He takes a step closer to me, his eyes now showing some emotion, and the emotion is hatred. Pure, unfiltered hatred.
“I may have lied with my words a few times, but never in my life would I act likethatmotherfucker. Even if wearing his skin were the only way to get you, I wouldn’t have done it. As much as I want you, I hate that bastard just as much. So no, I didn’t act like him to manipulate you.”
I laugh, mocking. “You think you can still fool me? I know Chris sent you to me so you could use me to reach my family.”
“Believe what you want.” He grabs my jaw. “If the thought that you were completely innocent and I was the bad guy who came with a plan to manipulate you helps you sleep at night, then go with it.”
I knock his hand away and plant both palms on his chest, pushing him back until he’s out of my space. “I don’t care about any of your nonsense. Just send me back.”
“No.”
Anger bubbles in my chest. “I’m asking you one last time, nicely. Send me back.”
“You can try asking not nicely. The answer won’t change. Now come with me, there’s work to be done here.”
I walk past him, out of the room. There is no other room in the house, just a living room and a kitchen. The same men who were working in the room are now sitting on the living room sofas.
It doesn’t take me more than a few seconds to spot the entry door. The man rises from the sofa as I reach the door. I slip on a pair of flip-flops from the shoe stand, then open the door and step outside.
What’s in front of me is a forest, a cold forest with tall trees. A shiver from the cold wracks my whole body. The only things I’m wearing are sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I don’t have to guess who put them on me. The last thing I remember is being naked in the shower, and now I’m here.
As far as I can see, there are only trees. It’s evening, and the sun has already set. All sorts of forest noises surround me. There are two thin dirt paths that don’t look like they’re used often.
I don’t know how big the forest is or what wildlife lives in it, and I don’t care. All I care about is going as far as possible from the cabin behind me and the man who owns it.
I start down one of the paths.
Soon after I begin walking, I realize I’m not alone. Footsteps sound behind me, making my anger rise with every second he spends following me.
Finally, when my head feels ready to burst, I turn.
“What the fuck do you want? Is it not clear to you that you have no chance with me? I fucking don’t want to see your bloody face. Leave me, for fuck’s sake!” My loud voice rings through the forest.
His face doesn’t change even a fraction at my outburst. It stays like stone. When he doesn’t say anything for another minute, I turn around and start walking again. Then a jacket falls over my shoulders, the blue down jacket he was wearing. I tear it off and throw it to the ground. Even though I’m turning blue from the cold, I don’t need his care.
I keep walking until the darkness makes it impossible to see anything beyond two feet and the cold numbs my feet. There’s no light anywhere close, no sign that I’m near the edge of the forest.
“That’s enough for today. Now let’s go back.” His infuriatingly calm voice comes from behind me, like we’re out on an evening walk.
“I’m not going back,” I say coldly, without turning my head, without stopping.
He doesn’t argue. He just moves closer and lifts me into his arms. I fight with all my might to get down, but his iron grip on my shoulders and thighs doesn’t let me.
“Put me down, you fucking asshole!” I shout, hitting him, clawing him, but he’s like a golem, something without nerves, without feeling. He doesn’t even flinch when I draw blood from his neck with my nails.
“Did you hear me? Put me down!” I rake my nails across his jaw. “You lying bastard—you fucking monster—” I scream it at the top of my lungs.
I keep hitting him. Cursing him. Clawing every patch of skin I can reach. Nothing makes him put me down. Nothing makes him stop walking.
Angry tears streak from the corners of my eyes. “Let me go—please—fucking let me go—” My shouting splinters into sobbed wails, but he doesn’t stop. Not until we reach the cabin again.
He opens the door with a press of his thumb to the lock box and enters. The lights in the hall and living room turn on automatically.
He sets me down on the floor and grabs my elbow. I struggle as he drags me toward the kitchen, stopping near the counter. His grip stays firm around my arm. I’m tired and dizzy, the fight draining out of me in slow, uneven breaths.
His face shows nothing, a blank slate. Like he isn’t even a breathing human. Blood trickles down his jaw and neck where I clawed him, thin red lines against tanned skin. It looks painful. Either he’s hiding it, or he doesn’t care about the pain at all.
He takes a box from the drawer and opens it. It’s a first aid kit. Only then do I notice my white bandage is now bloodied. My wound must have torn open from all the hitting. Unlike him, I do feel pain, I just haven’t noticed it because I’ve been in pain for so long. Ever since I started fighting him, it began. I didn’t think I’d tear my wound open.
