“This is for my entertainment. Once she’s served her purpose, you can have yours.”
The motherfucker smiles as he pulls the chair back, taking the seat I was in. “Of course, I’ll close the bids until you’re ready.” He doesn’t acknowledge Lennox as he brings up the screens full of his clients. There, in bright green letters, is my inmate number above a description of my wife. He’s been profiting off our torment for years, interchanging us while we suffer. I bite my tongue, forcing my body to move now that I know his fear. He’s not untouchable.
First, I want to dance with my wife because I have a suspicion that whoever I am once this is all over won’t be someone who can appreciate normal shit.
49
DELILAH
Kane is an asshole. He locked me in the bathroom so I can’t get any clean clothes, forcing me to shake as much hair off my hoodie as possible before dragging it over my head. I’ve never been a silver lining person, but I can admit not having to contend with my wet hair clinging to my skin is nice. My reflection takes that small sliver away as I wipe the condensation from the mirror.
I look fucked.
My face is weird without my hair framing it. There’s fluff stuck to the small, sharp strands poking out of my scalp. My head is a blonde fucking tennis ball.
The hot water helped ease some of the aches in my muscles. It still hurts to stand so I wrap a towel around my hips then sit with my back to the vanity before I pull my hood up, tying the strings in a bow at my chin.
I laugh so I don’t cry. Everyone will be able to see I’m weird as fuck now. They won’t walk past the bald girl without staring. It will be easier for Helene to find us too.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Kane says through the bathroom door before he moves whatever is blocking it. “Are you ready for that steak now?”
I know I look ridiculous, but he doesn’t laugh at me as he opens the door, stepping into the bathroom without immediately closing it behind him. My body protests moving before I even attempt to stand, so I sit as he walks over to me. Lowering to his haunches, he lifts me into his arms then carries me out of the bathroom like he knows how much pain I’m in.
We enter a large kitchen with a large wooden dining table. There’s a foam ice box in the middle of the table as Kane sits in front of it with me on his thigh. I don’t know how to act now that the threat of Helene isn’t there, so I lay my head on his shoulder, trying to remember how to function like a normal person.
Are we supposed to make small talk? Unless I blurt out,“So your grandmother kind of kidnapped me and the uncle you never knew existed would order my father to rape me.”I don’t think that will be conducive to the relaxing atmosphere I’ve found.
No, silence is better. It allows me to soak up his warmth as he kisses my temple with his arms wrapped around me.
The cabin ispitch-black when I wake up in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a perfect gallery to see the sky. The stars are bigger than I’ve ever seen before. So is the moon. All of it distracts me from the body I’m held against until Kane whispers, “I didn’t know when you’d wake up.”
We were in the kitchen when I fell asleep but he’s still holding me as he reclines in the armchair facing the window. The towel I’d turned into a skirt is folded on the floor and theblanket over me is the softest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of having against my skin.
“Have you been holding me all this time?” I ask without looking away from the sky.
“I’ve missed you.” He kisses my crown, whispering even lower, “I’ve been alone for so long, don’t leave me.”
Rather than get into an argument, we silently watch the stars, waiting for the sun to rise on a new day. The snow outside the cabin is undisturbed apart from one set of boot prints leading into the trees then the same imprint coming back, and a small rectangle like someone has dug a few inches out of it.
He avoids looking at that patch, his teeth grinding when I do. He delicately holds my jaw to turn my head back to the stars. “Stay like this or I’ll tie you to the table so I can eat instead of feed you.”
“What are you going to feed me? Snow?”
“If that’s what you want. I’ll make you a snow cone with my cum drizzled over it,” he offers gently as though he’s actually contemplated it.
“Do you know what I miss?” I look up as the glare of the rising sun hits the glass, turning it black as it activates the privacy film. “Honey toast. Your mom would always make it on Saturdays.”
“You and my dad were the only ones who liked it.” He grimaces as he stands with me in his arms. “You could’ve licked a stick of butter and drank honey for the same taste.”
“No, we couldn’t. They taste different,” I argue back as he sits me on the kitchen table.
We keep arguing about something lighthearted rather than the myriad of serious topics we could discuss. He loses some of his perpetual sadness as he slides the lid off the ice box to remove eggs, bread, and bottles of water. He uncaps the bottle,placing it in front of me before pouring a sachet of orange powder into it then resealing it to shake it.
“Drink up, koukla mou.” Cupping my jaw to tilt my head back, he slowly pours it into my mouth. When I’ve drunk half of the bottle, he softly kisses my forehead. “Good girl.”
I’m struggling to keep up with his ever-changing personality as he begins cooking.
“Kane, where are we?”
