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There’s Dad, standing on the beach, blue ocean behind him. He’s frowning and has dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise looks fine. He’s holding up a paper. The giant zooms in on the picture and I see today’s date on the paper. The writing is some kind of South Asian script. My hand jumps to cover my mouth, a sob catching in my throat.
I try to grab for the phone, wanting to zoom out again and look at Dad, but he pulls it away and puts it back in his pocket.
Still, it was enough. Dad looks good. No bruises or black eyes. He looks healthy.
Safe.
There’s no time to process though, because the next thing I know, the giant has leaned down, picked me up like I weigh nothing, and swung me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Then he starts jogging with me up the stairs.
To his bedroom.
Five
“What? Wait, if we could just talk for a second—”
He doesn’t stop or even slow at my continued protests.
No, he just continues up the stairs, my body jolting with each step.
Holy crap, what if he drops me on my head? Without thinking about it, my hands drop to his lower back to steady myself. The iron hard muscles there do nothing to assuage my escalating terror.
Damn, this guy is built like a Mack Truck. He’s thick around the waist like a boxer and from what I can tell, it’s all pure muscle. He’s inhumanely big. Like a normal human except he comes in an extra-large size. His back is broader. Neck is thicker. Thighs are more massive. He takes the stairs two at a time like he’s not carrying a hundred-and-thirty-pound lead weight over his shoulder.
He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket, unlocks his door and then we’re inside.
I have an upside-down view since I’m still over his shoulder and at first I’m afraid to look around. What if there are, I don’t know… huge pentagrams painted on the walls or sacrificial altars set up?
But when I finally peek it looks… well… normal.
Except, you know, for the huge giant who’s holding me essentially captive. And the fact that there’s barely any light up here. Just a small lamp above a mantle that casts the whole room in shadow.
There’s a large desk pushed up against one wall. It has two large monitors on it with a laptop hooked up between them. Both screens are dark now.
Well, that answers that question. He’s not anti-technology, he just planned well in advance and doesn’t want me having access to the outside world. Awesome. That’s not super creepy at all.
And the other major feature of the room is a bed.
A huge king size bed. God, the thing looks bigger than king size. Do they make them bigger than king size?
“So what’s your name?” I ask, my face still inches away from his jean-clad ass. “I’m Melanie. I mean, obviously you know that. But you know, we never really did the whole introductions thing.”
The next thing I know, I’m flying ass over ankles as he tosses me on the bed.
He looms over me like the monster in some movie.
Oh God, oh God, just keep talking. Humanize yourself to your captor, isn’t that what they say? Besides, I always chatter when I’m nervous.
“You have a really beautiful library.” I try for a smile that I’m sure comes off more as a pained grimace. “I thought at first it was just lots of old books, like, for decoration. But then I found the contemporary section. You really like mysteries, huh? Lee Child books? He’s great, one of my favorites, I—”
He reaches back and pulls his t-shirt off over his head.
Holy bulging muscles, Batman.
I gulp and without really thinking about it scramble backward on the bed.
He’s just so exponentially large.
He reaches down and grabs my ankle, yanking me back to him in one swift tug.
“Xavier,” he says. “My name.”
And then he reaches into the drawer beside his bedside and pulls out a knife.
Giant psycho’s going to kill me.
I’m about to die.
I screech and try to roll away from him but his huge hand clamps easily around my ankle yet again.
“Hold still,” he growls.
And then I hear the sound of fabric being cut. I look down wide-eyed to see he’s slicing my expensive Gucci pants off me, starting at the ankle. Once he gets to the knee of each leg, he starts to rip, his muscles flexing.
He has to use the knife again to cut through the top where the belt loops are. I lay panting in terror.
“You could have just asked me to take them off,” I whisper as he pulls the ruined fabric from around my body. I want to drop my hands to cover myself, but God, it won’t do any good, will it?
This is happening and there’s no stopping it.
