Time has no meaning in my room. Not a sliver of light, just a dark space beneath the floorboards to keep me hidden away from a cruel world, from monsters that would never let go once they dug their claws into me.
A square of light suddenly floods the space, temporarily blinding. “There you are,” a velvety baritone purrs.
My skin prickles with restless energy as electricity visibly dances across my palms, crawling up my arms. I may not have many choices in my fate, but I can choose to face it head on. The horror stories of what will happen if I let anyone find me have been drilled into my head since before I could even walk. It might be an effort in futility, but at least I’ll be able to console myself with the knowledge that I tried to escape.
“Aren’t princesses supposed to be kept in a tower? This is disgraceful,” he growls, something about the indignant sound giving me pause.
“Says the man that killed my parents.”
“Now that I see the conditions they were keeping you in, I’d do it again, too, but drag it out a hell of a lot longer,” he replies without an ounce of remorse, and the familiar voice registers.
“I know you. ...Malcolm, right?”
Remaining in his crouched perch at the top of the hatch, he gives me a beaming smile. “That’s right, darling. What do you say we get you out of this hellhole and somewhere safe before the assholes that’ve been waiting to take a bite out of you come sniffing around, hmm?”
He stretches out his hand, waiting patiently, and I weigh my options. Which are... non-existent. If I stay here, then when any of the men my parents were in negotiations with return and find them dead, it’ll be a free for all. I’ve met plenty of them over the past weeks, and all have been cruel, hardened men with a dark glint in their eyes that made my stomach twist, or looked like they were assessing a piece of livestock to purchase. My parents wrote off Malcolm as easily as they disregarded every word out of my mouth, yet he single-handedly killed them all, and is here talkingtome instead ofatme.
With a deep breath, the electricity fizzles out and I use my sheet as a makeshift bag for my meager belongings, passing it over on the way up the ladder, and take Malcolm’s waiting hand.
Jolting awake, my heart lodges in my throat, breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. Ice takes possession of my body, freezing me inside and out, and I can’t stop shaking.
“Y-you fell asleep-p in the bath you i-idiot-t.” My teeth won’t stop chattering, but I need to get out of my head and as far away from my traitorous thoughts as possible for a while.
Goosebumps cover my flesh from head to toe, and my fingers are shriveled prunes that are trembling too hard to grip the edge of the tub. On the third try, I finally trust that I won’t slip, pushing myself up and releasing the drain plug on the way out. A violent shiver wracks my body and I nearly wipe out on the slick floor, fumbling for the oversized towel hanging on the wall hook. Logically, I should get my ass right back in and take a hot shower, but with thoughts of Malcolm tainting the tub, I don’t want to step foot in it right now.
I’m already drowning in shitty memories, I don’t need to actually drown in the throes of a panic attack.
Stumbling into the attached bedroom, I yank open drawers and grab whatever’s sitting on top. The pajama pants are ones Kodiak bought me, but the hoodie is one he slipped into my drawer, several sizes too big and carrying his metallic scent of iron and blood. Tugging it over my head, it hangs halfway down my thighs and swallows my hands. The comfort that stems from being covered up is instantaneous, and I can finally draw in a full breath.
“It was s-still the best choice back then.” Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, letting Kodi’s familiar scent erase the stale air and stagnant water stench clinging to the fringes of the bitter memory. “If I’d have told him to fuck off, he’d have taken me anyway. Or if by some miracle he had left, someone else would have grabbed me when they came to see my parents in the morning. I was damned one way or another, but at least I didn’t spend a year getting gang raped by one of the legions I was almost sold to. A little torture isn’t so bad in comparison.”
Nails biting into my palms, I force my eyes open, but the confines of the simplistic room threaten to drag me back into the pit I just managed to claw my way out of. Without any real destination in mind, I walk out of my borrowed room, wandering around my temporary cage and kicking myself for the melodramatic thoughts. I can leave whenever I want; I honestly believe that now, even if they’d follow me. But it’d be stupid to go alone and put myself in danger just because I’m feeling antsy. I have no interest in being at Malcolm’s mercy after he’s had nearly a decade to come up with new ideas of how to keep me from escaping again, and now I hold two additional lives in my hands.
A glutton for punishment, I wind up in the kitchen, staring at the closed door to the pantry like the boogeyman is waiting for me on the other side. I’m not sure how long I stand there before I lift a trembling hand to open it.
“You’re twenty-seven fucking years old, Amara,” I mutter, concentrating on keeping my breathing steady. “Too old to be scared of the snack closet.”
Iron grip on the handle, I use it as a tether to ensure that no shadows will suck me down between the cracks in the floorboards, but there aren’t any. The bottom of their pantry is the same white tile as the kitchen, tiny silver streaks marbled throughout each square. It hypnotically guides the eye on a never-ending path that I can’t seem to escape from, no matter how many twists and turns I attempt.
“Amara?” Raiden’s hand on my shoulder snaps me out of it, and I release the doorknob with a yelp. The microwave on the counter surges, the small door bursting off of its hinges, and smoke bellows out in earnest.
“Shit,” he curses, jogging over, and I watch in fascination as he inhales the smoke alongside the embers flickering within. Coughing into his arm, he turns to me, concern plain as day on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’d called your name a few times, but you didn’t respond.”
“Yeah, sorry, I-” my excuse shrivels and dies on the tip of my tongue, leaving my words as aimlessly lost as I am. “I’m having a rough night.”
He cocks his head, studying me with predatory grace. “After earlier events, that’s to be expected.” Nostrils flaring, his jaw flexes. “Doesn’t explain why your lips are blue, though.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t outside gallivanting alone or anything. I fell asleep in the bathtub, is all.”
Stalking closer, he gives me ample opportunity to pull away before he brushes his bare knuckles down my cheek with a feather-light touch. “Gods, Amara, you’re freezing. Why didn’t you take a hot shower after you woke up?”
My voice is small even to my ears, and I hate it. “I didn’t want to stay in there any longer.”
Lips pressing into a thin line, he doesn’t push for an explanation. By the knowing look in his eye, there’s no reason to. He’s already read me like an open book, my countless issues unabashedly on display for these men to dissect to their ancient hearts’ content. He opens his arms in a silent invitation, putting the option out there for me, but doesn’t pressure one way or another; he never does. Raiden takes everything in stride with an endless amount of patience that’s mildly annoying when I’m currently an emotional mess.
There’s really no reason to hold back anymore.
Of course there is. Malcolm was sweet at first, too.
