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"You are home, Ivy." His eyes narrow, warning me not to object to his claim.
I grind my teeth together at his words. My mouth suddenly has a mind of its own. "This isnotmy home. This willneverbe my home."
Santiago's nostrils flare as he stares at me. The swinging doors open as Ms. Maria walks through with breakfast, but halts in place when Santiago raises his hand. She walks backwards, retreating into the kitchen. Silence ensues as Santiago stares at me. The air grows heavy and my heartbeat echoes through the large room.
I hope he can't hear it.
His chair moves back, and he folds out of it less gracefully than the time before. He walks to me and my body involuntary locks up from his nearness. Pulling my chair out, he grabs onto my hand and pulls me to stand. "Come with me." The poison in his tone makes goosebumps erupts across my body.
"Where are we going?" I question, the tremble in my voice unmistakable.
Santiago's hand goes to the front of my neck, halting our departure from the dining room. "You speak too much out of turn, Ivy. Learn your place. You are a pretty girl, but you are not irreplaceable. Maybe next time I will stitch those plump lips closed so I don't have to hear another word." His accent appears heavier from his anger. His words spit fury and if I had the ability to rear back, I would.
With one blink, he releases my neck and pulls me along. We don't take a right this time, which usually leads me towards the front door. We take a left, which takes us towards a grand staircase with white marble stairs and a dark wooden railing. I stare at my feet as they clack on the marble stairs, so I don't cry. I wonder, if I were to jump off the railing, would my life end? I contemplate whether I would go quick or suffer for days. I doubt Santiago would even try to stop me. I bet he would walk back to the dining room and ask Ms. Maria to re-heat his food.
That's what I would do if Santiago were to plunge to his death.
Once we make it to the top of the stairs, Santiago pulls me to the left wing, and I end up walking into a bedroom of sorts. My eyes fall upon every corner of the room. Looking for exits. Any way to escape. I don't like being in an unknown room. One I haven't been able to study. Even worse, Santiago has pulled me here a whim—even worse—on my birthday.
What the hell is going on?
"Strip." Santiago snaps his finger in my face as he walks around the room. He walks back to the door, flicks the lock and turns on the lights. I listen to his heavy footsteps as he walks to the lone bed in the center of the rooms. He lifts the lid on a chest near the foot of the bed, and I avert my eyes as he starts pulling things from the chest.
"W-what?" I stutter, his words finally making their way to my brain.
His gaze whips to mine. "I will not ask you again.Strip." His words lash out at me like a whip. My face stays still as stone as my chest shakes in silent sobs.
This room feels like hell. The walls are painted a dark, heavy gray making this room feel sad and dreary. The lighting is limited in this room, making it dim. It makes me cold. The art on the wall is filled with abstract painting of naked women. Couples in positions that make me internally cringe. Women touching themselves. Dread seeps into my blood as my body starts locking down. My mind grows dark as it shuts in on itself. As it prepares for what’s to come.
The four-poster bed sits in the center of the room with blood red sheets covering the mattress. In front of the bed against the wall sits two black chairs.Why do they face the bed?
A bar sits off in the corner, liquor and wine bottles lined perfectly along the side. I don't know why there is a bar in here, it feels so out of place. But then again, it all makes sense, in a way. If Santiago is a human trafficker, the kinds of things that might happen in this room are ones I refuse to let my mind wander to.
I hear the chest close, and my terror slams my back straight. I can see Santiago's irritation from across the room. He walks towards me, his footsteps impatient and irritated. Once he reaches me, the malicious anger radiating off him makes my hands fly behind my back, the tips of my fingers barely able find the zipper. In a panic, I almost rip the dress before my thumb and pointer clasp the metal piece. I sigh once I pull it down, both relief and terror running through me as I feel the dress loosen. For the first time all morning, I feel like I can breathe. I keep the dress pressed to my front for a moment, but when Santiago turns to glare at me, my fingers let go.
My dress splashes to the floor silently, leaving me naked in a pair of black heels.
His hands are filled with objects I choose not to look at, in fear of what I may find. I lift a foot to unstrap my heels when Santiago raises a hand. "Leave them." He drops the items to the floor, each item against the tiled floors a punch to my terrified heart.
Lowing my foot to the ground, I stand there naked in terror as Santiago takes a step closer to me.He stops only a few inches away from me, until the toe of his shiny leather Italian shoes brushes against the front of my heels. His proximity is too close. I can feel his dark eyes boring onto the crown of my head as I stare at the floor.
His hand reaches up, his pointer finger tracing the underside of my breast. “I knew you would be special. I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you. Standing up on that stage as scared as a little lamb.” His voice grows raspy, and it makes my stomach jump to my throat.
I hold my breath as he brushes my nipple.
“You talk about going home. This is your home. I don’t want to hear you speaking of it again, do you understand me?”
I swallow, my words and objections lodged beneath my fear. My objections want to break free and be heard, my lips opening with the need to speak them. But terror like fingers keep them in their grip, choking them and letting them die in my throat.
“Yes.” I choke instead.
“You are mine. I brought out more than I need, as you can see.” His hand waves over the pile of items on the ground, where I see a pile of black leather, feathers, and what looks to be like a baton. A sex toy might be in the heap, but I glance away and back to my feet before the sobs barreling at my chest break free. “But before we get too in depth with training, you need to learn to listen. You need to obey. You no longer have a voice here. You will speak when spoken to, otherwise those pretty little lips of yours better stay closed. Understood?”
“Yes.” I garble through a mouthful of tears. The ground blurs and I blink quickly to rid the flow of tears, but they flood to fast to stop. A tear escapes, and I watch as it falls to the ground, crashing into the ground in a silent splash.
“Good. Now, look straight ahead.” He orders.
I raise my eyes from the ground, sniffling through my nose and looking at the dark wall behind him.
