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Chapter Six
Carter spends the night wide awake, lying stock-still as he stares up at the crystal chandelier above the bed through the dim lighting. He wonders what it would feel like for the chandelier to fall on him. For it to shatter, cutting his skin. For it to crush the life from his lungs. He wonders if death would be worth the pain.
Carter doesn’t look away from the chandelier. He can’t. It feels like the room is closing in, the chandelier the one thing that’s staying a safe distance away. Everything else is slowly encroaching on him.
Especially sir.
He’s convinced that sir keeps getting closer, despite the fact that every time he forces himself to look over, he sees sir in the exact same position, all the way on the opposite side of the massive bed. It doesn’t matter, though. Unlike the crystal chandelier, he knows sir will eventually come for him. He’ll cut him. Crush him. Do whatever he pleases with him. Carter’s not an idiot. They’re both naked, and this manownshim. It’s only a matter of time before sir decides to rape him again.
The thought makes Carter sick. Truly sick. He slides off the bed and stumbles to the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible when he shuts the door and locks it. Even though sir told him to keep the door open before, he didn’t technically make it a rule. Carter is willing to risk it. If the door is closed, the bedroom can’t cave in on him.
Carter immediately flips on the lights before panic can envelop him once again. Then he hurries across the small room, barely making it to the toilet in time to empty his stomach. His body purges everything it has, and then some, until he’s reduced to nothing but dry heaves.
When it seems that his body has finally given up, Carter pushes to his feet on trembling legs and goes to the sink. He rinses his mouth with mouthwash before splashing some water on his face. The sight of himself in the mirror when he looks up at his reflection catches him by surprise. He looks… different. His face is hollow. The bags under his eyes are heavy and dark. His stomach is caved in.
His throat is wrapped with an industrial looking collar that has a loop on the front for a leash. Carter brings his finger up to touch the collar, pulling away quickly as if it burned him.
No longer able to look at his own twisted image, Carter turns his back to the mirror and wraps his arms around his torso as tightly as he can. That’s when he sees it.
A window.
In the corner, above the whirlpool tub that’s made of shiny black and gold marble, is a window. Large. 4 panes. A switch to the left of the frame to frost it over for privacy. Carter rushes over, climbing up the three stairs required to even enter the oversized tub before scrambling inside of it. He props himself up on the bench inside the basin and flips the switch. He gasps.
Outside.
Night-time. Dark. Star-filled. He presses his hand and forehead against the cool glass, wanting to be as close to it all as possible.
God, he never thought he’d see the night sky again. The stars. He remembers wasting away in the dark, thinking he’d die without ever getting the chance. He forgot how beautiful it is.
The full moon illuminates the yard, if the stretch of seemingly never-ending grass and garden and trees can be considered ayard.
It’s high. At least three stories, though possibly more. From the size of the yard, along with the winding driveway off to the side, and the edge of what he thinks might be a pool around the corner, Carter thinks he might be in some sort of mansion. He supposes that makes sense. The mandidspend 2 million dollars on him after all. Carter would scoff at the absurdity of it if he wasn’t so fucking terrified.
It’s too high to jump. Even if it wasn’t, there doesn’t seem to be any latches to open the window anyway. Hell, even if it was lower, and there were latches, he has no delusion that he would be able to make it anywhere before someone caught him. There’s nothing but trees as far as his eyes can see. Unless there’s unexpectedly a city on the opposite side of the mansion, he’d be fucked no matter what.
Heisfucked no matter what.
Carter climbs out of the tub in defeat. The moment his feet touch the bathroom floor, his emotions unlock. They bubble up and over his self-control until he’s choking on a sob. Carter drops to the floor and curls in on himself as tightly as he can, burying his face in his hands to muffle the wrecked sounds escaping him.
How is this his life? What the fuck happened?
How does Maison fit into all of this?
Is this all Maison’s fault?
Does Maison know he’s gone yet? If so, is Maison trying to get him back?
Does Maison even have the kind of resources it would take to attempt to get him back? Will it be too late by then?
Is sir going to kill Carter once he’s bored with him? How long will that take? A week? A month? Years?
Carter doesn’t know if he can survive years.
But Carter doesn’t want to die.
He’s too young to die.
There are so many things left to do. So much left for him to learn and see.
