Chapter Seven
It was funny how the things that cursed you could be the same things that saved you. For three hours I’d been laid out on the ground, staring up at the flickering light and straining for any signs of hope. The escape plans that flooded my head in the first hour were gone by the ninth. There wasn’t room for anything else when the pain in my side mixed with the pain of hunger, and when I got tired of staring at a broken reflection, the only comfort was on the cool floor.
The truth whispered louder with every passing moment: No one knew I was here. As far as the world was concerned, Michael and I had never really met. The incident with Josh had me swearing up and down that I’d never spoken to the man, that I’d never felt safe in his arms, that I’d never been terrified of the obsession beneath his surface. When someone found the wreckage, all they’d think was a dying girl crawled out into the woods. No one was looking for me, and while I had hopes of picking the lock in the first fifteen minutes, that vanished in the next. My nails were too weak to pick at the screws sealing the window shut, and I didn’t think I’d ever have it in me to fight him. All these years later and I still didn’t have the strength to hurt Michael.
No. All that was left was to wait.
Wait for Michael, wait for release, wait for more pain.
The sound of shifting gravel snapped me upright— a motion that brought a yelp of pain. The quiet made everything so clear. The sound of an opening door, of another series of locks clicking into place, and then the stillness when even that fell silent. At first, I wanted to believe it was the cop but when I heard the footsteps buzzing around the kitchen, even that died. I wouldn’t breathe again until his footsteps stopped, until the man stood at his post at the end of the hall. who had returned, that a caring stranger had heard my screams.
He was waiting for me.
Silently. Like he had since the day we met.
If I hadn’t’ve been there, that sick fuck would have—
“I’m—” The ache in my throat slammed my lips shut. I’d lost my voice hours ago screaming for help, screaming for him. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I’m a freakshow, Michael. I’m not deaf.”
The quiet stung my ears. The footsteps that came next stung my heart. I didn’t need to look under the door to know he was sliding off the bolt, that he was working his way through the two locks below that. Michael squeezed into the room, food first, before closing the door behind him. His eyes would only glide over me for a second, and when he looked forward again, I wondered if he felt any guilt at all.
I saved you.
The pain in my side clawed at me as he placed the plate of food on the ground, sliding it across to me with the tap of his foot. “I can’t,” I choked. “I need meds.”
“You need to eat.”
“I don’t want food. I want this to go away.”
“You don’t need them.”
The snarl in his throat jerked my eyes off the sandwich. When he’d taken the pills the first time, I thought it was just a childish attempt to control me. To see him now, the last pillar of hope collapsed. Breath came in a tight wheeze. If I was going to get out of this, if I was going to fight, if I was going to save myself, I wouldn’t be able to do it without those pills.
I needed sleep.
I needed strength.
I needed to go home.
“I’ve already given you a daily dose.”
“Michael, please.” The murmur sent a shiver over his skin. “You said you’d help me.”
When that awful word came again, when it settled into his lungs, I watched Michael change into something else. He was becoming that thing I saw covered in blood, the one I saw again in the bathroom. His muscles tensed and through gritted teeth, he hissed out another command I’d never be able to follow.
“Get up.”
“I can’t.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
My eyes slammed shut when I noticed him move. This new kind of violence only brought sickness, but when I expected more ice, all I found was his heat. His snarl lived in my ear as he stooped to pick me up again, and my stomach twisted. It was wrong that the man who ruined my life smelled just as addictive as the one who gave me a purpose. My screech deafened us both as he dropped me on the bed, and as my gaze jerked up to him, I was reminded of the only truth that really mattered.
This thing wasn’t the Michael I knew.
The Michael I knew was awful, but at least he was kind.
IknewI had to be careful, but as he placed the sandwich in my lap, thoughts of poison were the farthest thing from my mind. If he wanted to kill me, he could have done it, right? It was only when I was already four bites in that I realized there were worse things than death— Josh had taught me that.