Page 44 of Brutal Captivity

This amount of pain should draw blood, right? Some evidence of my turmoil, but the water is clear. No fog. No mud. It’s clean, and I don't understand how. It should be dirty at the very least. It should be brown as it washes my sins away.

My knees buckle, and I sink down to the shower floor. I curl in on myself, squeezing my knees close, as tightly as my body will allow. I need to protect myself from this turmoil. Protect my vital organs, like I would in a fight, but my opponent isn’t corporeal. No. My opponent is the ghosts of my past, and the blows are landing.

The water is cold now, the temperature feeling frigid against my overheated and raw skin. I don’t react, though, my mind replaying the memories over and over in my head, not being able to decide on which era of my life it wants me to focus on.

The only prevalent thought is family. The family I was born with and the one I made, and how I disappointed both. I rock back and forth, my feet propelling the motion as my breaths come out in quick, short huffs. The walls… they’re closing in.

twenty

“Leo. Please.”- Callisto

Friday Night…

IalmostfollowLeo'sretreating figure, but I stop myself. I tell myself I don’t care that Leo is clearly upset. I tell myself I didn’t see the haunted look in his eyes as if he had seen a ghost.

There’s clearly more to the story than he’s telling me, but that always seems to be the case with Leo. I can’t deny that he revealed more of himself during our conversation than he ever has. I am beginning to understand him and the life he chose. Well, that’s the issue. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.

My heart breaks when I think about a young, scared Leo being cast out of his own home by his parents. I cannot even begin to imagine. My parents may not have always been the most loving or present, but they still provided me with basic life necessities.

I had a roof over my head. There was always food on the table, and they provided me with anything I could ever want. It makes me realize that maybe Leo and I aren’t so different, after all. He was homeless, literally, while I have always felt somewhat homeless– like I don’t have a place where I belong. Those two things are definitely not the same thing, but it helps me bridge the gap between us.

I am exhausted after the events of the day. This single day has stretched into weeks. I’ve belonged to this world my entire life, even if the calendar claims it’s only been mere days. I have experienced the entire range of emotions today, and it has left me physically and mentally drained.

I rub my eyes, the absence of my rings feeling foreign. I haven't worn them that much lately, and it’s strange. They had become a part of me, a part of my persona. This week has stripped me of all my material possessions and forced me to look at myself without anything obscuring my view. Bare. Raw. In my purest form, and it scares me.

I sigh as I get up from the table. I’m going to go to bed. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I hope it may be my freedom. It’s strange, though. The longer I’m here, the less I think about being free. At least I’m no longer lonely.I have spent more time around people in the last few days than I have in the last few months combined.

I spent the entire day getting to know Nico. I met Kiki and Ollie. I talked to Leo for hours, finally getting a glimpse of who he really is, the person he buries deep inside. I don't know why, but I don't want to go back to my old life. I was surrounded by meaningless objects there. I wasn’t important to anyone, and now I am. I exist in this world, and I’m not sure I can easily let that go.

When I make it to the landing at the top of the stairs, Leo's bedroom door is open. As I get closer, the steady rush of running water echoes from the shower. I peer into the room, my curiosity tamping down my guilt for invading Leo's privacy.

I tell myself that I will leave as soon as the water shuts off, not a moment later. I know I was in the room earlier, but I was too focused on Leo to notice any real details. I don't know what I even expect to find, but I can’t stop myself from creeping in, the lamp on the nightstand casting a dim light over the room. It’s the very same nightstand that has an empty safe hidden underneath.

I snoop around, not finding anything of relevance until I open the other nightstand drawer. Inside I find a leather bound book. It’s too large to be a journal. No. This looks like it may hold pictures or memories, akin to a scrapbook.

To ensure I’m alone, I glance around the room, finding no one. The sound of running water coming from the bathroom tells me Leo is still in the shower. I slowly pull the book from its resting spot. It is much heavier than I expect, the leather soft against my fingertips. I tell myself that if it is a journal, I will not read it. I will close it and place it back in the drawer.

I sit it down on the bed, trying to be quiet even though the shower is still running. I ignore the guilt rising in my gut, telling me to put it back. My curiosity wins out. I run a finger over the nondescript cover, then my full hand, the texture of the leather cool under the skin of my palm.

With shaking fingers I pinch the cover, holding my breath as I open it. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe an alarm to sound or anthrax powder to be shot in my face. Perhaps a snake or a spider to jump out at me, but none of that happens. Inside I find newspaper articles.

As I flip through, every single page centers on the exact same person. Violet Sullivan. Only a few have pictures, but she looks strangely familiar. She is a pretty girl with long hair. Her hair and eyes look to be on the lighter side. Most of the articles are about her accomplishments, the honors roll, volunteer work, awards, and her graduation announcement.

It then dawns on me. This is Leo’s sister. Sullivan is his last name, and that’s why they called him Sully. This is the sister he said he hadn’t seen for over ten years. That’s why she looks familiar to me. She looks like him. Even in the black and white, pixelated images, I can tell they have the same eyes. My heart stutters in my chest, and my eyes burn with tears. Leo has kept track of his sister’s accomplishments over the years, and I have no idea what to do with this information. It touches my heart, and I don't quite understand why.

My hand traces over the text of one particular article, talking about an award Violet received for academic excellence. I don't understand why someone as bright as this girl in the photos would be working as a maid for someone as disgusting as De Luca. She should be in college, earning a degree. It’s strange to me, seeing the girl Leo had been talking about minutes prior.

A sudden jolt of anger shoots through my system, freezing my limbs. How could someone hurt such an innocent girl? How could someone take advantage of her and force himself on her? How could someone like that work with my father? Perhaps my father doesn't know, but I have the sudden desire to tell him. To ruin De Luca’s life, but then I remember. De Luca is dead, his life taken by Leo's hand. And I am left stuck between what's right and wrong.

I jump at the abrupt clatter of something hitting a wall that comes from Leo's bathroom. It’s loud, ringing in my ears, as if something was flung against a hard surface. My heart is in my throat, beating rapidly, threatening to choke me. With shaky limbs, I quickly put the scrapbook back where I found it, keeping a wary eye on the door, waiting for it to open any minute. It doesn’t; I can still hear the water running in the shower behind it.

Leo has been in there for a while. Should I be worried? He could have slipped and fallen, explaining the loud noise that scared the living crap out of me. Concern shoots through my shaking body at that thought. I shouldn’t be concerned though, should I? Shouldn't I be happy that my captor could be lying and bleeding on the bathroom floor? I’m not, though. In fact, I’m the opposite of happy. As anxiety churns in my gut, I make my way toward the door on unsteady limbs.

Once I reach it, I press my ear against the cool surface, still hearing nothing but the distinct sound of water running. Anticipation grips me as I hold my breath, my entire body freezing, pressing my ear more firmly against the door.

I concentrate, listening as closely as I can. Then, the unmistakable sound of gasping breath cuts through the sound of water pounding against the shower wall. Fear grips me, air leaving my lungs completely, as I try to listen harder.I know that’s impossible, but I have to try. I have to know what is going on beyond that door.

I don't know what to do. Should I leave? Should I go in and check on him? It’s a moral dilemma, and I always felt like I was good at those. Right now, though, I’m completely unsure of myself. All I can see is Leo bleeding out from a head injury. I tell myself that I don't care that Leo killed someone today, and he isn’t deserving of my concern.