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I wished I could say I had been surprised to see him, but I wasn’t. You didn’t just leave a man like Cruz. Once you were with Cruz Zeros, you belonged to Cruz Zeros. I used to think my ex-fiancé was bad, but compared to Zero he was practically Prince Charming.
“I’ll be back for you later,” Cruz sneered. He walked to the only door in the room, the only exit, and shut me in. There were no windows in my prison. There wasn’t even a toilet. Just this one dirty mattress. I hugged my knees to my chest, starin’ at the four gray walls that had become my home.
I missed Grace, my old roommate. Back in California, we’d been thrust together because of our similar circumstances. She was runnin’ from somethin’, that was clear to see, and I was also runnin’ from somethin’: Zero. Neither of us had much to our name, but together we’d become somethin’ great. She was the closest thing I’d had to family in a long time, so figured Cruz would come in and ruin that.
As I stared at the gray walls, her face materialized. Long, curly brown locks and a face so innocent you’d want to shield her from the world. I knew better, though. Behind that curtain of naiveté lurked sinister memories. Grace wasn’t innocent; she’d seen some horrors in her life. Just like me.
I wondered what she was up to. I wondered if she was thinkin’ ‘bout me. Cruz had made me call her and tell her I was fine and not to look for me. He’d also made me call the police and say the same thing. While the police had seemed convinced, Grace had been hysterical. I didn’t like the idea of being forgotten…but I hated the idea that Grace was out there suffering ‘cause of my mistakes.
I sighed, closing my eyes at the memory of Grace. If I thought hard enough, I might be able to smell the seaside and hear the seagulls. I wouldn’t fall asleep—I could never, not there—but perhaps I’d drift off into semi-unconsciousness.
* * *
I’d made a fatal mistake. I’d fallen asleep. I was almost comfortable on my dirty, bodily fluid-soaked mattress. For a moment, I’d disappeared into dreamland and my circumstance was made mute—which made what happened next so much more difficult to deal with.
“Wakey wakey, bitch.” Zero grabbed me by the hair on my scalp and dragged me off the mattress, throwin’ my body onto the middle of the concrete floor. “Time to make up for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”
My bones ached. My gut growled. Every ligament felt stretched. Zero hadn’t spared me any, having taken to torture the minute we’d arrived at this hellhole. I wasn’t sure where we were; he’d knocked me out and blindfolded me immediately. We could be in Bermuda for all I knew.
I was pretty sure we were in Hell.
The first day he’d raped me. The second day he’d beaten me. The third day I’d stopped counting what he did to me, instead focusing on surviving. As I curled into a ball in the middle of the concrete, I felt my defenses cracking. The walls I’d built on arrival were crumbling.
For a brief instant since he’d kidnapped me, I’d been content. It was dumber than takin’ a raft to a flash flood, but I had let myself fall asleep. I’d been warmed and I’d felt safe. Then he’d ripped me out like a baby from a womb and thrown me on the cold, wet concrete. He ripped down the pants I’d had on since he kidnapped me. They were dirty and smelly, but they were the only protection I had against him. So of course he took them.
I couldn’t take it much longer. I couldn’t be Zero’s doll to do whatever he wanted with. He saw me as a thing to torture and use; there was no compassion in Zero. He was nothing, completely void.
“Someone will come for me,” I yelled desperately. I wasn’t so much yellin’ it at Cruz as I was yellin’ it for myself. It was my plea. It was my prayer.
Cruz laughed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “No one’s coming for you, you stupid bitch. You told everyone you’re fine.” With those words, the sound like a death knell to my ears, Cruz entered me.
* * *
I heard the door open, but I refused to look at him. Cruz had won. He’d even taken my clothes with him earlier. I was broken. I hadn’t moved since the mornin’, still in the fetal position. In the beginning I’d fancied myself a warrior. I thought I could handle everything Cruz threw at me.
Rape? I would compartmentalize until I was free.
Torture? I would breathe through the pain.
Humiliation? It was all in the eye of the beholder.
Until that mornin’. Cruz struck the final blow. He reminded me that I would never be free. One week, one month, one year, forever. It was all the same. I had sealed my fate the day I had called Grace and told her I was fine. I was so stupid. I had feared death by Cruz’s hand, when in reality that would have been mercy.
The worst part was that I had no way to end it. There was nothing I could use to kill myself in my prison. I only had the mattress. As I heard the footfalls of my destruction near me, not even tears would fall. I was utterly and completely razed.
I felt hands lift me up and terror seized my gut. What was Cruz planning now? I tried to shut everything out, I tried to fall down a well into my own dark consciousness, but a delic
ious scent filled my nostrils. Whereas Cruz stank of day old fast food mixed with mildew, the person carrying me smelled like cardamom and spices. I inhaled, confused, before carefully shifting my attention to the person carrying me.
My breath whooshed out of my body. Who was this man? He was so unlike Cruz. Whereas Cruz appeared like death himself, his skin the color of bone that stuck to his withering muscles, this man was life. He had golden skin accentuated by tattoos crawling up to his neck and out of his shirt. His jaw was square and firm, his frown only making him look that more strong. He had brilliant blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean. For a minute, those eyes transported me back to California.
He carried me out of the concrete prison and into the fresh air. The clean smell of forest and sunshine whipped me in the face. I’d been smelling my own urine and Cruz’s odor for what felt like years. I started to cry. Feeling weak and vulnerable, I nestled into his neck. Had I died? Was this man the reaper there to bring me to Heaven?
I felt fragile and useless, crying into the neck of a stranger, but for the first time since Cruz had taken me, I felt safe. Maybe this man was just going to pick up where Cruz had left off. Maybe this man was worse than Cruz. For the moment, though, I allowed my mind to settle and my terror to subside. For the moment, I felt safe.
3
CHARLIE
