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Then I remember that I started to feel – off. I recalled feeling lightheaded, dizzy, sick to my stomach. The last thing I recalled seeing with any sort of clarity was Charles' face. More specifically, what I most clearly remember seeing was a cruel little smile that curled his lips upward as he watched me struggling.
After that, everything went black. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here – where ever here was – lying in darkness, tied to a bed.
I heard footsteps pounding down a hallway outside the room I was in. My pulse raced as they drew nearer, and I thought my heart might actually burst from my chest when I heard a hand on the doorknob. I stifled a cry as the door swung inward and I saw the large, broad shouldered figure silhouetted by the light in the hallway behind him.
It was unmistakably Charles.
He reached over and flipped on the light, the sudden illumination making me wince and squint my eyes until they adjusted. All the while, he stood in the doorway, unmoving, just staring at me. The look on his face was one of fear. It was like seeing me there, tied up on the bed, somehow made the realization of what he'd done real to him for the very first time.
“You're awake,” he finally said, his voice a little shaky.
“Please, Charles” I said. “Let me go. Untie me. Please?”
He looked like he wanted to – at least, part of him did. But, then his face hardened, and he narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaws. It was as if he literally had a little angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, both offering their advice to him – and quite clearly, the devil was making the more compelling case.
“I – I'm afraid I can't do that just yet,” he said. “I cannot take the risk of you going to the police.”
“I swear,” I replied, “I won't. If you let
me go, I'll never tell anybody. I promise. I'll never tell a soul.”
He looked like he wanted to believe me. But, then, the more pragmatic, realistic side seemed to take control again and his expression was one of pure skepticism and outrage. He knew he couldn't believe me. Couldn't trust me. It was like he'd read my mind and knew the instant I got out of there, that I'd go straight to the cops – because, of course I would have.
“I cannot take that chance,” he said.
I struggled against my bonds, my fear and anger welling up within me like a dark tide.
“Why are you doing this?” I shout. “Why won't you let go of me?”
“Is it not obvious, Avery?” he asked, cocking his head like the answer was readily apparent.
It wasn't.
“No,” I snapped. “It's pretty damn far from obvious.”
“It's because I've come to care for you, Avery,” he said, his voice calm and patient. “I've come to care for you quite a lot and want you to be with me. Not Spencer.”
I thrashed against the ropes holding me, crying out in frustration when I couldn't break free. All the while, Charles stood in the doorway, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“You hardly know me, Charles,” I said, my voice cold. “I don't want to be with you. I want to be with Spencer.”
“That's perhaps how you feel now,” he said. “But, I hope to change your mind.”
“Yeah, because drugging and kidnapping me is a fantastic way of winning me over,” I said.
“You left me no choice –”
“Oh, so this is all my fault,” I practically screamed. “I forced you to drug and kidnap me.”
He shrugged. “In a sense, I suppose that's true.”
I felt my eyes widen and my mouth fall open. “You can't be serious,” I said. “In what sort of fucked up, twisted world is any of this my fault?”
“You never gave me a chance, Avery,” he said. “Perhaps, if you'd given me a chance to win you over, this – unpleasantness – could have been avoided.”
The depth of the man's delusion and depravity was truly frightening to me. He actually believed what he was saying. He thought I owed him a chance to be with me. The tide of anger within me surged and seemed to swallow the fear. My body vibrated with my rage and I glared at him.
“That's not how this works, Charles,” I snapped. “That's not how any of this works.”
