I kept going for hours, undeterred, desperate for a way out of the apartment... or this world.
At some point Anton tried coaxing me through the nanny cam, a string of meaningless promises as he begged me to stop and be good. I muted the device, letting my madness consume me.
By the time he came home, I was exhausted, and the loft was wrecked.He stepped inside with his usual unhurried grace, eyes sweeping over the chaos before settling on me. I was covered in blood. Glass from the broken lamp sliced my bare feet. My arms ached, my nails were torn, and my nose bled from sheer strain.
He looked at me like one might look at a child who’s worn herself out in a tantrum. And then he smiled faintly, bending down to gather me up.
“I should lock you in the closet for a week, but you’ve punished your body enough.”He cradled me against him, my head dropping limply to his shoulder, his lips brushing my temple.“Look at you, petal. You’re hurt. And for what? I told you there’s no escaping.”
He carried me into the bathroom and filled the tub quickly, adjusting the water temperature just so. I sat numbly on the edge, unable to coordinate my own body, while he rolled up his sleeves, guiding me in. Every cut and split knuckle burned and Anton kept shushing me, brushing his fingers through my hair.
I hated the way I sagged against him, too exhausted to fight... I couldn’t even cry.
He sat beside the tub, dipping the washcloth in the water before he slowly worked it over my arms and shoulders.“Have you forgotten our deal, sweetie? Did you forget what will happen if you leave me? If you don’t behave?”
He pulled his phone out, tapping the screen once before pressing it into my hands, a video clip loaded and waiting. The thumbnail alone made me nauseous.
“I’m sorry,”he murmured, lips brushing my head as he massaged my scalp.“I’m so sorry, but you need to watch this, petal. You need to remember what’s at stake. You were trying to break out of here for almost seven hours, did you know that?”He tapped the screen, bringing up the runtime: five hours, forty-nine minutes.“Every minute you spent hurting yourself, I spent with your father.”
He hit play.
My father sat, slumped in a chair in a modest-looking living room, his wrists bound, face shadowed with bruises. Anton adjusted the camera, making sure Dad was perfectly framed, then moved toward him.
“My perfect girl is misbehaving today,”he said in an artificially calm voice.“She’s usually such a sweet little thing... but she’s struggling with isolation, you know? I see it in her eyes whenever I leave. She’s having a particularly rough day today. I think she forgot why she saidyesthatnight.”
He fisted my father’s hair, yanking his head. My father yelped and I flinched so hard the phone nearly slipped from my grasp.
“Let’s hope this helps her remember what’s at stake.” He sounded gentle, calm even, as he reared his elbow back.“Every minute she’s at home, trying to leave me, hurting that soft, pretty body, I’ll be here, hurting you.”His fist cut through the air, landing with a crack, and my father’s head snapped back, blood gushing from his nose.“Better hope she grows tired soon. She’s been at it for an hour already.”
The second hit came before he could recover.
“You don’t have to watch the whole thing,”he whispered in my ear, then dragged the slider to the two-hour mark.“Just bits, okay?”
Dad’s face was swollen beyond recognition, eyes shut, shirt stained with blood from his split lips and broken nose. Awhimper caught in my throat, my stomach not far off ejecting its contents.
“Shh, it’s okay,”he cooed against my ear, pressing soft kisses into my damp hair.“You’re okay.Just a little more.”He fast-forwarded another two hours, and Dad’s agonizing screams tore right through me.
I recoiled, choking, because Anton was pulling my father’s fingernails out one by one.
“Shh, sweetie. I know it’s hard. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Tears sprang to my eyes, guilt enveloping me. Another fast-forward and bones began to break. Fingers, toes.Dad convulsed in the chair, crying and fighting against his bonds.
By the time the slider landed on the final minute, my heart bruised my ribs from the inside. Anton was carving shallow wounds in Dad’s chest. Slash after slash. Not deep enough to bleed out, but enough to induce agonized screams.
Beside me, he whispered soft apologies, kissing my tears away.“Don’t make me do this again. I didn’t like knowing I’d see you cry tonight. I want you calm, smiling, pretty, and safe, okay? Please don’t misbehave again.”He pulled the phone from my hands, set it aside, and wrapped me in a fluffy towel.“I hate punishing you.”
The last of my resolve broke that night.
I had nothing but this deranged man, and so I stopped fighting. I stopped eventhinkingabout fighting.
Days bled into weeks, or maybe months. Time somehow stood still and galloped forward while I went through the motions day by day, no complaining, no misbehaving. I existed in that suspended state, losing more of myself.
It wasn’t until one rainy morning, when Anton woke me earlier than usual, that the weight of time hit me. He didn’t say a word until he’d finished feeding me strawberries. I was growing more and more nervous in the oppressive silence, but once hepushed the plate away and reached behind the couch, my nerves settled.
A huge stuffed teddy landed in my lap. Brown fur, black button eyes, a big red bow around its neck. It was soft, a perfect toy to make a child feel safe.
Something inside me rebelled... then went away when I wrapped my arms around it.
