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“She’s pretty, Malachi. New toy?” someone says, as I swallow. Toy? My head tilts, eyes looking at the person who spoke the words. He’s older. Greying hair. Attractive, though. Heavy set with a low slung smile sitting on his face. Texan Drawl.
“I’ve claimed her for now,” Malachi says. My head slowly turns, unsure what that means. Claimed? I am not claimed. I am singular. Alone in this wonderland.
“Fucked it?” someone asks.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I thought I’d leave that for you, Lucian.”
Colours flash in my line of sight, a rainbow of them dancing in the light. Pretty chandeliers. I gaze at them, watching the colours dance around the walls from them.
“She arrived with Gray,” another voice says.Gray.
“He’s made no claim on her.”
“And yet there’s a chain on her wrist.”
“Do you see him attached to it? Free fodder, gentlemen.”
Fodder.
I grab at the chain, clamp it in my hand and try to think past this noise around me. Too much noise. All of it harsh and direct, dirty and sordid. Nothing but a piece of meat. Sustenance before the night begins downstairs. Something inside me tenses as the conversation carries on in the same vein, but I don’t seem to be able to move. Nothing works. I want to shout, scream, but I can’t. It happened on the roof. Roof? Snow and cold. I remember it. Malachi was there. Small steps forward when Malachi asked me to, my body unable to deny the order. And now I’m here sitting at a dinner table with no food, listening to his orders again while other people stare.
I try putting pressure on my legs to push the chair back, try to move away.
“Sit still,” he says.
No.
I don’t like orders. Orders mean being told what to do. No one tells me what to do anymore. Especially not a chorus of men who talk about me as if I’m entertainment for their game. Game? I twist and glare at Malachi, clarity rushing in from somewhere. I’m not a game for him, nor am I game for any of them. I wasn’t a game for Rick either.
Memories filter through me, flashing like the colours dancing around me now. Good wife. Good little Hannah who put up with all the crap while he fucked other women. Sadness and rage rears up inside me like a haunting melody sweeping over my body and mind. Pricks. We all are. Gray said that. Gray.
He left me. He was inside me and then he left me alone. The maid. That’s what he said. Find the maid and she’d lead the way to him. More effort and I push and stagger, legs finally hauling me upright. Everything sways. The room, my body, even my skin seems to crawl and ripple. I’m leaving, though. I am. I’m going to find the maid and then find the fun.
My feet move, fingers reaching for the surfaces and walls to help me out of the door. No fun here. Here is glowers and smiles that mean underhanded reasoning. I shiver from the thought and keep stumbling, mind focused on wherever the maid and Gray are, but I’m suddenly grabbed and spun back, no care for my plan to leave. Furious eyes bore into mine. Malachi’s eyes. I remember them like this. He causes pain in this mood, enjoys the prospect, as he hits and shoves.
I stand tall and try to fight, nails lashing out at him daring to touch me like that. No more. They meet skin, tearing a line of blood through the rigid line of his jaw.
“No,” snaps out of me. He lets go immediately, suddenly brightening his face to smile about something. “No, Malachi. No orders.” He carries on smiling, rubbing the blood back and forth and smearing it over his face until eventually he laughs. “No games either,” I mumble. He laughs so loud. Loud enough that I step away from it and glare again. No one laughs at me anymore.
“As you wish, Mrs Tanner.”
I turn away from them all and straighten my shoulders, my mind set on finding the maid and my thoughts disgusted by the sound of that name again. “Hannah,” I snap, edging into the hall.
The maid will lead me to Gray. He said she would, but after a few minutes of trying to concentrate on walking and direction I hear footsteps behind me. I swing my head slowly and keep moving forward, staggering on my heels. The leather straps bite in with every footfall, constricting blood flow as if designed to do so. Uncomfortable. Gray was right. It is. I want naked and free again. I was free with him in the shower. I felt free and alive. Safe and indulgent in my decadence.
Why is Malachi following me?
He’s stalking. Moving slowly as if I’m prey in his sights. I laugh and turn from him again, picking up speed as I unclip the buckle near my breastbone to give me more freedom. The top section falls loosely, making me rip the rest of it over my head and throw it sideways.
Stalking? Hunting me?
I laugh again and move more swiftly, focus coming with the thoughts rushing through me. Laugh. Run, get away. But I’m not scared now. I’m just running freely, racing my way along corridors in search of a maid and Gray. Down, that’s where I want to go. Down, down, down the rabbit hole I’m running towards. With Gray, though. I need him there. Need him attached to this chain so I can be free and live again.
A huge door suddenly bars my path forwards, vast columns of wood reaching upwards. I slide to a halt and look left and right, searching for another way. There isn’t anything. Just a corridor with high walls and this door. I spin and glare backwards, waiting for him to reach me. He’s slowed now. Not running, if he ever was.
