause while I tried to figure out what to say. "She loves listening to music, the type changed with her mood. Classical, rock, country, opera, pop, hip hop, you name it and she listened to it.
Sometimes I would just be doing something random, grabbing a snack from the fridge or doing homework in the living room, a certain song would come on and she would pull me along with her. We danced to whatever genre music was playing.
Laughing the entire time because we would both look insane.
Neither of us really knew how to dance, we would step on each others toes especially when we would try to waltz to an orchestra.
Random.
I never knew when it would happen but I loved it every time, it could make me smile even when I wasn't in the best of moods."
Smiling as I remembered spinning in my mom's arms.
"She was always spontaneous just like her art, you could never guess what she would do next.
My dad loved that about her. Every time he would come home the first thing that he would do was kiss her.
He always worked hard to provide for us. Coming home after a long day no matter how tired he was, he would spend time with us.
Even if it was as little as asking how our days went.
On the days he didn't come home till late when we were already asleep he would come in and kiss my head as he whispered 'goodnight kiddo'.
There were times when I would wait up for him pretending that I was asleep just so I could tell him goodnight too.
They were always there for me, always making sure that I had what I needed, always."
Tears cascading down my puffy cheeks.
"Now I'm not there anymore. I'm not there to hear my dad's awful jokes or to hear my mom's laughter. I'm not there for dinner so we can talk to each other, I... I don't even remember what they sound like. I..."
It was hard to breathe, feeling as if an elephant had plopped down onto my chest compressing my lungs. Dark edges around the corners of my eyes like I was looking through a camera lens. Stumbling as I tried to take a step, unable to hold my balance and I felt myself falling to the ground.
"Hey." You were there, in front of me holding my chin up.
I wasn't home.
"Hey."
The world felt like an earthquake.
Hearing mumbling words, everything seemed to speed up around me as the room began to spin.
Couldn't breathe.
Reaching up, clawing at my throat as my fingers wrapped around the metal.
Get off!
Something warm covering my hands keeping them in place.
"Your mom."
Mom, where was she?
Help me, I can't breathe. Pulse rising.
"What kind of art!?"
Words so loud in my ear, frantic.
Art. What? I was so confused.
"You said your mom did art right?"
Nodding my head. My mom loved her art.
"What kind!?" The words yelling, worried.
My throat was tight, chest burning from the lack of oxygen.
"What kind?" The words were softer this time, begging for the answer.
"She painted."
Everything around me turned to a blur and not form my tears, feeling lightheaded as my breaths came out in even shorter gasps.
"Painted what!? Your voice again, so low I could hardly focus on them, all the questions screaming inside of my head.
Did they wake up in the mornings expecting me to be there?
Would they wake up and forget that I was gone like I did sometimes when I would wake up expecting to see my room?
My heartbeat speeding up pulsing so hard that it hurt.
"What did she paint!?" Shoulders shaking, bringing my attention back.
"Color mainly, abstract art."
I loved watching her work, it was as if she was in her own world.
"Sometimes she would move to the music, splattering color across the canvas."
As I kept on talking my breaths started to even out the beating in my eardrums dulled down and you came back into focus.
"There you are." A worried and relieved smile on your face.
"What was that?" Ignoring the fact that I was laying in your lap.
"You were overwhelmed, a panic attack. Here, drink this."
Slowly I worked my way up feeling your hands helping me along the way.
Fingers shaking, unable to get a grip as I tried but failed to unscrew the bottle.
"Here let me."
Taking the bottle gently from my grip, twisting the lid off easily before holding the bottle up to my lips for me to drink.
After a second of wanting to grab the bottle away from you I tilted my head back and let the liquid pour down my tight throat.
Pushing away from the bottle as I coughed loudly. Choking on some of the water that hadn't fully gone down.
When I could actually breathe in without tripping over the air I looked over to see that you were waiting patiently, tipping the bottle towards me but I shook my head no.
Watching as you twisted the cap back on, setting the drink on the floor beside us as your hand resting on my knee rubbing in slow circles.
Such a simple caring movement.
"I'm tired." My tone was weak. All I wanted was for you to disappear.
"Ok. Do you want me to help you back into bed?"
Again I shook my head no, not trusting my voice.
"Get some sleep, ok."
Your touch, gone, listening as you walked up the steps waiting for the door to close completely before I screamed.