Cezar didn't waste any time responding with no apathy. “It's obvious that it's your fault. I don't know why you won't man up and take your punishment.”
Cezar. Yes. I know him. He’s…
Ion’s exasperated voice exploded. “Because you want to kill me as punishment! How the fuck is that fair? Also, why the fuck was she in here unattended, huh?! I heard the shower on but remembered that Nicu said he would be out early, and I went to investigate only to find her snooping around.”
Ion.My face tightened into a scowl at the thought of his name.The faint edges of reality started to blur around the vision in front of me.Everything is so mixed and blurred. Time and space weren't making sense. Why were Cezar and Ion here? Why did it seem they couldn't see the man who had been my childhood nightmare? Biting the inside of my lip, I tried to think it all through when a pulsing, fiery sensation danced behind my eyes, searing and unyielding.
Clutching my head, I heard voices in the background, trying to hear them when I knew they were talking about me, but the relentless throbbing echoing through my skull was making it hard to hear anything else.
“Leave.”
That one chilling, harsh word sliced through the chaos of my mind, making just enough room for reality to slither into my consciousness. I'm in their house, my kidnappers, not the house my ten-year-old mind tried to bury from my memory.
“She is my response-”
“No. My room, my say.”Nicu. He was the only man I knew whose spoken words were so cold and forceful they were like commands from death himself. Unbreakable, even with his equally dangerous brothers.
A scuffle sounded, and a couple of grunts came out when Nicu whispered, “Trust me, brother.”
The room went quiet; the temptation to peek out and see what was happening clawed at my conscious, but my body refused to move.
Nicu's tone changed as if he was trying to calm the beast before it went on a rampage. “Just stay outside the door, and I'll call you in when she's ready.”
Cezar’s voice went low, more menacing than I've ever heard. “Nan and Cal are telling me you're a lost cause, not to let you near our salvation,” he paused before he spat out with venom, “but M says to let you. That you know what you're doing. Let's hope she's right.”
I didn't know what that meant, but I heard two steps leave and the door closed. My pulse jackhammered as I heard slow, measured steps coming my way. My fingers dug into my arms, gripping so tight my muscles groaned in protest. I braced myself on instinct, trying to make myself so heavy that dragging me out was more hassle than worth it.
Tracking those fancy black leather dress shoes like a hawk, I watched them move around the room, stopping beside the bed before me and sitting down.
“Are you hurt?”
That firm yet gentle question rocked me to my core. When was the last time someone asked me that? The vision of a cop came up, flashing blue and red lights streaming across his face. His lips moved as he asked the same question gently yet firmly.
A sob worked its way out, “No.”
His heavy sigh made me want to grow smaller. It was clear to me now that I had an episode from when my mom and I were living with Mark, the man she had a six-month relationship with. The man who had been an abusive prick who hit her in front of me, and when that was no longer enough, he started to come for me.
They must all think I'm so pathetic. They didn't know they kidnapped someone with repressed trauma.
“Who hit you?”
Resting my chin on my knees, I knew I should figure out how to make him connect with and care for me. He was one of my kidnappers, after all, but I wasn't in the right headspace to figure it out. “Ion didn't hit me,” I admitted with a sigh. “He just grabbed my neck and said something similar to someone in my past.” Thinking back to that moment, my mind went dark; I remembered that smell, the candy Mark always kept on hand.
“That's not what I meant. I know it wasn't my brothers.” His voice vibrated with something I couldn't quite put my finger on…anger? Resentment? Annoyance? Whatever it was surprised me.
Why would he care in the least? I was just some woman his brother brought home one day. The daughter of the woman he was trying to find. Maybe that was the reason he was keeping me around. He thinks I know whatever it was he wanted from my mom. Sucks for him, though. Unless he wanted to know a ritual for protection or the logistics of proper communication with nature, he’s all out of luck. My mom never talked about her past. Always told me that talking about evil brought it to your door, and she tried very hard to hide from its all-seeing eye.
“Who?”
His voice was so close I felt the vibrations press deep into my skin, rolling further like distant thunder. My gaze slammed into his, like velvet shadows of nightfall, ready to consume me immediately. My whole body went rigid, fear skittering on the outskirts of my mind, but something in my heart and soul wasn't afraid of this deadly and dangerous man.
Even crouching down so far to be eye to eye with me underneath his desk, he gave off the aura of authority and power. Like nothing could touch him if he so wished it. Having his steady, full gaze on me felt like I was laid bare before him, and while it was embarrassing, I didn’t hate it. Man, was I fucked up. Nothing that I felt about these three men made any sense to me.
“Oh…,” Now that he was in front of me, I tucked back my hair, trying to look less animalistic. “A man named Mark. He… dated my mom, and when he got bored with her…” I left the rest off, knowing he could connect the dots.
His face didn't change; not a single twitch or movement of his body indicated how he felt, but his eyes spoke a different story. Those inky orbs swirled like violent molten tar, threatening to spill out immediately and demolish everything you are in this world.
He looked away like he was ready to bolt out of this room at any second. “Where is he now?”
