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Rising up out of bed with caution, I place my bare feet on the cold wood floor as I contemplate my next move. What could this mean? Is he really slipping already?
Or is this a test?
The idea that he could be testing me feels so insulting that I want to bash his brains in all over again. Doesn’t he understand that I have a family at home to worry about? I didn’t come into this world as a robot for him to test theories on. I’m a whole entire human being, and he’s treating me like a specimen.
Well, I guess not, but he should at least respect that I’m a real person with thoughts and autonomy outside of his obsession with keeping a human for a pet.
If he is really, truly trying to test me, then he’s going to be so disappointed when I escape again. I hope he hates himself for it, too, kicking himself for the rest of his life for trying to test my loyalty. He’s got such a complex that he thinks he’s worth having loyalty to in the first place. No wonder the last girl left.
Fortunately for me, the floor is so well-made that it doesn’t creak at all as I creep towards the door in my t-shirt and panties. My heart is still racing in my chest, and I stop to listen to my surroundings every few moments to make sure that I can hear him coming. If only the human response to stress wasn’t a physical function that incapacitated us. It seems like a really shitty strategy.
After listening a few times and determining that he’s nowhere nearby, I slip up to the door and test it to make sure it’s not rigged with some kind of trap. I feel insane, like I’m losing my mind as I check for cameras in my shower drain. But this is the mindset that he’s led me to, so I’m going to use my paranoia to my benefit.
The lock is still functional, and the door isn’t laced with anything that I can determine, so I slowly walk out the door into my first taste of relative freedom. Just being outside this room in the daylight feels unnatural for me now, as if I’d been born three months early. I feel unsteady, which worries me. How will I be able to function when the time comes to run?
The sunlight from the skylights casts eerie shadows down the hall as I deliberate my next move. Do I give in to his stupid little test to gain his trust? That would be beneficial enough for me to consider it, but everything in me is telling me to find the nearest window on the ground floor to climb out of. I’d just have to deal with the wall when I got to it.
When I think about my boys, my precious little boys who I would kill people for, my heart practically rips in two. I can’t bear to be apart from them any longer, and I’d hate to see the consequences of leaving them without a mother for such a duration of time. They need me, and I already abandoned them by leaving them behind for a stupid job.
I have to allow my anger to push me forward. Marcello has taken away my freedom, my security, and my job. He’s changed my entire outlook on the world, and I’m certain that the damage he’s inflicted on me will take years to recover from. He fucked me once and never spoke to me again, even after he’d spent a whole day trying to seduce me. He’s treated me like I’m a game to play, a prize to be won, and now he’s tossed me into the corner to collect dust.
Now, I don’t have time to waste trying to placate him, and my boys still need me.
With resolution and a rush of adrenaline in my blood, I make my way down the stairs step by step. Each time I lower myself, my terror grows louder in my mind until I’m overwhelmed by the fear of what’s to come. I don’t have my passport with me, and I have no idea where I am or how to communicate with any of the locals. I’ll be completely on my own if I’m lucky enough to get out of here alive.
The front door is only thirty feet from the base of the stairs. There’s only thirty feet between me and my freedom.
I step down onto the tile flooring, reminded that I’m still barefoot. I’d better hope that the sidewalks of Italy aren’t littered with used needles and broken glass like they are in the United States. God, I’m going to look crazy to the person who finds me first, stumbling around without shoes and babbling in English.
Marcello’s office is on the other side of this half of the house, so he’s still close enough for me to be worried without the threat of him being right underneath me. It’s a delicate, perilous game, and I can’t tell who’s winning yet.
As long as I’m on his property, it’s still him.
I choose to slide along the wall in an effort to reduce my shadow in case he happens to pass by.
Just as I reach the doorknob, I hear him approaching, and my heart sinks.
“Are you fucking serious?” he says as he stands at the end of the hallway with his arms crossed. “We’re really going to do this shit again?”
I finally explode. I can’t take this anymore.
“You know what? Yeah, Marcello, I’m doing this again, and you’re going to have to kill me to keep me from walking out this fucking door. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re the most selfish, sadistic person I’ve ever met in my life!” I shout as I turn to face him straight on.
“How the hell would you even know? I’ve done nothing but treat you perfectly since you came here. You seem to have forgotten that I saved your fucking life!” he shouts back, his eyes growing fiery and angry.
I can’t contain my laughter. “Maybe I didn’t want you to save me! Maybe I should have just gotten killed if it means I don’t have to thank you for rescuing me every minute of my life!” How can he really believe that being his prisoner is better than being killed?
“You have no idea what those men are capable of. You’d beluckyfor them to kill you. But you never got the chance to find that out, and now you’re punishing me for it!” he responds, inching closer to me as his body language grows aggressive.
I cross my arms over my chest, standing up as straight as I can to show him that I won’t shrink to make him feel bigger. “Well, my gratitude has run out, and I’m going to go home to be with my family.”
“You know what? Fine. Fuck you, just leave and don’t ever come back!” he barks, approaching me even more in order to intimidate me as much as possible.
“What, did you really think I was going to stick around and be your little slave for the rest of my life? Buying me nice clothes isn’t enough for me to give up my freedom, you fucking idiot,” I hiss.
He scoffs at me, closer than ever to completely losing his shit. “Hey, I was just trying to do something nice for you. And what the fuck do you mean by ‘slave’? I didn’t make you do a damn thing here! All you had to do was sleep and stay out of trouble, and you still managed to fuck that up!”
I can’t hear another word of this bullshit. Getting the last word in isn’t worth sticking around, so I turn towards the door and unlock the deadbolt.
