Taken by fate

Chapter 15

When I woke up I was naked, remembering that I never put the shirt on yesterday, seeing that my towel was now at the end of the bed hanging off the edge.
Quickly I scanned the room, letting out a breath of relief when I saw that you weren't here.
Looking once more trying to find where the shirt had gone, leaning over the side picking the bundled bunch off the floor.
Rolling the sleeves a few times before sliding the shirt on, making sure to move the chain out of the way so that I wouldn't get caught more.
Noticing small red blotches on my chest, mainly my boobs. The places where you had kissed me.
Running my hands over them, they weren't sore. If I hadn't seen them I wouldn't have even known that they were there.
Making sure to button the flannel shirt to the top, not wanting to see them. Reminders of what I did, what I let you do, picking up a water bottle and taking a sip.
The dream.
Why?
Falling asleep in your arms, but I had run away from you. Wanting to get back to my room where I knew I would be safe and home. Yet I ended up back here in this basement, probably because I knew that I was physically still here.
How exactly did you sneak me in here?
Apparently no one seemed suspicious or even noticed the fact that you were carrying in an unconscious girl otherwise the police would have been called.
Did you stuff my inside of something? A trash bag, box, large suitcase maybe?
Something that no one would ever think twice about when they saw you carrying the object inside.
What about the girl? Did she have time to tell anyone about you, would anyone have believed her or cared if she did?
Still knowing absolutely nothing about the other girl. Was she an addict too? Did you get tired of them and decide you wanted a different type happening to spot me at the right moment.
Wrong moment for me, wrong place wrong time. If only the bus had actually come on time for once.
Some people would call this fate.
Yeah right.
Rolling my eyes as I thought through that statement. The bus was always late and the road needed to be fixed, just a series of events that led to this happening.
Angry, so angry.
That was the one feeling I could hold onto. The one feeling that would spike the instant I started thinking about everything from the morning.
Leaving my house.
The detour sign that led you to me.
The bus driver who didn't show up in time to save me.
Walking out from under the light.
You, taking me away.
Wearing this collar.
You, touching me.
Liking your touch.
Not completely hating you.
Not seeing parents.
Missing school.
Unable to talk to Amara.
Being here in this room with nothing to do.
Not even sure if the sun was up or down.
List goes on only pissig me off more as I continue to think of more things.
Nails digging into my palm causing pain to shoot through my forearm. Swallowing another mouthful of water.
Getting up from the bed, a dull ache in my ankles as I pressed my weight onto my feet.
Bruises around both of them, purple and blue.
Twisting them, the pain was bearable. Only more proof from yesterday.
What were you going to do when you saw these marks?
Walking in a circle stopping to take another gulp of the room temperature liquid. Crossing my arms over my chest, squeezing my boobs. Pressing into you.
Stop!
Why couldn't I get you out of my head!?
Curling my hands into fists wanting to hit something, concrete. If I broke my hand would you take me to the hospital? Most likely not, you'd probably just splint my wrist and I would have to deal with the pain. Besides, when I get out of here I'm going to need both my hands.
Mattress that was soft, getting closer, punching, knuckles sinking in the cushion. Not good enough. Grabbing the pillow, bringing it down hard using all my weight, hitting the bed repeatedly.
All my anger seeped through to my hands.
Grabbing either side, threads ripping apart as feathers spilled out. Hitting the bed more until the pillow was nothing but a piece of fabric hanging loosely in my grip. Little white feathers floating through the air around me, sticking onto my shirt. Most of them spilled onto the floor, a good amount laying on the mattress.
Whacking the bed with the emptied useless, now turned pillowcase, sending feathers flying into the space around me.
Like snow.
Kicking some up form the floor watching as they slowly floated back down.
Scooping a bunch and tossing them into the air spinning as they fell laughing like a kid in wonderland.
"Well I guess that's one way to entertain yourself. Going to be needing a new pillow now."
Leaning on the railing watching me, anger seeping back into my system. Walking to the other side of the room plopping down next to the wall.
The moment no longer mine alone, tainted by you.
Why did you have to come down right now? Why not earlier then maybe I would have told you off lashing out at you instead of tearing the pillow apart.
Butter, hot, fresh wafting through the air reminding me of "popcorn."
"You have a good nose. Heating some up in the microwave right now thought maybe you might want to come upstairs, watch a movie?"
Jerking my head up. How did you do that? Know just what to do to make me feel better?
No! I was supposed to be mad at you. There was a whole list of things to be mad for, the fact that you had taken me was number one.
Taking a breath, if you had come down when I was lashing out would you still offer the movie? Instead you had found me laughing in a pile of tiny wispy feathers. Maybe that was a good thing.
"Is that a yes?"
"Only if I get to pick out the movie."
Muscles in your arms building as you leaned further over the railing, that crooked grin on your face. "That's fair."
Anger replaced with excitement as I got up from the floor walking over to you automatically pulling my hair away so that you could take the collar off. Bouncing on the balls of my feet anxious to get back upstairs.
"Hold still will ya, I can't get this off."
Freezing in place as the metal slid from my neck dropping my hair back down.
"You're covered in feathers, you know that right?" Pulling one from my hair holding it in front of me spinning the tiny wispy feather between your fingers.
"Yup."
"You know what they say that a feather from your own pillow is one of the best things to make a wish on. It already knows all of your dreams."
Cocking my head to the side studying your face. "You just made that up."
"Yup, now make a wish."
Even though I knew that wishing on the feather was bullshit, it also couldn't hurt to try. Closing my eyes playing along wishing to be home back with my parents. Hugging them tightly and never letting go.
Opening my eyes seeing your smile, so genuine and patient.
"Alright then." Hand reaching out to me just like in my dream.
"No rope this time?" Asking to avoid grabbing your hand but also because I was curious.
"Not this time." Hand still out waiting.
Recalling how I refused to hold your hand in my dream, full out running away from you only to end up trapped. At least this time the door was open.
Palm sliding over yours, interlocking our fingers together giving me a reassuring squeeze as I followed you up the stairs. Feet lifting onto each step as I slid my hand along the railing. Watching the bed get further away as I walked up to the door.
Squinting my eyelids against the brightness using my free hand to help block the light letting you guide me to the couch. Blinking several times as my body sank into the cushion.
"I'll go grab the popcorn."
Squeezing my hand before you moved away. Light no longer stinging my eyes as I watched you walk to the kitchen. Opening a cabinet, reaching to the top the bottom of your shirt lifting, showing the slightest bit of skin. Boxers peeking through the waist of your jeans. Starting to think that's all you had in your wardrobe.
Looking over your shoulder every now and then checking on me.
Digging my toes into the carpet feeling the fibers rub across the soles of my feet. So different from the smooth cool concrete downstairs, soft, fuzzy. There wasn't any carpet in my house, all hardwood floors. Easier to clean, mom would say. Though I did have a couple of rugs in my room. That could be the reason why the concrete floor never bothered me that much.
Pulling my feet up on the couch placing them to the right of me, knees bent. Up here with the better I could actually see all the different shades of the bruises. Splotches of dark purple, some blue with a hint of yellow around them. They didn't hurt to touch only when I put weight on them and still that wasn't much. Tracing around them.
Knowing the door was right there, taunting me. So were you.
If I could just talk out right now I could get help and the police would escort me back home while someone would stay back to arrest you. They would put you in a tiny cell, wearing an orange jumpsuit behind bars. Seeing the door closing on you, trapping you inside. Not the same as having this collar around your neck but you deserved to know what it felt like to be locked up. Imprisoned.
"Hey." You said softly, your hand covering mine lifting up. "Does it hurt, do you want some ice? Let me get you some ice."
Not even giving me a chance to answer before you left for the kitchen. Giant bowl of popcorn on the couch beside me.
Extra butter.
Just the way I loved. Looking through, picking out the one that was the most yellow plopping directly into my mouth. Taste buds exploding with buttery goodness, not even chewing the piece fully before shoving more into my mouth.
Ice maker loud in the silent space.
Coming around the corner with a bag of ice wrapped in a paper tower. Crouching down to the floor lightly placing the bag on top of my ankles. Freezing cold water dripped down the side, running down my skin falling onto the cushion as you held the bag in place.
"I'm sorry, this was my fault. I shouldn't have tied them so tight."
Hearing how bad you felt, seeing your eyes darting from my ankles to my eyes, words bleeding together.
"It's fine." Why was I so adamant about making sure you didn't feel bad? You should for what you did, yet watching you break down over a couple of bruises, icing them, apologizing. I found myself still talking.
"They don't hurt, they just look bad but they're fine." Moving my leg from under the bag jiggling my foot around to prove a point. "See."
"I didn't mean for it to hurt you, I just didn't want you"
"Running off?" Throat tight as I finished your sentence. "I told you I wouldn't run."
Holding your gaze as you looked me over, knowing that if I looked away you would know that I was lying.
"I realized that when I went to untie the rope, the knots had already been undone. At first I thought that you had untied them that's why I took a second but when I looked at you I knew that you hadn't. You didn't even know that they had come undone, because you didn't try."
Had already been undone. Meaning that I could have just un wound the rope while you were downstairs. That I could have locked you down here and hightailed my way out the door running away as fast as I could. Why hadn't I even attempted to untie the rope?
Too caught up in what just happened. Comfy sitting on the couch thinking that I couldn't move my legs at all. Happily reaching out to you when you came back upstairs to get me, snuggling in your arms.
"What movie did you have in mind?"
At this point I didn't care. If I had just untied the ropes I wouldn't be here right now.
Would I?
Or would you have come upstairs and noticed that I was gone, going after me, stopping me before I even had the chance to alert anyone of my presence. Carrying me back into the house down the stairs locking the collar around my neck for good. How would you act towards me then, after I tried to run off?
Would you still be sympathetic and caring or would you yell at me? Punish me for running away? What would you do, bind me to the bed as well making me completely helpless? Making it to where I had to depend solely on you to take care of me. Feed me, bathe me, untie me only so I could use the toilet.
That thought terrified me more than anything. A prisoner in my own body, unable to move freely. You could do anything to me.
Warmth on my thigh. "Are you ok?"
"Just thinking about which movie to watch." Glad that my head was turned away hoping that you didn't hear the hiccup in my voice.
"Iron man."
"Iron man it is."
Tv powering on. Smart tv like the one I had at home which meant.
Looking down at the bottom right.
Heart stopped, teeth clenched.
No way, no way, no way.
Clear as day 4/15/2018.
Not possible, I haven't been here that long.
"I need to use the restroom." Making sure not to knock the bowl over as I got up trying to appear as calm as possible. You started to stand too.
"Could I just go by myself? I'll be right back, I just need to pee." Hoping that you wouldn't follow me, I did not want to be near you right now.
"Ok."
Heading down the hall going through the first door flipping the lights on. Twisting the knobs on the sink letting the sound of running water fill the silence.
Cupping some in the palm of my hand splashing the liquid onto my face.
No way, not possible.
Towels above the toilet, no medicine cabinet. What bathroom didn't have a medicine cabinet? Opening the two doors under the counter seeing toilet paper and a plunger. Nothing that I could use.
Falling back onto the floor head laying on the wall.
Monday. 3/11/18. That was the day that you grabbed me. An entire month that I've been here. A whole month and nobody has come to save me. What were my parents thinking? That I was dead, is that what the police believed happened? No longer looking for me at all, wasn't there evidence? Could they actually close a case without a body?
Flushing the toilet like I had actually used it.
Only way for me to get out was to continue to gain your trust. Make it look like I didn't want to leave, then when you weren't around, run.
Cool water running down my head rubbing at my cheeks to get rid of the tear stains. Drying off with a washcloth before I took a deep breath and headed back out.
Picking up the bowl sitting down almost right next to you as I placed the popcorn in my lap.
"Ready." Smile on my face as I dug in for another handful, butter covering my fingers as you pressed play. Acting as normal as possible even when thinking about eating made me gag.
Watching as Tony Stark kept surpassing every obstacle. Like me he had been kidnapped too but he was smart enough to build a machine to help him escape. How he carried on after he got back having a new perspective on life after everything that he went through.
He wasn't the same.
If only he could fly through the screen and save me. Fly me away from here all the way home.
Not once during the movie had you tried to scoot closer, not even reaching for a bit of popcorn. Not moving even as the ending credits scrolled along the screen.
"I'm thirsty, could I get some water?"
"Sure."
Digging the kernel stuck between my teeth out with my nail, flicking the stupid thing back into the still full bowl.
"Here, it's cold, grabbed it from the fridge."
"Thanks."
Unscrewing the cap, taking a sip. Weird how water tasted so different depending on the temperature.
Taking a seat back down next to me keeping the same amount of distance as before. Fingers reaching towards a strand of my hair that was on the cushion behind me twirling the ends around your fingers.
"You saw the date didn't you?"
Shoulder slumping as I fidgeted with the end of my shirt.
"Soon enough that number won't even bother you anymore."
Doubtful.
"It just kinda took me by surprise."
"I don't want you worrying about that. It's one of the main reasons I didn't give you a clock."
Sipping water.
"It's ok to be sad. I was sad too, when I lost my mother, but time heals and after a while the pain doesn't hurt as much."
"But if you had a choice to heal your mother to make it to where she didn't die wouldn't you have done that to be with her?"
Your eyes immediately went distant contemplating a question that I was expecting a quick answer to.
"No, I wouldn't bring her back to the pain. She was trying to get away, to escape everything and she finally did."
"What if your father wasn't in the picture, would you then?"
"No."
But with your father gone so would the pain too, right? He wouldn't be there to abuse either one of you."
"My mom told lots of stories but in every one she told me how horrible the world was and how everything was so hard. I think that her death was the happiest day of her life."
"You can't possibly believe that." Dumbfounded that those words had even come from your mouth.
"I do. That's what she had wanted for the longest. Said her whole life was a mistake, just one right after the other. The only thing that wasn't she said was having me though she did make it clear that it was a mistake to keep me."
"Your mother said that to you?" Shock in my voice.
"Said she wanted a better life for me, not the one that I got. While I was on my own I got to see what she meant. The stories she told me I saw for myself first hand on the streets. Some even helped me stay alive."
"Not everything is bad." My life wasn't bad, I had my best friend as well as other friends, parents who loved me and would do anything for me, I had good grades and so many memories filled with laughter.
"True but there is still bad out there."
"But that doesn't cancel out all of the good things in the world. There are so many things that happen and if you're only looking for the bad that's all you'll ever find. You will miss everything that is good if you don't choose to see them."
"I see you."
Feeling my face flush, looking down to my lap hating that you could make me feel like this.
"Tell me about the other girl."
Sighing. "Alright." Pausing. "I knew her from the streets. She was always there running away from every foster home they placed her in. Getting the shittiest ones because she was older. Not many people want to house teenagers who are in the system.
If she wasn't housed with alcoholics and druggies then she was with someone who would rape and beat her."
You were talking so naturally like that was how it always happened. Was the system that broken, I had no idea.
"I remember this one time I ran into her and she was so hungry. The place she had been had her locked in a closet for days with no food. She was terrified.
At the time I was on the streets too but I would look out for her, made sure she had food and shelter. We would talk for hours on end. There were times that she would just cry in my arms and ask why she couldn't have just one decent place telling me all the horrible things her foster parents would do.
When I finally got this place I brought her here with me. I cared for her like a sister, and wanted to protect her. She was so grateful and told me from the start that she was only going to stay until she was 18 when she would finally be free from the foster care system. I told her she could stay as long as she wanted.
I liked having her around, knowing that she was safe. In a way she kind of reminded me of my mother the way she would tell stories. Her face lighting up as she talked, had the same blonde hair as her too. I guess that's why I thought of her more like a sister than anything.
One time," stopping to laugh a bit before you continued. "One time I had come home and the house smelled horrible. Turns out she left a pot of boiling water on the stove and forgot about it. That thing was bone dry when I got home.
She couldn't cook, but oh did she try."
You paused, staring over into the kitchen reliving the memory I suppose. Then the corners of your smile turned down.
"One day I came home and she was gone. No note, no goodbye, nothing. I waited to hear from her to know if she was ok and after two months I got an unsigned postcard with a doodle on the back. That's how I knew she was fine."
"How did you know it was from her if there was no name?"
"On the front was a picture of a beach. One thing she always talked about was going to live by the ocean, learn how to surf, get a job in a little shack. That was her dream."
"How long since you've heard from her?"
"Five years."
So you hadn't kidnapped the first girl she had come here willingly, leaning on her own account. You helped her, gave her shelter, protected her.
The second girl you tried to save. She had come with you to, on the promise of food and a shower. She had stayed for a little while though when she wanted to leave you wouldn't let her.
So what exactly drew you to me? There was absolutely no connection, nothing to tie the three of us together. Were you getting lonely and decided you wanted to take another girl? Was this purely a coincidence? Seeing me outside at my bus stop because a detour sign had you turn down my street.
Street.
Every girl had come from the street. That was the connection between us. Not looks or body or an easy grab, location was the reason. The only reason that made any sense. Picking me up from the street like garbage left on the side of the road.
Which only brought me back to the same thought process all over again.
The reason that I was here now was the combination of me being outside, the bus driver being late and the detour sign that led you to me.
If that sign hadn't been there if they hadn't needed to fix the road then you would have never known that I existed.
There was no going back, nothing that could change what happened. Nothing but what ifs that constantly cycled through my brain.
Warm pressure on my cheek, thumb nestling my cheek causing me to look back at you.
"Lost you for a second there."
"Just thinking." Leaning into your hand.
"I was too."
"About what?"
"You."
"What about me?" Was this finally it, the moment you would decide to let me go?
"That you are the most caring person that I have ever met."
Not the words that I wanted to hear but they made my cheeks flush.
"How beautiful you are even though you don't see it yourself. The way your eyes shine when you're happy. The fact that you're not afraid to ask questions." Your hand was still caressing my face, raising my hand and placing it over yours tilting my head down to hide the fact that my face probably looked like a fire truck.
"How you try to hide behind your hair, though that only makes you cuter." Lifting your free hand to slip the loose strands of my hair behind my ear.
"I love you Sarah."
An audible gasp escaped my lips as I backed away from you.
Of course you knew my name, it was probably posted all over the news. Talks about how I went missing, in the papers on the internet. It would be naive of me to think that you didn't know my name.
Hearing my name again, coming from you. The word sounded weird not used to hearing my name at all anymore.
Pushing your hand away as I stood up from the couch taking a step away as you stood too, reaching out to me.
"DON'T! Please don't touch me right now."
Loved me?
You had only known me for a month. Taken me away, kept me locked up in your basement, kissed me a couple of times, and now you say that you love me?
That wasn't love, that was just crazy. If you really loved me then you would let me walk out the front door without stopping me.
So close. Maybe I could.
Walking to the door that I was closest to, twisting the knob opening the door only to have it forcefully shut by you. Standing behind me, hand pressed on the door keeping me from even budging the stupid thing.
"You can't go outside, not yet. Please Sarah."
Storming off.
Away from the door that would lead me outside back to the basement, the room that was mine for now. Slamming the door hard behind me putting something between you and me.
Walking halfway down the stairs sitting on the middle of the step, looking down at the room that I had been living in for a whole month.
Feathers everywhere, covering the mattress and floor. A few had even found their way to the opposite side of the room.
A big mess, just like my life.
Living inside these four walls day after day.
Trapped.
Ironically I was thinking about the stories you tell about the prince saving the princess. That's how it was always written right.
Princess, helpless, trapped, until the prince comes and swoops her away to safety and they live happily ever after. Except in this case the prince stole the princess away from her beloved kingdom and whisked her away to the tower, entrapping her, forcing her to stay with him forever.
A sick and twisted fairy tale in reverse.
Plunging my head onto my knees covering my head with my arms blocking all the light from my sight.
Body trembling, as your words played over in my head.