Captive Bride, page 7
“I like to draw. I like to read.” As soon as I say the words, I realize how small and hollow they sound.
“But no dreams of a future?”
He doesn’t seem like he’s judging me, or even has pity which is what I have felt from him since his arrival. He seems interested, and for the first time, I feel he really wants to know the person I am.
Christopher is easy to read. I think he believes he’s not, but his eyes and the way he shifts his jaw reveals all. I’ve seen his rage, his sadness, his fear, and his acceptance. I’ve also seen how he views me. He doesn’t hate me like he hates Papa Rich, but he’s sad for me. His heart breaks for me. I see it all. I feel it all. But today… right now… I feel a different emotion from him.
Curiosity.
He’s trying to figure me out. He’s trying to understand how I think and what I feel. He wants to know. Not just because of escape possibilities, but for something more.
I can feel it. Christopher is trying to see me as I have been trying to see him.
I shake my head and focus on the ground before me. “I wake up each day and live the now. Dreams can also be nightmares, so I avoid both.”
11
Christopher
Five days.
Five fucking days.
How long am I going to be expected to live in a cellar, chained to a wall? This can’t be my life now. This can’t be my normal, and yet, I’m starting to realize that my only chance of escape rests with a psychopath and his terrified daughter.
I’m fucked.
I might as well be dead.
Oh yeah… in the eyes of my family and friends, I am dead.
“Good morning,” Ember says as she walks into the cellar with a breakfast tray full of eggs, bacon and toast. Her cat is close behind her feet, and I can see such happiness in her eyes. A stark contrast to my despair.
I can’t even bring myself to say anything to her or even bother to get off my pile of blankets I sleep on. Why bother?
She places the tray next to me on the floor and walks over to the small window across the room and looks up. “It’s snowing.”
Part of me wants to strangle the smile right off her face.
Great… snow. Snow means the tourists will soon stop arriving and any chance of being heard, being seen, or being rescued will be gone forever. Snow suffocates hope.
“Not a big storm yet,” she continues. “Papa Rich can’t close Hallelujah Junction yet, but soon.” She spins on her bare feet to look at me with the same warm smile that hasn’t left her face since entering the room. “And when he does, I really think I can convince him to give us some more freedom. You’ve been good.”
“Good?” I say, raising an eyebrow as I do. “What choice do I have in the matter?” I jiggle the chain around my ankle that has nearly rubbed the flesh of my ankle raw. “Not like I can be anything but ‘good’.”
She crawls up onto the crate she sits on daily, and her cat cuddles up next to her. It’s what she does every single day. Every single day of the five days I’ve been in this hell. It’s our routine. It’s our life. We sit and talk. She breaks the awkward chit chat by going to make meals. We then sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Fucking repeat!
She points to the untouched breakfast. “Aren’t you hungry? Are you not in the mood for eggs?” Worry marks her tiny face. “I can make something else if you want.”
I sigh deeply and run my fingers through my hair. It takes everything inside of me not to lose my absolute shit on this poor woman. I go from moments of pure rage, frustration, and fury to pity, sympathy, and even genuine concern. I feel for this girl. As I’m starting to hear more and more about her life here, I can clearly see just how much of a victim she is. She doesn’t see it for herself, however, and though I try to get her to see the reality of her situation time and time again, she refuses. Her wall is so high around her feelings toward Richard I realize I may have no chance of ever breaking down the evil foundation that’s been built by a madman and his delusions.
“I need a change of clothes,” I say. I struggle to keep my voice calm and even gentle because I’m discovering just how easy Ember spooks. “I appreciate being able to clean myself in the bathroom, and the towel you gave me, but I can’t keep wearing the same clothing.”
I have never been so filthy in my life, which was really saying something considering some of the adventure photoshoots I had been on in my time. I can’t smell myself yet, but it’s just a matter of time until that happens. Ember had given me soap, a toothbrush and even a comb. But sleeping on the floor in a dirty cellar, not to mention being dragged in here had me covered in grime that’s getting worse by the day.
Nibbling the bottom of her lip and circling her blonde hair with her finger, she says, “You’re taller and bigger than Papa Rich. Plus, most of his attire is his ranger uniform.”
“Am I expected to live here and be your husband in the same clothes forever?”
It’s an asshole move to bring up our fucked up impending matrimony with Ember. It instantly makes her jump to action and get me whatever I want. She aims to please, and I know it. Now if only I can figure out how to manipulate her enough to get me out of this place. I want her to jump up and find me a key to my shackles, but I know I have to take baby steps with her if I have any chance at all.
She hops off the crate and rushes to me. “But I have a washer and a dryer upstairs. I can wash your clothes and bring them right back down to you.”
I can see how excited she is at the thought of serving me in this way.
Not wasting a moment, I strip off my shirt without the least bit of embarrassment or shame. I don’t care if she sees me nude. I’ve never been ashamed of my body and, considering I had already lost all sense of dignity being chained to a wall like a mangy mutt, I have nothing left to lose.
When Ember sees what I’m doing, her face reddens, and she quickly turns her back to me. “I’m sorry... I…”
“Why are you sorry?” I drop my pants and underwear to my ankles and just stare at her.
I can see she doesn’t want to turn around and see me, and the asshole I am, decides it’s time to mess with her head some.
“I’m going to be your husband,” I say. “You’re going to have to see me naked. A lot.”
Her body tenses, and she peeks over her shoulder at me. I see her eyes drop down to my dick and then a small gasp escapes her lips.
“I take it you’ve never seen a penis,” I say, already knowing damn well she hasn’t. Unless her kidnapping father is more sadistic than I already knew he was.
She shakes her head and turns completely away from me again but reaches her hand out so I can give her the clothing. When I move to completely remove them, I realize there is no way to fully take my pants and underwear off with the chain around my ankle.
“Slight problem,” I say, shaking the chain for emphasis. “Unless you have a key, I’m not able to hand these to you.”
“Oh no,” she says softly as she glances over her shoulder and looks at the chain. She shakes her head. “I don’t have the key, and Papa Rich won’t…” Her voice fades away as she studies the chain, glances at my pants, and then back at the chain.
“I guess you won’t be doing my laundry after all.”
She bites her lip and turns to face me, still staring at the chain as if trying to come up with a solution. Suddenly, her eyes light up. “Hold on, I have an idea.” She quickly runs out of the room.
I feel ridiculous standing naked with my pants pooled around my ankles, so I pull them up and actually hate the idea that I may never truly be clean again.
As I get ready to sit in my chair of dignity—filthy—I’m stopped when Ember comes running back into the room with a pair of scissors in her hand.
“I’ll cut them along the outside seam and then sew buttons on them so we can take them off you easily from now on. I know how to sew, and I have a jar of buttons upstairs.” She pauses and then shrugs. “The buttons won’t all match, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer, but instead kneels at my feet and begins cutting along the fabric. I don’t stop her, although I’m not sure how having buttons up my entire leg will work, but it’s not like I have a lot of options either. At least she’s trying, and I have to give her an A for effort.
When she reaches my underwear, she asks, “Do you want me to sew buttons on these too?” I can see her face is bright red. “I mean… do you want to keep them? I don’t mind… I just, I just want you to be comfortable.”
“Go ahead and cut them off. I can go commando from here on out.”
As sick as it is, I struggle to not smile. The poor girl is extremely uncomfortable having to be so close to my privates, and the fact that my clothes are just a few snips away from falling off of me, with her face right in front of my groin area… well, the humor is not lost on me. I grant her some mercy and help her lower my pants off me completely. She tries her best not to look at me, but I also know there is no way she didn’t get an eyeful.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she says as she scurries out of the room with my soiled clothes in hand and doesn’t even bother to close the door behind her.
Being trapped must be getting to me, because I actually have to fight back the urge to laugh. The absurdity of my situation. The fact that I’m sitting on wool blankets in a near dungeon being held captive by a lunatic and about to marry a waif of a woman who would kiss my feet if I ask, is something no one would ever believe. This is a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Wrapping a blanket around myself, I settle against the wall, pull the breakfast tray to me, and begin eating. I notice the slices of oranges on the plate are perfectly peeled as if Ember had painstakingly pulled every little piece of pith on the fruit off. She wants so desperately to be the good wife she has read about in books or what she has been told by Richard. I can see how hard she tries to please in her domestic duties. And yet… I wonder if I ever have a chance of convincing her to help us run away. I wish it’s easy trying to reason with her.
But there’s no reason in lunacy.
I take a sip of cold coffee and wish for a shot of whiskey to add to it.
Five days.
Five days with no booze. No pills. No sex. No life.
The shakes are subsiding with each new morning, but it makes me realize just how dependent my body is on my lifestyle. The cravings make this entire situation even worse. Detoxing in a twisted medieval horror story is about as bad as it can get.
Eventually Ember reenters the room with my clothes folded nicely in her arms almost as fast as she had left. “I was able to get most the dirt out, I think. There’s a hole in the leg that I can mend later if you want, but since I took so long with the buttons, I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.”
I stand up on full display. Since she’s walking toward me, there is no way she can turn her back on me now. I want her to see me. I want her to face me. I want her to see the reality of what is right in front of her.
Bold, bare, and stripped.
Once she sees me, her eyes quickly dart to the floor. Funny how my nudity causes more discomfort in her than seeing me chained to a wall against my will does.
“Thank you,” I say, deciding to give her some mercy and get dressed quickly. That and my balls were damn near freezing off with the chill in the room. Although it’s not easy pushing the buttons through each hole that run from my ankle to waist.
I notice as I’m dressing that her cat never leaves her side, it follows her around wherever she goes. Instead of walking to her crate, as I expect her to do, Ember moves toward my pile of blankets and begins to fold and position them into a nice little bed again. She then grabs the tray from breakfast and brings it over to the doorway. She then walks to the bathroom, and I can hear the water running as I guess she is cleaning that area the best she can.
Quite the dutiful woman she is.
“What’s going on in here?” Richard booms from the doorway. “Sinners!” he seethes.
I spin around and see wide eyes full of hate directed my way. I’m only wearing my pants as I haven’t had time to put my shirt on yet due to how long the buttons took on the pants, and I smirk. I know what he’s thinking.
Think it, motherfucker.
Imagine me fucking Ember as she cries out my name.
He takes a step into the room as I know he wants to charge toward me and strangle me with his bare hands, but he halts… not a stupid man. He remains in the doorway out of reach.
“Papa Rich…” Ember says, coming out of the bathroom. Her eyes glance at my bare chest, her mouth drops as her lower lip begins to tremble. She knows what he’s thinking too.
“Get over here now!” Richard demands. He points to the spot right beside him and as Ember quickly moves to obey, I stop her.
Placing my hand in front of her and pushing her behind me, I say, “No. She’ll be staying right where she is.”
“Ember, now!” he shouts as spittle spews from his chapped lips and his face reddens.
“I said no,” I repeat as I grab Ember by the arm in case she decides to try to make a run for it toward her father. Although, I also assume she isn’t thrilled about the idea of being within her father’s reach at the moment.
Regardless that I’m enjoying knowing the thought of me having sex or even being inappropriate with Ember is making the man go insane with anger, I also am not going to allow him to whip her again.
“I had to wash his clothes,” she tries to explain.
“Ember, you have two seconds to get over here, or I will blister your ass raw.”
“Come and get her,” I taunt. “Or are you afraid to face me like a man?”
I can feel Ember try to pull away, but I know the man will beat her as I’m forced to watch. No way will I ever allow that to happen again if I can help it. Plus, it feels damn good to have some control over a situation again.
Richard wants Ember.
He can’t have her.
An evil grin spreads across Richard’s face as he takes a step backwards. “All right… if you two want to be together so much, then fine. Ember, you can stay in here with our guest. It’s high time you both get closer anyway since the wedding day is coming.”
He quickly turns around, storms out of the room, slams the door shut. The sound of keys on the other side, and then a click tells me all I need to know.
He locked Ember in the cellar with me.
Ember breaks from my hold and runs toward the door and tries to open it to no avail. She bangs on it and screams, “Papa! I’m sorry. I was only doing his wash. I swear! Nothing happened.”
His voice comes from the other side of the door. “Pray, Ember. Pray for forgiveness for your sinful ways. God will forgive. And when he does, I’ll return. Until then, pray.”
“Papa, I didn’t sin. I swear! I swear!”
No answer.
“Papa! Please!” She jiggles the handle again, but there’s no opening it.
She turns and looks at me wild-eyed. “It’s locked. He’s gone.”
I smirk and open my arms wide. I shouldn’t make light of the situation. I shouldn’t allow my sick sense of humor to take over. But I can’t help myself. “Welcome to my prison, my dear.”
12
Ember
The chains of sin strangle my soul. I didn’t mean to be this way. I didn’t mean to cross the bridge where the Devil sat.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Christopher.
“For what? Doing my laundry?”
“For sinning and bringing you down the hole with me.”
Christopher finally puts his shirt on and then sits down on the chair looking at me still standing by the door. “You didn’t sin.”
“I did.”
He tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “Because your father told you so? Is that why you think you sinned?”
I make my way to the crate feeling deep shame. “Papa Rich knows. He could see it. Feel it.”
“See and feel what?”
“I looked at your… I saw your…” I try to confess but can’t say the vile word.
He smirks. “My what?”
He’s going to make me say it.
“My what?” he asks again.
“Your manhood,” I blurt. “I saw it. I sinned.”
Christopher chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you said ‘manhood’.” He laughs again but then quickly steadies his emotions. “And yes, Ember, you’re going to see my manhood if we’re going to be married. It’s not a sin. It’s part of life. It’s normal. Sex is normal and will be part of our life.” He pauses. “Unless you don’t want to get married?”
I quickly shake my head, worried that I offended him with my words. “No, that’s not it. I want to marry you. I mean… I have to marry you.”
“You don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to. I can help you. I mean it when I say I’ll protect you. And if you choose to, we can run away together, and you don’t have to marry me or face my manhood ever again.”
Not wanting to discuss this further and feeling as if my face is several shades of red, I turn my attention to finding my cat.
“Pine Cone,” I sing out, looking behind the crates. “It’s okay. You can come out.”
“Your cat hates your father.”
I nod. “She’s afraid of him. Always has been.”
“What about you?” Christopher asks. “Are you afraid of him?”
I don’t want to answer the question, but I have a feeling Christopher will insist that I do.
“Sometimes,” I mumble, not seeing Pine Cone but knowing she is most likely in the furthest corner of the room behind the larger crates where I can’t reach her.
“Do you think that’s normal? For a daughter to fear her father?”
I shrug, really not wanting to discuss this further. “I’m like my cat. I scare easily.”
“He locked you in here with a stranger. He was going to whip you again if I didn’t stop it, and he did all this for what? You did nothing wrong. Do you feel this was fair or the actions of a good man?”
